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Dear Ann Landers,
The new morality-and freedom. From classes-what a drag! From Mom and Dad-always arguing. From homework-senseless hours. From discipline-useless. From church-a bore. From conformity-a hangup. I'm my own woman now. Made so by one decision. One hour of love and pleasure. Free now to look at my cheerleading sweater hanging in the closet. My books and basketball schedule resting on the shelf. My material for a prom formal-never made-as it sits amid the remnants of the fabric left over from my maternity tops. My medals from band and choir, forsaken in the clutter of a jewelry box. My friends passing by my window. Laughing over the gossip column in the school paper And giggling over who will be the next to experience The new morality-and freedom. For cleaning-what a drag! For him-always arguing. For ironing-senseless hours. For dishes-useless. For cooking-a bore. For sex-a hangup. Oh God, if you are there, Please let someone take this crying baby off my hands And let my feet dance once more. I am so old. And I was never young.

Dear Friend,
I'm grateful for this touching poem. (Are you listen-ing, students? The silence is deafening.) Back in 1959,1 advised a young girl not to marry. She was pregnant, and her parents were urging her to wed a very reluctant hoy. Here's what my readers said:



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Hi! It's Margo here. I'd love to know what you think of the letters -- and the answers!

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Our Reader to Reader Question of the Week:


Dear Readers,
, whatever they needed I provided. What really hurt my son and I the most was the obituary - we were not mentioned at all. Our friends (mine and hers) were appalled. I was embarrassed and upset for not just me, but for my son-who loved her also. I never been so upset. Her x-husband put his wife and kids and their grandchildren in the obituary, who my girlfriend barely knew. They live an hour away from us. I know its silly to be mad over a little section of the newspaper, but it still hurts. Will time let this devastating loss of her and this article ever go away? I am so angry at this whole situation, its not like we can go and rewrite an obituary notice.

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"Nobody ever drowned in his own sweat."
-Ann Landers