DEAR ABBY: My wife of 46 years keeps telling me about her deprived childhood. Everybody else had a color TV; the one she grew up with was a black-and-white. Granny didn't have a dryer; she had to use a clothesline. They didn't have a car, and when they finally got one, it was a used car. Finally, they had a new car, but it was stolen two weeks later.
All the other girls had ballet lessons; all the other girls were in Brownies. When Granny finally signed her up, it was too late. My wife had to get a used Brownie uniform that didn't fit, and they put her in a troop with Girl Scouts much older. She always wanted a swing-set, but never got one.
Is there counseling and group therapy for this self-pity condition? I'm laughing to myself and my tears are getting into my beer. -- HAD IT ROUGH, TOO
DEAR HAD IT: I would like to think your wife has it a lot better now, but to be married to someone as insensitive as you appear to be can hardly be an upper. Go pour yourself another pilsner before your tears dilute this one and bring you down further, Laughing Boy.