To order "How to Write Letters for All Occasions," send a business-size, 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, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)
WIFE SAYS HUSBAND IS WRONG TO CLAIM HE'S ALWAYS RIGHT
DEAR ABBY: Like most of your readers, I never thought I'd be writing to you, but I'm at my wit's end.
I am a 38-year-old married woman. My husband doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't fool around, is physically fit, great in bed and not afraid to shower. He works at a full-time job, as well as a part-time job, and he's an equal partner in the area of child care. So, what's my problem?
This man has never admitted he was wrong about ANYTHING in the 13 years we've been married! He has never apologized for any thoughtless thing he's done, has never acknowledged that anything he's ever said has caused me pain or embarrassment, and refuses to admit that this isn't normal.
When I let him know this really bothers me, he'll joke and say, "Someday, if I'm ever wrong, I'll apologize." I'll admit that my response is usually a smart-aleck insult, but I think that after all these years of being married to Mr. Perfect, I'm entitled.
I love this guy, I really do. But I don't think I can bear to spend the rest of my life with a man who thinks that my feelings are unimportant. I'm not usually one to hold a grudge, but since he won't apologize about anything, I stay angry at him much longer than I should about inconsequential things. Short of divorce, what do I do? -– FRUSTRATED
DEAR FRUSTRATED: Your husband is a 9 on a scale of 10 –- and that's a pretty terrific score. When he says something hurtful or embarrassing, perhaps you should be slower to make a "smart-aleck" comment, and instead let him see an honest reaction. It would make it more difficult for him to joke his way out of an apology.
P.S. Believe it or not, the inability to admit one is wrong is a sign of insecurity.
DEAR ABBY: The poem you printed, "Cocaine," really hit home because I have a daughter who got hooked on it, and she has destroyed the lives of everyone around her.
Enclosed is a letter from her 11-year-old daughter. I wish you would print it; maybe my daughter or some other parent will see it and realize how their drug use is affecting the families they leave behind. -– CAROLYN IN ALABAMA
DEAR CAROLYN: Your grandchild's poignant letter is well worth space in this column. Read on:
"Hello, my name is Candi. I'm going to tell you what drugs did to my mother. She left me, my dad and my brother who is only 2 years old. He cries at night for her. Sometimes I cry, too. My dad is really hurt. Me and my brother will grow up without a mother.
"Well, you heard what drugs will do to people. So, please -– don't do drugs."
DEAR ABBY: Since Sen. Gramm's letter appeared in your column, congressional offices across America have been bombarded with requests for flags flown over the Capitol. This is great! It's wonderful to see so many patriotic citizens wishing to display Old Glory.
Unfortunately, the prices Sen. Gramm quoted were out of date. Those who wish to obtain a flag should contact the local office of their congressional representative or senators for a list of the correct prices so delivery will not be delayed.
Thanks, Abby. Once again, you've provided a great service for your readers. –- A CAPITOL HILL READER
DEAR CAPITOL HILL READER: Thank you for setting the record straight. Readers, your telephone directory lists the telephone numbers for the local offices of your representatives and senators in the section titled "U.S. Government."
WARNING TO TEEN DRIVERS STILL PACKS POWERFUL PUNCH
DEAR ABBY: I am writing to request a piece you printed some time ago. It was called "Please God, I'm Only 17." My nephew, 17, was just killed in a car accident. Would you please run it again? Thank you, Abby. -– KATHY KNUTTER, INDEPENDENCE, MO.
DEAR KATHY: That piece is one of the most powerful I have ever run in my column, and it's one of my most frequently requested. Young people confirm that it has made them think twice about their driving habits and encouraged them to be careful. You are right; it should run again. Read on:
PLEASE GOD, I'M ONLY 17
The day I died was an ordinary school day. How I wish I had taken the bus. But I was too cool for the bus. I remember how I wheedled the car out of Mom. "Special favor," I pleaded. "All the kids drive."
When the 2:50 bell rang, I threw all my books in the locker. I was free until 8:40 tomorrow morning! I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss. Free!
It doesn't matter how the accident happened. I was goofing off -- going too fast. Taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying my freedom and having fun. The last thing I remember was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slow. I heard the deafening crash and felt a terrible jolt. Glass and steel flew everywhere. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream.
Suddenly I awakened; it was very quiet. A police officer was standing over me. Then I saw a doctor. My body was mangled. I was saturated with blood. Pieces of jagged glass were sticking out all over. Strange that I couldn't feel anything.
Hey, don't pull that sheet over my head! I can't be dead. I'm only 17. I've got a date tonight. I'm supposed to grow up and have a wonderful life. I haven't lived yet. I can't be dead!
Later I was placed in a drawer. My folks had to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this? Why did I have to look at Mom's eyes when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life? Dad suddenly looked like an old man. He told the man in charge, "Yes, he is my son."
The funeral was a weird experience. I saw all my relatives and friends walk toward the casket. They passed by, one by one, and looked at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Some of my buddies ware crying. A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked away.
Please -- somebody -- wake me up! Get me out of here! I can't bear to see my mom and dad so broken up. My grandparents are so racked with grief they can hardly walk. My brothers and sisters are like zombies. They move like robots. In a daze, everybody. No one can believe this. And I can't believe it, either.
Please don't bury me! I'm not dead! I have a lot of living to do! I want to laugh and run again. I want to sing and dance. Please don't put me in the ground. I promise if you give me one more chance, God, I'll be the most careful driver in the whole world. All I want is one more chance!
Please, God, I'm only 17!
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-size, 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, IL. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)
Woman Needs Good Light to See Hairs on Her Chinny Chin Chin
DEAR ABBY: I was amused to read about the woman who plucked her "whiskers" at the table in the restaurant. I know EXACTLY why she does it –- especially if she sits by the window. It's because the light is probably better than at home!
Obviously she needs a lighted magnifying mirror at home – and she definitely should do her tweezing there. Tsk, tsk, so unmannerly. -– J.G. IN FRESNO
DEAR J.G.: You are not the only reader who was moved to write about the public plucker. Read on:
DEAR ABBY: Perhaps you should have consulted an expert in geriatric medicine regarding the letter about the woman tweezing the hairs on her chin. It could be a textbook symptom of senile dementia.
My guess is, as our population continues to age and some caring friends or relatives are willing to take our senior citizens out of the nursing home for a meal in a restaurant to provide a little variety in their lives, we're probably going to see more of this behavior in public places. Get over it! Wisely, the man with this woman has given up on the idea that she's capable of changing her behavior and ignores it. He just makes sure her tweezers are in her purse before he takes her out! –- BEEN THERE, DONE THAT, CINCINNATI
DEAR BEEN THERE: Oh, if it would only stop at plucking! Read on:
DEAR ABBY: If "Harriett in Hollywood" was astonished when a diner in a restaurant plucked her chin hairs at the table, hear this:
A few years ago, we were enjoying a lovely luncheon in a nice restaurant in Florence, Ore. The couple at the next table had just finished their meal. While they waited for the check, the gentleman whipped out his dentures and swished them in his water goblet, while his companion watched the waves on the shore. –- BESS IN EUGENE
DEAR BESS: Now I've heard everything. Obviously he mistook the goblet for something he could sink his teeth into. Read on:
DEAR ABBY: Basically I agree with your answer to "Harriett in Hollywood," that the woman displayed bald indifference to common table manners. However, her eyesight may be failing and the window seat at noon offered her the light she needed to complete her tweezing task. Bad taste, yes. She may also have limited funds, and therefore be unable to have this task performed for her at her beauty salon. However, I believe we should be a little more tolerant of our seniors, and more charitable. –- DAILY READER, ALTOONA, PA.
DEAR DAILY READER: I agree -– but how about applying that philosophy of tolerance and charity not only to seniors but to everyone as well? There would be less depression and fewer stress disorders if people were slower to criticize.
CONFIDENTIAL TO NERVOUS GROOM: Ogden Nash gave sage advice for wedded bliss that applies to both the bride and the groom:
"To keep your marriage brimming,
"With love in the loving cup,
"Whenever you're wrong, admit it;
"Whenever you're right, shut up."
Abby shares her favorite recipes in two booklets: "Abby's Favorite Recipes" and "Abby's More Favorite Recipes." To order, send a business-size, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 per booklet ($4.50 each in Canada) to: Dear Abby Cookbooklets I and II, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included in price.)