DEAR READERS: On Oct. 15, I asked those of you who were the children of "older parents" to write me about how it affected you, in order to help a couple in their 40s decide whether or not to start a family. I was unprepared for the avalanche of letters I received passionately arguing both sides of the issue. Some of the loving tributes brought tears to my eyes.

The letters ran about 4-to-1 in favor of starting a family. However, today we'll hear from those who voted "no." Read on:

DEAR ABBY: While I love my parents very much and thank God for them daily, having aging parents was hard on me emotionally. I remember praying to God when I was only 4 years old that he would allow my parents to live until I grew up. I worried they wouldn't live to see me through elementary school. Every ache and pain weighed heavily on my heart. Of course, having older parents was not all bad -- I learned to be very independent at a young age, because I was preparing to carry on alone.

My advice to the couple considering having children: If you are in good health and are well prepared to be around for the next 40 to 50 years, by all means have children. Just keep in mind that they'll be counting on you to be around, so take care of your health.

Another suggestion: If you're hesitant about having children, why not share your love and life by adopting older children who need loving homes? That way, you won't be the oldest parents at PTA meetings. -- CALIFORNIA READER

DEAR CALIFORNIA READER: Your letter touched on several points that were echoed by many readers. Read on:

DEAR ABBY: I hope the 40-somethings who are considering becoming parents will consider my advice: PLEASE DON'T!

You might be fooling yourselves about how young and fit you are. When your child is an infant, maybe you won't look like his grandparents. But trust me, the age difference will show up before long.

Have you ever taken care of an infant long enough to discover how exhausting infant care can be? Will you have the stamina to stay up all night with a sick child and still go to work in the morning? When you're in your 60s and your child is a teen-ager, will you snap back after being up all night wondering where that child is? Or worse, because you DO know -- thanks to a cop who called to say your kid has been arrested? Don't think it won't happen.

No matter how healthy you feel, the actuarial tables are not on your side. If you feel the need to have children in your life, I recommend you take in foster children. -- NO NAME PLEASE, ORLANDO, FLA.

DEAR ABBY: My mother was 45 and my dad was 51 when I was born. Dad died when I was 16, leaving me to care for my mother, who was 62. I basically had no parents, and my youth was stolen by responsibility.

If those people want children in their lives, please tell them to be a Big Brother or Sister, or adopt an older child. There are too many unwanted and neglected children out there already.

I grew up with parents who were too old and too tired all the time. I grew up in funeral homes because my dad was the youngest of 12, and the aunts and uncles were dropping like flies. Believe me, it's no life for a kid. Sign me ... THE ACCIDENT

Tomorrow we'll hear from those readers who spoke for the majority -- and urged the hesitant couple in their 40s to "go for it!" Stay tuned.

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DEAR ABBY: I am a 47-year-old woman who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder (manic depression) four years ago. The doctor said the medication would take care of it, then he sent me home to deal with it.

The medication helped for a while; however, I became resentful and unhappy with the side effects and quit taking it. I seemed to be fine for the first six months, then boom -- manic city! I ended up at a psychiatric center for five days.

I voluntarily attended the two-week intensive outpatient program. I am back on lithium and feel good.

During the program I learned there is a mountain of information about this disorder and also support groups on chat lines. What a relief it was to learn I was not alone.

Abby, please tell your readers who suffer from bipolar disorder that there is more help available than just taking medication, and urge them to avail themselves of everything they can to cope with their manic depression. You may use my name. -- JILL E. HAYES, SACRAMENTO

DEAR JILL: Although the symptoms are different from physical illnesses, mental illnesses are conditions for which treatment is often effective. Just as one would see a doctor and take medication for pneumonia, one should see a counselor or psychiatrist for treatment of mental illness.

Readers, if you suffer from manic depression or any other mental disorder, please don't hesitate to talk to your physician about getting help.

DEAR ABBY: I would like to share an act of kindness that I experienced.

I am an American of Japanese descent, born in Torrance, Calif. My mother died when I was very young. My siblings and I were placed in a Japanese orphanage in Los Angeles.

My story takes place in the mid-'30s when I was in the second grade. At that time, and for many years prior, Asians and other non-whites were discriminated against by private citizens, businesses and government. For example, only two or three beaches were open to us, and very few of us were allowed to matriculate in the colleges and state universities.

However, the public schools were not segregated. I attended Micheltorena grade school on Sunset Boulevard. The brown bag lunch I took to school from "home" was usually a beet sandwich with a little mayonnaise and a green apple. Sometimes I got a peanut butter sandwich with an apple. The peanut butter was diluted with syrup and spread so thin there was literally no space between the slices of bread.

After a couple of months, some of the students who sat on the same bench to eat lunch noticed my thin sandwiches. One day, a Caucasian girl named Gloria sat down beside me. She reached into her lunch box and brought out a baloney sandwich and handed it to me. My God, a sandwich with a nice piece of meat and lettuce and mustard, too! I had never had anything like that before. Every couple of weeks, she would bring me another wonderful sandwich.

When the next semester began, she was not at school, so obviously her family had moved. I never saw her again, but every once in a while I think of Gloria and how compassionate she was. More recently, I began to think about how compassionate her mother must have been, too, bowing to Gloria's request for an extra sandwich for someone who had little. What a lovely person she must have been to have instilled such generosity in her little girl -- especially for someone of a different race.

I don't remember Gloria's last name, but I do remember that she had freckles and bangs, and that she wore her brown hair so short that it covered only half her ears. I hope she reads this so she'll know that even today I am thankful for her kindness. -- TOSHI FUJIKAWA, SAN PEDRO, CALIF.

DEAR MR. FUJIKAWA: If I hear from Gloria, I'll let you know. Meanwhile, thank you for sharing your childhood memory.

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DEAR ABBY: What percentage of people find their soul mates? You once advised a young man who had doubts about his relationship to keep searching. How long does one search? I am married to a man who is decent and has similar values to mine, but he is definitely not my soul mate. If I had kept searching for my soul mate, would I have found him? What if he lived in another state? How would I ever find him? Would I have been too old to have children by the time I found him?

I have pondered these questions all my life. In my experience, love is not equal. I once found a man I thought was my soul mate, but he didn't really love me; and some men in whom I had no interest pursued me. This confuses me. Isn't it supposed to be that two people find each other and fall madly in love?

My husband and I have children, and they are the joy of my life. I suppose I love him, but it is more like loving a brother -- there is no passion. I thought he would open up eventually, but he never did.

I have seen people who have happier marriages, but I think it is basically dumb luck that they found the right person and that person loves back with equal fervor.

Abby, I don't expect you to have all the answers, but I needed to ask someone. Thanks for listening. -- EXAMINING LIFE IN OHIO

DEAR EXAMINING: I'm happy to listen, and wish I could answer all your questions. Just as no two people are alike, no two marriages are alike. Some couples are content with "brotherly" companionship, which can include a deep and meaningful love. Others enjoy a fiery passion. Some have both. However, it is important to remember there is a vast difference between real life and fantasy. If the pluses in your marriage outweigh the minuses, you are better off than many.

DEAR ABBY: The letter from "Grandma in Saratoga Springs, N.Y.," who wanted to know how to tell a child the truth about Santa Claus, reminded me of my own experience:

Born in 1940, my son, in addition to being an only child, was a "war baby." During his early childhood, toys were almost impossible to find. The things little boys crave -- toy trucks, planes, trains, tricycles, etc. -- were not being manufactured. In 1943, he went to the circus for the first time. When he was asked what he wanted for Christmas, he said he wanted a real elephant or a red wagon. One was as easy to find as the other.

We were eager to keep his belief in Santa alive as long as possible. My mother told me to give up, but I kept saying, "Just one more year." We finally located a wagon late on Christmas Eve.

Finally, when my son was 7, Mom came to me and said I could stop pretending. He had confided to her that he knew there was no Santa Claus, but, "Don't tell Mom because she still believes in him." Needless to say, that solved the problem. -- VIVIENNE LINDSAY, LANCASTER, CALIF.

DEAR VIVIENNE: When I responded to "Grandma in Saratoga Springs," I missed an opportunity to point out that many families use the "moment of truth" when talking to their children about Santa to reinforce their belief in the spirit of Christmas that Santa Claus represents -- that of giving.

Many older children cherish the "grown-up" responsibility of keeping the belief alive in their younger siblings. Thus the spirit of giving passes from one generation to the next.

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