It was in an Ann Landers column some time ago – a letter from a grief stricken mother. Her son had died at the age of 33, weighing 560 pounds. His parents had warned him about the dangers of obesity. But he always replied, “It’s my life. I’ll do what I want with it.”

As I read that, I remembered reading about a wife and mother who became bored with her life. One day she left her husband and family to go to Las Vegas with a man who had left his wife. Her only words were, “It’s my life. It’s the only one I’ve got, and I’m going to live it as I please.”

There was the man who had despaired of life’s meaning. He committed suicide, leaving behind a note which said, “I know that many people will condemn me for what I am doing. But, after all, it’s my life isn’t it?”

A teenager went out every w…