Dear Ann Landers,
That color photo by Elliott Erwitt on the cover of The New York Times Magazine section created quite a sensation. I was wearing a strapless bathing suit and used three bottles of bub-ble bath. The first reaction was from Clifton Wharton Jr., then presi-dent of Michigan State University in East Lansing, and his lovely wife, Delores. They thought the photo was smashing. My readers, family and friends were delighted, not only with the photo but the splendid interview by the late Judy Wax. The only neg-ative comment came from Father Ted Hesburgh, president of the Uni-versity of Notre Dame. My friend, the Reverend, considered it "out of character and inappropriate, but not indecent." Once in a great while, something truly momentous happens in my life and I feel I must share it with you, my readers. You have been my loyal friends for forty years. Here are a few of the special columns where my personal and public life came together:

Dear Readers,
There will be no letters and answers in the column today. My heart is heavy, and I am not up to giving advice. Last night, I lost my lovely mother-in-law. Gustie Lederer of Detroit passed away quietly in her sleep. She was 81. God gave her 11 years more than the Biblical three score and 10, which, according to the Scriptures, is the rich, full life. And rich and full it was. Gustie attended the weddings of nine grandchildren, and she lived to hold in her arms 10 great-grandchildren. This remarkable little woman, only 4-foot-10, was widowed at the age of 37 when her husband was killed in an auto accident near Jack-son, Mich. She was left with seven young children. My husband, Jules, was her eldest son. Jules knew what had to be done, and he did it. Im-mediately after his 16th birthday, he left high school to go to work and help support the family. Gustie was no chicken soup mama. She was loving and gentle, but she was also determined that her children be self-reliant and indepen-dent. There was neither the time nor money for the pampering and multiple choices that so many children today find frustrating. Every-one did his and her share. Gustie once told me that she never set up any house rules and she had very few disciplinary problems. Her chil-dren knew what was expected of them, and they did it. Not one of the seven went wrong, although, had they done so, the psychiatrists and psychologists could have come up with many plausi-ble "explanations." The situation was classic-teenagers without a father, severe economic hardship, etc. "We were what you might call disadvantaged," Jules once told me, "but we weren't actually poor. We just didn't have any money." Gustie was my mother-in-law for 34 years, and as God is my judge, we never exchanged one unpleasant word. Her five daughters, each one blessed with a delightful sense of humor, often chided me about being Gustie's "favorite." It was only natural, they allowed, since I had the good fortune to live in Chicago and they all live in Detroit. Gustie called me "Eppeleh with the Keppeleh" which in Yiddish means, "Lit-tle Eppie with the good head." But there was more to our relationship than appeared on the surface. Apart from the obvious affection and many good laughs we enjoyed, there was a quiet understanding-my unspoken gratitude for the wonderful son she raised for me-and her deep appreciation for my being a good wife to him. After her second attack of congestive heart failure, we knew the end was in sight. The time had come for Ann Landers to take some of her own advice. I telephoned the doctor in charge and asked that no ex-traordinary measures be used-no needles, no tubes, no machines that might deny Gustie the right to die with dignity. I asked that she be kept comfortable and left in God's hands. She was tired and weary, her work was done, and she deserved to go in peace. The doctor assured me that he was in complete accord, and he kept his word. Fifteen years ago, I ran a contest in search of the world's best mother-in-law. The winner was a woman in Kansas City. Her nomina-tion was sent in by her daughter's husband. The prize was a gold medal on which was engraved "To the World's Best Mother-in-law." When I sent the Kansas City woman her medal, I sent a duplicate medal to Gustie Lederer in Detroit. Today, as I said my final farewell to that dear little person, I was glad I had done it, because she was, unques-tionably, the real winner. This column appeared in 1969: Dear Readers: This may be just another day to you, but it is a very special day in my life. Thirty years ago, on a sweltering Sunday after-noon in Sioux City, Iowa, Jules Lederer slipped a plain gold band on my finger, and I became his wife. Honesty forbids me describing myself as a student at Morningside College, so I'll simply say I was enrolled there. Jules had had one year at Northwestern-High School, that is. He was a product of Detroit, handsome, energetic, imaginative, a born optimist and eager to take on the world. He had a good job and a promising future. He was also broke. I was an effervescent, fun-loving girl, hopelessly square, driven by a crusading spirit to save the world-sort of a Jewish Joan of Arc. I had accepted a ring and was engaged to marry a law student in California. But Jules, never one to be discouraged by small obstacles, asked me to marry him anyway. I said yes, and the wedding took place three months later. We were blessed the following year with a baby girl, Margo. From then on, I saw more of the moving van than I saw of Jules. When an opportunity for advancement arose, he took it. And it seemed always to be in another city. We moved from Sioux City to St. Louis, from St. Louis to New Orleans, from New Orleans to Milwaukee. Then came World War II, and Jules served in the infantry. In 1945, we moved from Little Rock to Los Angeles, from Los Angeles to Eau Claire, Wis., and from Eau Claire to Chicago. Time, that subtle thief of youth, is often cursed by those who long to stop the clock, or turn it back, but we want none of that. Each year has been better than the last because we have grown together. A good mar-riage, it is said, is made in heaven. This might be true, but the mainte-nance work must be done right down here. A successful marriage is not a gift, it is an achievement. No real marriage can exist without differ-ences in opinion and the ensuing battles. But battles can be healthy. They bring to marriage the vital principle of equal partnership. If there is a secret to making marriage work it is "Never go to bed mad." Our 30 years together have been blessed with good health, good for-tune, good friends, good times and success. Jules says he could not have made it without me. I am not sure he is right. But I could not have made it without him, and of this I am certain. He taught me how to be alone without feeling sorry for myself. He taught me never to back away from a challenge-that it is better to try and fail and then to try again. He taught me how to use my time productively. His work habits are impeccable. I learned mine from him. Being Mrs. Jules Lederer has been superb training for Ann Landers. Thirty years with this unselfish, supportive, responsive man has en-abled me to live life as few people get the opportunity to live. Being Ann Landers' husband could pose a terrible problem, but Jules has met the challenge with dignity and incredible good humor. My husband is my best friend, and I am his. I consider it a privilege to be the wife of this beautiful guy, who took on the world with a ninth-grade education and a hole in his sock. Who knew that six years later I would be sharing this news with you: Dear Readers: In my 20 years as Ann Landers this is the most dif-ficult column I have ever tried to put together. I do so after many hours of soul-searching. Should it be written at all? Would it be appropriate? Would it be fair? I have decided yes-because you, my readers, are also my friends. I owe it to you to say something. There should be some word directly from me. The sad, incredible fact is that after 36 years of marriage Jules and I are being divorced. As I write these words, it is as if I am referring to a letter from a reader. It seems unreal that I am writing about my own marriage. Many of you may remember the column that appeared in 1969. It was in honor of our 30th wedding anniversary. You may also recall the column I wrote when my beloved mother-in-law, Gustie Lederer, passed away. On both occasions I gave you some intimate glimpses of our life together. Thousands of readers were kind enough to write and say they considered those columns my best. Every word that appeared in those columns was true when I wrote them, and very little that was said then could not be said today-in complete honesty. Jules is an extraordinary man. His nickname for me was "The Queen." He was loving, supportive and generous. He is still all those things and I will always cherish our wonderful years together. That we are going our separate ways is one of life's strangest ironies. How did it happen that something so good for so long didn't last forever? The lady with all the answers does not know the answer to this one. Perhaps there is a lesson there for all of us. At least, it is there for me. "Never say, 'It couldn't happen to us!' " Please, don't write or call and ask for details. The response would be, "Sorry, this is a personal matter . . ." Time will not alter my posi-tion. I shall continue to say, "No comment." There will be no com-promising ... no exceptions. Just wish us both well. Not only is this the most difficult column I ever have written, but also it is the shortest. I apologize to my editors for not giving you your money's worth today. I ask that you not fill this space with other letters. Please leave it blank-as a memorial to one of the world's best mar-riages that didn't make it to the finish line. -Ann Landers One of the most heartwarming letters I have ever received was this one. I hope you don 't mind my including it: