What teens need to know about sex, drugs, AIDS, and getting along with peers and parents is in "What Every Teen Should Know." To order, send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby, Teen Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)
RENTER IS CURIOUS TO KNOW WHY SILENCE IS HIS GREETING
DEAR ABBY: I recently rented a room in a private home, where I have full privileges. I like the people who own the home, but one thing bothers me. Whenever I come home from work or enter a room where they are sitting, they never say hello. They rarely speak to me at all. It's almost as though I don't exist.
These are nice people who go to church on Sunday, but they never acknowledge my presence. I'm not asking to be treated like a member of the family, just acknowledged. Are they being rude, or am I too sensitive? -- IGNORED IN NORTHERN CALIFORNIA
DEAR IGNORED: Not all families are as verbal as you may be. Since it bothers you, speak up. Say hello when you enter and make a casual comment that does not require a lengthy response; then go about your business. The living arrangement you have made requires some give-and-take on the part of all concerned.
DEAR ABBY: This is in response to the letter from "Appalled Cousin," concerning the grandfather who was disinvited from his granddaughter "Lenore's" wedding.
My newest daughter-in-law's wedding took place last June in La Jolla, Calif. Janene had planned for her "Pop-Pop" and grandmother to attend, but her grandmother passed away a couple of months before the event.
The day of the wedding, which was outdoors in a small public park by the beach, Pop-Pop was late in arriving. He's confined to a wheelchair and was running late. Janene simply said, "The wedding doesn't start until Pop-Pop gets here." We all waited, took photos of the wedding party, played with the grandchildren and visited with relatives as the bride waited in the limousine for Pop-Pop to arrive. Because this was a public place, tourists on the sidewalk became curious and stopped to watch the festivities. About an hour later, Pop-Pop arrived. The park was not wheelchair accessible, so he was carried by some strong young men (wheelchair and all) to his place of honor in the front.
Now Janene was ready. As if on cue, the sun broke through the gloomy overcast, the sky turned a vivid blue, the waves turned a brilliant white and the wedding began. When the vows were exchanged, there was cheering and applause even from the sidewalk gallery. Pop-Pop was as radiant as Janene. He is in all of the wedding pictures. Pop-Pop died recently, but he was thrilled to be in the wedding and happy that his granddaughter delayed it just for him.
I'm afraid Lenore just doesn't understand what a perfect wedding is all about.
I'm overjoyed to have such a terrific daughter-in-law come into my family. This girl is a real keeper. Pregnant with her first child, Janene graduated from college summa cum laude this June. The baby (like Pop-Pop) arrived late. Some things are well worth waiting for. -- PAUL ASGEIRSON, PROUD FATHER-IN-LAW, PORTLAND, ORE.
DEAR PAUL: Thank you for an upper of a letter. Your daughter-in-law, Janene, is indeed a prize. Lenore could have learned from her example. May all of you enjoy many more happy, healthy and prosperous years together.
Hunter's Tears of Remorse Sting Long After Shooting
DEAR ABBY: In 1991, you printed a letter, followed by a poem, about a man who hunted wild geese. It described a dying male goose and his wounded mate who stayed beside him and covered his body with her broken wing until she, too, died. Please rerun the poem. Thank you in advance. -- CLAIRE LEWIS, DALLAS
DEAR CLAIRE: Here it is. But first, a warning to my readers. Get out your hankies. This piece is guaranteed to bring tears to your eyes.
REMORSE
by Truman P. Reitmeyer, Philadelphia
A hunter shot at a flock of geese
That flew within his reach.
Two were stopped in their rapid flight
And fell on the sandy beach.
The male bird lay at the water's edge
And just before he died,
He faintly called to his wounded mate
And she dragged herself to his side.
She bent her head and crooned to him
In a way distressed and wild,
Caressing her one and only mate
As a mother would a child.
Then covering him with her broken wing
And gasping with failing breath,
She laid her head against his breast
A feeble honk -- then death.
This story is true though crudely told.
I was the man in this case.
I stood knee-deep in snow and cold
And the hot tears burned my face.
I buried the birds in the sand where they lay
Wrapped in my hunting coat,
And I threw my gun and belt in the bay
When I crossed in the open boat.
Hunters will call me a right poor sport
And scoff at the thing I did.
But that day something broke in my heart,
And shoot again? God forbid!
DEAR ABBY: I have been dating a woman for two years. Two weeks ago, I gave her an antique silver pin with pearls that had belonged to my mother.
Last week, my girlfriend told me she has also been seeing someone else for several months, and she's in love with him.
Abby, should I ask her to return the pin, and should I expect that she will do so? -- CHRIS IN NEW YORK
DEAR CHRIS: It's worth a try. Offer to replace the pin with one of equal value. However, a gift once given belongs to the recipient. If she refuses, write off the loss as tuition in the school of experience.
To receive a collection of Abby's most memorable -- and most frequently requested -- poems and essays, send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby's "Keepers," P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)
This Moses Parts the Waters, and Adds to Them as Well
DEAR ABBY: Though a frequent reader (after my wife), I've only now found reason to write to you, in response to the lady who feared her husband's habit of urinating on their lawn was inappropriate.
So it may be, but the fact remains that all men pee outdoors.
My best to you and continued good luck with your column. -- CHARLTON HESTON, BEVERLY HILLS, CALIF.
DEAR CHARLTON: Thank you for the input. Your letter is but a drop in the bucket compared to the deluge of mail that has flooded my office since I printed that letter. Read on:
DEAR ABBY: After reading the letter about the woman ("The Whiz-zard's Wife") whose husband urinates in the yard, I had to write. It's what I went through with my ex-husband for 13 years! I pleaded with him to stop, but his answer was that no one could see him because it was dark.
My present husband (now of eight years) did the same thing. He'd be closer to the bathroom in our house and still go out back to urinate in our yard after dark two or three times a week. When I gave him my opinion about it, he'd ignore it.
When we moved to our new home, we had a wooden fence built. I decided to teach him a lesson. When he continued to urinate in the back yard, I decided to do the same. He was shocked! He told me I had better not do it again. I told him that as long as he continued his behavior, I would do the same.
Abby, he has not urinated in our back yard since. Sometimes when they won't listen, you have to SHOW 'em. -- HAPPY WIFE IN FORNEY, TEXAS
DEAR HAPPY WIFE: Congratulations for having curbed your husband's spraying. I was intrigued to discover that some men consider it a form of conservation! Read on:
DEAR ABBY: Marking our territory is only one reason for this age-old tradition.
Boys have long enjoyed distance, accuracy and creative urinary competitions: knocking leaves off the trees in the fall, drawing pictures in the winter snow, protecting young fir trees from hungry deer in the spring, and dousing campfires in the summer months are just a few highlights.
Some may deride this as small-minded male nonsense, but on a global scale, this ritual has significant benefits to our environment. The flush water we save is substantial. At 2.5 gallons per flush, a man urinating outside just once a day will conserve almost 1,000 gallons of water a year. If one-fourth of the men in the United States saved one flush per day, we'd save more than 4.5 billion cubic feet of water per year.
If you consider all the rainfall that's channeled into storm sewers from our streets and parking lots, we're returning valuable moisture to the soil by urinating on our lawns. At just one pint per day, American men could generate enough filtered ground water to cool the hottest passions among Washington, D.C.'s, elite. It would give the term "leak" new meaning. -- NATIVE OREGON STREAMER, TILLAMOOK, ORE.
Good advice for everyone -- teens to seniors -- is in "The Anger in All of Us and How to Deal With It." To order, send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby, Anger Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)