Sherry Chapmanby Sherry Chapman
First published in April/May, 2006, Volume 3, Issue 2 of The Hatchet: Journal of Lizzie Borden Studies.
Dear Abby,
I am about to graduate from high school and everyone is giving me their advice. My mother says to get married and have children. My father says to go to work in one of the mills and start earning a living. One aunt says to stay at home and take in piecework as a seamstress. Another tells me to join her at some corner in Flint Village on Friday nights. I have no idea what this means. She assures me the work is both easy and profitable. (Actually this sounds like the best of the lot.) But whether they are good ideas or not, they are going to be visiting me in the Taunton asylum if they do not stop. All of my many relatives has a life plan made out for me, and all this advice is driving me insane. What to do, Abby? What to do? —A Nervous Nellie in Fall River
Dear Nellie,
You should listen politely, as you must remember that each only means it for your own welfare. When they are finished mapping out your ‘life plan’, you can inform them gently that you appreciate their efforts but you either a) have a plan of your own; b) will consider it or c) have an appointment and suddenly rush off (this is to be used for the talker who will not stop talking even after they are dead). At least, that’s my advice.
Dear Abby.
I am hesitant to write, yet I am afraid not to. After speaking with a Fall River friend, Willie Medley, he said you should be told. Your step-daughter, Lizzie, said that you are deceitful – that you are one thing to her face and another to her back. She said it with a look in her eyes that made me afraid. She showed such a degree of emotion when she spoke of it. I send this warning to your newspaper address, as I do not want this coming to your house and possibly having Lizzie see it. We have been friends since our school years, and I still remember you, Abby, as being a kind and considerate lady. Please be careful. —Mrs. Augusta Poole Tripp, Westport
Dear Augusta,
I remember you, Augusta, and the nice visits you had with Lizzie as young girls here. It was a good idea to not send your letter to our house, as it is hard telling what Lizzie would do had she found it. I will keep this information to myself and be on a sharp lookout for any hostile behavior on her part. Thank you very much for writing!
Dear Abby,
I own a butcher store and do a brisk business. Yesterday a lady came in with her little girl. While I was waiting on her mother, the child started playing with the sausages I had hanging up. It was not long before a crash was heard and ten perfectly good 8-foot long sausages fell to the floor, now useless and gone to waste. Because there were customers in the store that saw the incident, I had to throw them away. Had the store been empty, I could have re-sold them (all this according to Business Ordinance of Fall River Number 84189211.am). Do you realize that it takes three pigs to make ten extra long sausages? What action do you suggest I take against the little girl and her mother? —Butcher Durfee, Anawan Street
Dear Butcher,
I don’t know what you should do regarding the mother and child. But I am amazed that pigs can be taught to do that.
Dear Abby,
My son’s birthday is coming up. He will turn seven years old. I asked him what he would like for a gift, and he said that he wanted a whale-boned corset. I was trying to steer him into maybe a toy, a puppy – even money. But he would not budge from that answer. Now why would a little boy want a whale-boned corset for his birthday? —Puzzled Parent, June Street
Dear Parent,
Who can ever figure out a child’s gift wants? They just get their mind set on something and will not let go. Perhaps he wants to cut the whale bones out and do some scrimshaw. Our Lizzie’s birthday comes in June, and she is no less puzzling in her request. She asks for a new gossamer, in the same color she currently has.
Dear Abby,
If you walk in your bahn, does the person not leave footprints in the dust? – Osaiha Owltonkna, Marion
Dear Mr. Knowlton,
I know you are the author of this letter. Not only am I familiar with your handwriting, but you wrote me on your stationary that has your name on the top. You have my sympathies for stooping so low to get me to publish and answer one of your strange letters again. In regard to your question, of which I have no idea why you ask, I have not been out to the bahn in a very long time – since we had a horse and carriage. We sold the horse for a handsome profit and had the horse for many dinners – um, that is, we fed him many meals before we sold him. Yes, ‘sold him’. We live so near all of Andrew’s businesses, about the only place we ever go to is our farm in Swansea. We kept a wagon, and we now only have to rent a horse from Gardner’s when we want to go out of Fall River. I never looked for footprints in the bahn then, and I don’t intend to traipse out there looking for any now. You really should see an alienist.
Confidential to Lab of Fall River: After consulting the librarian in our fair city, he found an obscure book that listed some Fall River records. According to “An Obscure Book of Some Fall River Records” by Alphonso Guiness, the fastest any person ever ate pears was five in four minutes. The slowest was three in 20 minutes. I hope this helps in your Lab research.
THIS EDITION OF ‘DEAR ABBY’
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