DEAR ABBY: About 12 years ago, I gave a beautiful handmade quilt to my nephew and his wife as their wedding gift. I made it myself, and everyone who saw it said it was a work of art.
I did not deliver it myself. Another relative carried it to my nephew's home. I got a thank-you for the gift, but it was not said that the gift was a handmade quilt.
To make a long story short, a few months ago I was at this nephew's home and I saw the quilt hanging on a quilt stand in their bedroom. I asked who made the stand and my nephew's wife said, "My brother made the stand, and my grandmother made the quilt."
I asked, "Where is the one I gave you?" She said, "This is the only one we have."
Now, the grandmother has lived with that lie on her conscience all these years -- letting people believe that she made it when she knows perfectly well that I made it.
My advice to anyone who has a nice gift to give: Deliver it yourself! And, Abby, don't you think somebody owes me an apology? -- STILL HURT IN OHIO
DEAR STILL HURT: Good advice! But it wouldn't hurt to have enclosed a gift card with the quilt with a brief message: "Made with love from Aunt ( ) to ( )."
Since this is irritating you, why don't you set the record straight and tell your nephew and his wife that you made the quilt that was delivered to them by another relative, who took the credit for having made it?
DEAR ABBY: The copy of "Please God, I'm Only 17" appeared in today's Chicago Tribune, and its appearance was very timely. Just yesterday, I confiscated my 17-year-old son's driver's license after overhearing a conversation with a friend in which he boasted of doing 60 in a 45-mile zone on a small residential country road. (I didn't know yet how long I would keep it or what else I might have him do in order to make an impression.)
I decided upon the following course of action after reading your column. I clipped it and gave it to him with the following:
"Dear John: When you copy this little piece, 'Please God, I'm Only 17,' 25 times in your neatest writing and on good paper, and prominently display all 25 copies in your bedroom (nope, make an extra two copies, one for each car), you may have your license back. John, this is called tough love. Remember it. You may have to use it some day with one of your own children. I love you. Mom"
Thanks, Abby. -- TONI WEAVER, McHENRY, ILL.
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