Life-changing advice

Grace must find expression in life; otherwise it is not grace.” — Karl Barth

On vacation in northern Michigan two years ago, I visited a secondhand bookstore and stumbled on a copy of Home Edition, a collection of “Experience” columns by Nancy Brown (a pseudonym for Anne Louise Brown). One of the first advice columnists in the United States, Brown launched her column in The Detroit News in 1919 and kept at it until 1942.

nancybrown Unlike most advice columnists of the era, Brown wrote “Experience” from the seasoned perspective of middle age, counseling her readers on everything from financial worries to marital woes. Her responses were always compassionate — and considerably longer than the bite-sized paragraphs spooned out in newspaper columns today.

Having been a columnist several times in my own writing life, I’ve always taken a special interest in the work of other  columnists, past and present.

Until recently, though, my yellowed copy of Brown’s Home Edition simply occupied space on my bookshelf, a quaint reminder of how column writing has changed over the decades.

Then, one morning last week, I was somehow drawn to the shelf where I’d placed Brown’s book. At that very moment, I was thinking about a recent talk radio program on our country’s financial crisis. The show’s host had focused on the emotional (and spiritual) aspects of losing a job, asking her unemployed callers to share how they’ve been forced to redefine the meaning of success. Their answers were humbling — and inspiring.

So, grabbing Home Edition from the shelf, I felt my heart race when the book fell open to a letter from a desperate middle-aged man who identified himself as “Crowding Fifty.”

Writing in 1938, Crowding Fifty told Nancy Brown that he was once employed by “a large Detroit outfit” that had been forced to liquidate during the Great Depression. Before the bottom fell out, he said, he had enjoyed a life of relative prosperity that included Saturday night dances and a golf club membership. (He added that he and his family had lived within their means — albeit comfortably.)

When “the large Detroit outfit” went under, Crowding Fifty scraped together his remaining resources and tried to start his own small business. But despite his hard work and determination, that business failed, too. He’d nearly hit rock bottom.  Describing his own financial crisis, Crowding Fifty wrote: “The present so-called recession has raised havoc with my plans….By the time my insurance premiums are paid, my car expense of $25 monthly and other incidental items are cared for, there is just about enough for food and a few clothes.”

Worst of all, Crowding Fifty’s wife began shaming him in front of their kids — and soon withdrew her emotional support. His whole family, as he put it, “belittled” him.

Crowding Fifty went on to say: “It is beginning to look to me that perhaps I am a washout and a detriment to my family and, looking at it from a bystander’s viewpoint, that to avoid all future scenes and arguments and to promote content to my family, it will be the proper procedure to quietly arrange to cease living — to have my wife collect that $20,000 insurance before it is lost, too.”

While the letter was written more than 70 years ago — and its style seems formal or wooden now — the pain it expressed is still raw on the page. I fought a wave of tears while reading it. It was, if not an official suicide note, a plea to the columnist to convince him that his life still mattered; that there was some way out of the private hell that had swallowed him.

In 13 paragraphs, Brown gave Crowding Fifty a heartfelt answer, which contained some practical solutions as well as words of encouragement and comfort.

“Take a firm hold of yourself,” Brown wrote. “Square your shoulders. And tell yourself that you — are — going — to — make — good — again — and you will. I know it.”  Concluding her response, Brown asked Crowding Fifty if he would please send another letter — “ten days from now” — telling her that he had decided to start over instead of taking “the desperate step that would bring nothing but unhappiness to those who love you best.”

For several days now, I’ve been wondering if he ever wrote back.

– Cindy La Ferle

– The photo of Nancy Brown working in her office is from The Detroit News archives –

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9 Responses to “Life-changing advice”

  1. Joni Golden Says:

    Cindy, isn’t it amazing to look back and see how little really changes in our world? I saw a sign the other day while we were on our way home from the State Fair. The background was a piece of notebook paper, and the sign read: Recession 101 Interesting thing about recessions: They end. People our age and older know this, because we’ve lived through a few, but still so many panic and live in fear.

    This is America. It ALWAYS gets better. I hope Crowding Fifty realized that.

  2. Joanna Jenkins Says:

    So much has changes and so little has changed. That a timely read for you… and the rest of us!

    I love the “square your shoulders” part, my grandfather used to say that. Now I know where it came from…. his generation.

    Thanks for sharing Cindy. Maybe there was a reason you found that particular column. Maybe you’ll get a letter in ten days :-)

    xo

  3. Cindy H Says:

    Doesn’t it show that there’s nothing new under the sun? When I read your post, I couldn’t help thinking about the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life.” I, too, was wondering if the man wrote back. I hope he did. But how important it is that we support each other — at least emotionally, if we cannot help economically. I’m sure what hurt the most for him was losing the emotional support of his family. I think that economic recessions come and go, but sometimes they take a tremendous toll if people don’t have enough money for medicine, mortgage, food or health care. I think it’s especially difficult in America, where our society tends to equate our human value with our economic wealth. We need to be ESPECIALLY kind to each other in recessions.

  4. Jan Says:

    I so enjoyed reading this, Cindy, and feeling the heartbeat beneath your words, those of this dear man, and the columnist. So much care for one another! Yes, may we all be especially kind right now and in the transitional years ahead. Kindness does matter…

  5. Sharon Says:

    Who knows how many people were helped by those wise words. Our words matter, too.

  6. cindy harrison Says:

    This post makes up for not having a morning newspaper anymore! Thank you Cindy! I have a feeling that guy was okay. I have a feeling those 13 (!) paragraphs got through to him.

  7. starrlife Says:

    It’s good to remember that there are a lot of people out there struggling right now. I do not have alot but what I have I am grateful for and seems pretty steady right now- fingers crossed. Thanks Cindy.

  8. Elaine Says:

    Whether it’s 13 paragraphs or 13 words, the advice columnist’s words showed she cared … and that’s what is most comforting to all of who struggle.

  9. Brandon Says:

    What a great read, and a great reminder of the long history of the advice column — from Nancy Brown (who I had never heard of before) to Ann Landers to — gasp, Dan Savage (a contemporary sex advice columnist and podcaster). The best of these folks offer encouragement, not just for the person writing in, but for the dozens of others with similar problems. One hopes this great tradition will live on with the demise of the newspaper (I think it will — see also, Dear Prudence @ Slate).

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