February 3, 2013: Abigail Van Buren
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| Our cat, Abby (make no mistake, the queen of the house) as she makes herself comfortable on my coat |
I often call her Abigail Van Buren; as if it's her given name. But it's not. Ben named her Abby many years ago. I felt like she needed an extended name to get her attention, similar to my kids. Ben quickly turns into Benjamin James when my tone escalates a notch. Abby becomes Abigail Van Buren.
"Mom, who is Abigail Van Buren?" is the question I have often received from the boys. My answer of "Dear Abby" only gets the response of blank stares. Not a clue from my boys on the celebrity of this columnist. How could they not know Dear Abby?
The real Abigail Van Buren passed away last month at the ripe age of 94. Abby was born in Sioux City, Iowa (my neck of the woods), so I have grown up well aware of her national column and her notoriety. I have always admired a good writer and that she was. In high school, I tried to duplicate her column by penning a high school column called "Dear Herkie". It was a good run until teenage female cattiness came into play with write-ins, so it was shut down.
It was fun copycatting Abby for a while. Too bad there is no such thing as full freedom of speech in a Catholic high school. So I will keep penning my little daily blog and picture my favorite columnist sitting at her own typewriter of the 50's. Although technology has changed in media distribution, I would guess her to be sipping on a cup of coffee by day or glass of wine by night while penning her column. We certainly share that similarity as well as the commonality of love for expression in the written word. Some things never change with time.
Regrettably, I never did write to Abby for advice. If I did, it would certainly be about how to handle a very irreverent and demanding cat...
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| The real Abigail Van Buren |
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