For everything you need to know about wedding planning, order "How to Have a Lovely Wedding." Send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby, Wedding Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)
FOOD BANK CHARITY SCORES BIG IN SOUPER BOWL FUND-RAISER
DEAR ABBY: Bless you! Your column highlighting the "Souper Bowl" helped generate more than $1.2 million for hungry and hurting people around the country -- and calls are still coming in.
More than 4,000 churches, synagogues, schools and businesses welcomed $1 donations, sent the funds directly to a soup kitchen, food bank or other helping agency, and then phoned 1-800-358-SOUP on Super Bowl Sunday to report their totals.
In 1990, 22 congregations participated in the first Souper Bowl. The explosive growth since then illustrates both the power of working in partnership with others and the exciting results of "loving God and loving our neighbors" in even the simplest ways. We hope more folks will call 1-800-358-SOUP to join in next year's effort.
Abby, again, thank you for your partnership. -- THE REV. BRAD SMITH, SOUPER BOWL COORDINATOR, COLUMBIA, S.C.
DEAR MR. SMITH: It was a pleasure to inform my readers of such a worthwhile effort. The numbers are impressive. Your effort beautifully illustrates the power of working together.
DEAR ABBY: After reading the letter titled "The 10 Worst Things to Say to an Infertile Couple," I have a message for the woman who couldn't conceive a child. She said: "Every time the results come up negative, my sister-in-law says she goes through the same grieving as someone who had lost a child."
Never, never make that remark to anyone who has lost a child. It is an insult to those grieving parents who know what it is to lose a child.
The woman who couldn't get pregnant has no idea what it is like to lose a child in death, and she is doing a very poor job of imagining. Her comparison belittles our grief and our loss, and infuriates those of us who have experienced that tragedy. -- BEREAVED IN FAIRFIELD, OHIO
DEAR BEREAVED: Anyone who reads this will verify that losing a child in death is the most heartbreaking experience a parent must endure.
DEAR ABBY: The letters about tattoos brought back some painful memories.
The first tattoos I ever saw were on a young Dutchman who had come to America after World War II. He had three tattoos on his arm -- one for each Nazi concentration camp he had managed to survive.
Years later, I went to Israel and attended a concert at the Mann auditorium. In front of me sat two very elegant, refined-looking ladies. Both were wearing white kid gloves. I can't tell you the horror I felt when I noticed that both of them had numbers peeking out over the tops of their gloves. -- JANET DIDINSKY IN MARYLAND
ST. PATRICK'S LEGEND MAY CONTAIN A BIT OF BLARNEY
DEAR READERS: A Happy St. Patrick's Day to all you proud Irishmen and Irish women -- and Irish children, too.
I confess I didn't know very much about Saint Patrick, after whom this special day is named, so I did a little research and came up with some interesting and rather astonishing facts.
St. Patrick was not Irish -- he was a Roman, and his name was Patricious Magonus. (His father was Calpurnius, a tax collector, and his mother was English.) The family lived in Britain in the fifth century.
Their district was raided by pirates when Patricious was 16, and he was part of a group taken to Ireland and sold into slavery. He spent the next six years working as a swineherd, praying for freedom, and finally escaped.
During his captivity, he had developed a love of Ireland and its people. He went on to become a priest, then a bishop, and returned to do missionary work there. He is credited with converting the Irish from paganism to Christianity. According to legend, Patrick drove the snakes of Ireland into the sea, and used a green shamrock to explain the Trinity (Father, Son and Holy Ghost) to the Irish.
Centuries later, the first St. Patrick's Day celebration in the United States was held in 1737 in Boston, which had the largest Irish population in the United States.
Today, more than 100 cities across the nation celebrate St. Patrick's Day with parades, songfests, food and drink. The Chicago River in Chicago is dyed green by Midwestern leprechauns.
Irish-Americans celebrate St. Patrick's Day by wearing shamrocks, or something else green. I have a large green shamrock-shaped pin on which is printed "KISS ME -- I'M IRISH," because, as the saying goes, "On St. Patrick's Day, EVERYONE is a little bit Irish."
DEAR ABBY: I'm writing about the lady who's on AFDC, who has noticed that "many jobs require people to speak Spanish," and who cannot find a job.
My question is: What is she doing with her 40 hours a week now, to make her more employable in the workplace tomorrow? Is she learning Spanish? Is she honing her grammar-spelling-typing-math skills? While she's playing bingo, is she getting to know people there who might have children in business who are currently hiring? Is she revisiting the places where she applied for work so they can get to know her and know that she's still available? Or, in between job interviews, is she sitting around watching TV?
Fresno has a wonderful library system where, for free, she can check out books and tapes on just about every subject. I've seen language tapes in thrift stores for 50 cents and textbooks for a quarter. California has an excellent community college system, with special programs for poverty-level people.
My question for any welfare recipient is, "What steps are you taking to get off welfare?" -- ONE WHO LEARNED TO BE A GO-GETTER, SUSANVILLE, CALIF.
DEAR GO-GETTER: A good question. Thank you for a letter that could be a lifeline to those struggling to get out of the unemployment pool.
I have been informed that most community colleges have programs similar to those in California.
To order "How to Write Letters for All Occasions," send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby, Letter Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)
Wife of Handy Husband Is Ready to Throw His Wrench
DEAR ABBY: Please help me. I'm at my wit's end.
My husband (I'll call him Herman) is a retired builder who likes to putter. We just moved to Florida and live in a lovely neighborhood. My problem is everyone, no matter where we go, seems to think that Herman is his maintenance man.
Abby, my husband gets dizzy spells! Our neighbor, who's the same age, often asks Herman to fix his roof, hang his Christmas lights or cut his palm trees. He doesn't give us a moment's peace.
We came down here to retire, not so Herman could be everyone's free maintenance man.
If we go on vacation to visit his family in Canada, the same things happen. It's no vacation. My poor husband comes home exhausted and aching and has to be in bed by 6:30.
I've had it. I'm ready to explode. If I say anything, Herman gets mad.
If people can afford to live in Florida, they can afford to pay someone to do the work. We don't need the money. We need the peace of mind. Herman says we need friends. I'm happy with the ones we have. Your thoughts, please? -- FORMER SNOWBIRD
DEAR FORMER SNOWBIRD: Your husband sounds like a sweetheart, but he shouldn't confuse free handyman services with friendship. No one who values his friendship would ask him to risk injuring himself.
Since Herman won't listen to you, a word of caution from his doctor might help. Tell his physician that despite his dizzy spells, your husband continues to do high-altitude handiwork.
If that doesn't succeed, the next time the neighbor asks your husband to do something he shouldn't, cheerfully inquire about how much insurance coverage he's carrying -- in case someone who's been having dizzy spells should fall off his roof or out of his tree.
DEAR ABBY: In a recent letter written by "Miserable in Missouri," the husband kept telling his wife, "My mom didn't do it that way."
I am 88 years old and have kept this poem for more years than I can count. It carries the same message:
"He didn't like my pudding
"And he didn't like my cake.
"My biscuits were too hard.
"Not like his mother used to bake.
"I didn't perk the coffee
"And I didn't make the stew,
"I didn't mend his socks
"Like his mother used to do.
"As I pondered for an answer
"I was looking for a clue.
"So I turned and boxed his ears,
"Like his mother used to do."
Abby, I enjoy your letters and remarks, and often take them to the senior center and share them with others. -- MARION V. COLLINS, MILTON, DEL.
For an excellent guide to becoming a better conversationalist and a more attractive person, order "How to Be Popular." Send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby Popularity Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)