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When I was a kid growing up on the mean streets of Long Island I remember that my Mom often bought what used to be called “Women’s Service Magazines” at the local supermarket.

There was Redbook, Family Circle, Better Homes and Gardens, Good Housekeeping and so on. The mags were chock full of ways to make your life and the lives of your family better often in just a few simple steps.

There were recipes, laundry hints, ideas for dealing with pets and so on and so on.

There were also room set photos of impossibly sunny and airy kitchens, enormous living rooms, sun rooms (who even knew what sun room was?) and gorgeous flower beds.

These places only existed in a far off land where it never rained or snowed, no kid ever got a runny nose and the family car was replaced every two years.

This land was called Connecticut.

Seriously, I remember one of the magazines had a self help recurring monthly feature for women and it was called “CAN THIS MARRIAGE BE SAVED?” I forget where the question mark goes, inside or outside the quote marks.

There would be a case study of a marriage ostensibly on the rocks and a team of experts would analyze the situation regarding the relationship and render a verdict at the end of the article right before the Jell-o and meatloaf recipes on page 78.

I have no way of knowing of these articles were actually written by women or men I guess or if they were plain fiction like much of what comes out of the mouth of the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

And I also don’t know if anyone took the advice to heart and left the cad or went to counseling or whipped up a lemon pie with graham cracker crust in 5 easy no bake steps.

Which brings us, you and me dear reader to the point of this piece.

Dear Abby still lives on in syndication and in my local newspaper.

One of today’s letters was from an unhappy wife who had a husband known as a pillar of the community to the outside world but was a cad (see above) at home.

The final sentence from the women went something like this:

” I sleep in my own bedroom with the dog.”

Can this marriage be saved?

I’m going out on a limb and saying – Nah.

Take the dog and the Jell-o with you.