The View from a Drawbridge

I used to love to read Dear Abby and Ann Landers in the newspaper. Even as a small child, I thought that had to be the perfect gig. They got to write, and they could do it in their pajamas. I pictured them sitting there in flannel and bunny slippers, surrounded by stacks of letters and an Underwood typewriter. That’s the life. I think I’d be quite good at it, too. If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know I’m never lacking in gratuitous opinions.

Unfortunately, it seems to be the story of my life that my timing is entirely off. Newspapers are going the way of the dodo bird, so getting that type of syndication is a thing of the past. And in this internet age, there are no lack of experts to turn to for advice, and it’s usually free. It would take one charismatic so and so to be able to make a living that way in this day and age. Abby’s daughter is carrying on her column, but she’s got decades of PR in place. People aren’t going to write a plaintive letter to a total stranger when they can tweet and post and text to the entire world and get their answers, albeit not as full of pithy and delightfully well-turned phrases, almost instantly.

If I could write a letter to Dear Abby today (may she rest in peace), I’d sign myself, “Longing for Simpler Times”.