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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:
