I once wrote a letter to Dear Abby. I was probably 12 or 13 and I was so upset because I wanted to be an actress when I grew up and my parents were realists who knew that it was a long shot. So I wrote my letter to Dear Abby, pouring out my teen angst about my non-understanding parents and my deep desires and mailed it off to the address in the newspaper, with my self-addressed stamped envelope.
About a month later, I got my response. I smuggled the letter up into my room, waiting to have Abby tell me that I was a super-star and she was going to personally contact my parents and tell them that they should be more supportive of my dreams. It was going to be awesome.