DEAR ABBY: As a young woman with a hearing impairment, I am grateful for TTY (Text Teletypewriter) and TDD (Telecommunications Device for the Deaf), but I find that a large segment of the population is not familiar with these wonderful services.

Many people are intimidated by TTY or TDD. Most secretaries, receptionists and business people don't have a clue as to how to deal with a TTY client. A changed appointment date can turn an entire office into a tizzy. They don't know how to notify me. Some believe they must have a TTY phone to contact a TTY user, which is not the case. Most are unnerved by the process and simply do not bother, leaving those with a hearing impairment isolated and uninformed. I hope this letter will help people better understand and use TTY and TDD.

Instead of the usual handset, a TTY phone has a keyboard and a display panel. These phones are owned by persons who have a hearing deficiency and have difficulty understanding speech. Instead of hearing, one SEES the messages as they are transmitted by means of a telephone line.

To talk to the user of a TTY phone, you do not need a special phone. Simply dial a relay service, and calling assistants will make the connection for you. The relay number (a toll-free 800 number) is shown in the information pages at the front of every telephone directory. Use this number regardless of the destination of your call.

Once the calling assistant has made the connection and the phone is answered, your oral responses are typed for the hearing-impaired person, who reads it and types a response that the calling assistant reads to you. Thus, a conversation can be carried on. I cannot praise calling assistants highly enough. These men and women are paragons of patience and perform their duties with tact and decorum.

Abby, I and many others would appreciate your publishing this information about TTY and TDD, which for those with hearing impairments means the difference between being able to conduct one's own affairs or having to depend on others. -- L.L. LARSON, FRANKLIN, WIS.

DEAR L.L: I, too, have been hesitant to conduct a TTY phone call in the past. Thank you for a fascinating letter that will educate countless readers, as it did me.

DEAR ABBY: My wife is a fanatic about health. Shortly after we were married more than 50 years ago, she got the idea that smoking is bad for people. She solved my smoking problem her way. Every time I reached for a cigarette, she whacked me and stomped on the cigarette. I haven't smoked for the last 40 years.

She studied nutrition and diet and directed me to good health. When I reached for a not-so-healthy spoonful, I had to listen to a half-hour lecture. She yells at me, "It's time for our mile walk." I don't argue. We walk about five miles a week.

As a result of this behavior, my health is above average for my age. She has been a guardian angel to this ordinary husband. How can I show my sincere appreciation for the happier and healthier life I've enjoyed because of her? -- LUCKY OLD GUY IN OREGON

DEAR LUCKY: You just did. Place this column next to her jar of wheat germ in the morning. I wish you both many more years of good health.

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.)

DEAR ABBY: This is in response to the letter from "Ice-Cream Truck Hater," who complained that ice-cream trucks make too much noise. You advised this person not to fight an "American institution, akin to Mom and apple pie." I believe you overlooked an important point:

The practice of driving ice-cream trucks through the neighborhood may be old, but the electronic music they play nowadays is not. I remember when I was young, the ice-cream truck played a soft bell -- something quieter and less obnoxious than the tinny, constantly recycled "music" that blasts from loudspeakers. You can hear them a mile away.

Noise pollution is bound to get worse. I suggest that "Ice-Cream Truck Hater" pressure City Hall to pass an ordinance that will keep noise to a minimum. That's what we did, and our neighborhood is now peaceful again. -- NO MORE NOISY NUISANCE

DEAR NO MORE: I was surprised at the amount of emotion stirred up by ice-cream trucks. From the descriptions of many readers, the new versions are both unpleasant and intrusive. Many neighborhoods have banded together to ban excessive noise and limit the number of times a truck can drive through their neighborhood.

In fairness, however, I did hear from readers for whom the mention of ice-cream trucks evoked wonderful memories. Read on:

DEAR ABBY: Ice-cream trucks are a beautiful reminder. I frequently baby-sat my older grandchildren. I watched with them as the "pretty music" trucks drove by. Sometimes we sang along with the music or made up stories that fit it.

One day, the oldest came running in with the news: "Granny, did you know that those music trucks sell ice cream?" I pretended to be shocked. "Really, Granny," he insisted. "Uncle Eddie bought me one yesterday."

My tightly kept secret was out. My grandson turned 19 last week, and he still checks the freezer when he drops by. Thanks for the sweet memory. -- HAPPY GRANNY OF 10

DEAR HAPPY GRANNY: You are not the only reader who wrote to share a happy memory recalled because of the letter from "Ice-Cream Truck Hater." Read on:

DEAR ABBY: My children were older and in school when the ice-cream truck came by our house, but when Luke, my large German shepherd, heard it, he'd come flying into the house, barking and jumping into the air.

I'd grab my change purse, and Luke and I would join the neighborhood children in line. I'd buy myself an ice-cream sandwich and Luke a cone. The look on his face as he lay in front of my garage, with his two front paws tightly wrapped around his ice-cream cone, was something to see. Every lick was a moment of sheer bliss. I'll always treasure the memory of Luke and me and the ice-cream truck. Thanks for the memories, Abby. -- SADIE FALK, SCOTTSDALE, ARIZ.

DEAR ABBY: What can I say when my 6-year-old grandson asks, "Why are you divorced?" -- GRANDMOTHER

DEAR GRANDMOTHER: Make it brief and honest. Say, "Honey, we just couldn't get along with each other."

Everybody has a problem. What's yours? Get it off your chest by writing to Dear Abby, P.O. Box 69440, Los Angeles, Calif. 90069. For a personal reply, please enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope.

DEAR ABBY: Please remind your readers that elderly people who live alone can be vulnerable to "caregivers" who take over their lives -- and bank accounts.

I attended the funeral of a neighbor I'll call "John" who was starved and neglected while his live-in "caregiver" took seven to 10 vacations a year. She was gone all day and many nights. She left him sandwiches and liquid nutritional supplements in place of meals, and phone numbers to call if he got sick.

Well, he did get sick, several times, but was too proud to call for help. During the last two months of his life, he was often confused. He died of congestive heart failure from a cold left untreated. The caregiver blamed his death on "fumes" from urine-soaked carpet because John's two elderly dogs weren't housebroken. The truth is, John was too sick to open the patio door, and the caregiver was never there to let the dogs out or clean the carpets.

John changed his will to make the caregiver the trustee and bought her a new car. She is allowed to live in his house until it is sold, and she is selling off the contents of the house. I know for a fact that John and his late wife wanted their sizable estate to go to their elderly brothers and sisters and the county humane society. Their estate is being plundered.

Regrettably, no one intervened on John's behalf. Too late, I learned that every state has an agency on aging and an ombudsman program that will investigate reports of neglect and mistreatment of the elderly.

Friends and neighbors of the elderly living alone must be proactive and contact family or the state if something "doesn't look right." -- NEIGHBOR IN SARASOTA, FLA.

DEAR NEIGHBOR: Yours is a chilling letter. I hope it will spare similar heartbreak to other elderly who are living without benefit of family nearby.

Readers, if you suspect neglect or mistreatment of an elderly neighbor or friend, contact the adult protective services agency in your area. Anyone entrusted with the care of the aging should be carefully screened. The same agency should be able to assist you in locating properly trained and reliable caregivers.

DEAR ABBY: An old friend of ours mentioned that she was coming to town and needed a place to stay. We invited her to spend the night at our home. She and her husband own a buffalo ranch. She asked us if we would like to taste some buffalo sausage and we said, "Sure."

When she arrived, she was carrying a small package of frozen buffalo sausage and her recent wedding video. After a nice dinner and viewing the video, we gave her a wedding gift that we had recently purchased in Greece.

Now, here is the odd part: My wife and I had to leave the next morning for work. We left our guest a key to lock the door when she left. When we returned from work that evening, we noticed a note on our kitchen counter. We thought it would be a "thank you" for the previous evening. Instead, it was a bill for the buffalo sausage! There was no mention of our hospitality or the wedding gift.

Of course we will pay the bill, but enclosed with our check will be a bill for her night's lodging and dinner. Abby, what do you think? -- BUFFALOED IN ST. PAUL

DEAR BUFFALOED: I think your friend left her manners back at the ranch. Forget sending her a bill. When you sign the check for the buffalo sausage, write this woman off as well.

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.)