DEAR MISS MANNERS: Countless times I have been at weddings, farewell parties, post-premiere cast parties, etc., where various guests have decided -- often, I am certain, without asking the host's permission -- to give a speech. They invariably do this by banging a spoon on a glass, thereby interrupting other people's conversations, which are often far more interesting than the ramblings they are about to be forced to sit through.

I have always felt this to be rude, and have resented being cut off in mid-sentence because someone else feels he has the need to share his thoughts with the entire assemblage of guests.

Am I wrong to feel this way? And if not, is there a way to prevent such behavior? I will soon be giving a large party for my own farewell from my company (I'm the boss, so it's expected of me), and I really do not want my guests or myself to be subjected to a lot of boring speeches.

GENTLE READER: Wait -- as you will be the host, retiree and boss on this occasion, surely those boring speeches on this occasion would be to praise you. Or at any rate, they would be about you.

Miss Manners gives you all the more credit for attempting to head them off. While most people find speeches about others colossally boring, they are apt to think of ones about themselves as being spontaneous outbursts of sincere admiration. Short, thought-out tributes can be heart-warming, but, as you point out, the tedious and misguided sort are more common.

However, being right about feeling that way is one thing, and being able to stop them is another. This cannot be done once someone has lurched to his feet, and even a plea beforehand often inspires someone to pop up and announce, "I just want to say one thing."

Your best hope is to get up and say, "Because I dislike spoiling a good dinner with speeches, I only want to thank you all for making this company what it is, and to tell you how much I will miss you all" and then announce another activity: "And now I'd like to start the dancing" or "and now coffee will be served in the other room."

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Many years ago, I changed my name. While I do not broadcast this fact, neither do I conceal it, and it occasionally comes up in conversation, where it is not uncommon for people to ask why I did it.

My name change was a very personal matter. People who have changed their names tend to feel the same way divorcees typically feel about their past marriages: a divorce is not a secret, but the reasons for a divorce are very private. People generally understand this about divorces, but with name changes, many seem not to.

I've never been sure how to handle it when people ask the reasons for my name change. I would like to give the inquirers the benefit of the doubt, because I truly believe they are making an honest mistake and don't understand that they're asking about something very personal. Do you have any thoughts or suggestions?

GENTLE READER- Miss Manners finds it more graceful to supply an answer -- any answer -- than to argue. Try "My father was a horse thief, and I am trying to escape the shame."

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I was shocked to see a young Olympic contender applauding after her performance on the ice rink. Of late, I have also seen the wives of politicians applaud their husbands' speeches, actors applauding on stage during a curtain call and actors applauding at awards ceremonies.

I dismissed my discomfort as being a spoilsport until, coincidentally, the next day, I watched a biography of President John F. Kennedy on television, and I noticed that his wife Jacqueline did not applaud during his inaugural address, during his memorable "Ask not what your country can do for you" line.

Mrs. Kennedy's behavior is what I was taught as a child -- that it is not permissible to applaud for oneself, nor for any close member of one's family.

Have I got it wrong? Or have times changed? And what about if one's spouse or child wins an award, or if they are participating in a sporting event?

GENTLE READER: Speaking of spoilsports, what you observed may have been an example of the "Hooray for me!" ethic that has replaced sportsmanship. However, it could also have been just a thoughtless example of the general applause inflation that has everyone batting hands together all the time, like so many seals.

That times have indeed changed in these respects does not, however, move Miss Manners to declare public self-congratulation to be correct. Applause is a gesture by which outsiders demonstrate their approval. It should not be used to display one's own conceit, family pride or, in the case of those performing together, mutual admiration.

The proper response, when one receives an award, is modesty. Lowered eyes and a bashful smile will do it in most cases. Blowing kisses back to the audience is not recommended unless you are certain they have gone wild with joy. In the case of family and fellow performers, supporters should beam a look of pride toward the winner.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My sister died recently, much to the dismay of all who knew her. Unfortunately, a few well-wishing friends have used a query that undermines their efforts.

The question is, "Were you and [deceased] close?" If the answer is "Yes", that makes the loss feel all the worse. If the answer is "No," it is a good bet that the distance is a source of regret, and admitting it may suggest the distance is someone's fault.

When I get this line, I reply, "She was my sister," or, for the more persistent, "There's really no good answer to that question," but other survivors might be more taken aback. While you have already addressed "How are you?" in a bereavement situation, would you please remind your gentle readers that this is an even less effective consolation?

GENTLE READER: It certainly is. Some day, one of them is going to get the reply, "No -- we were rivals, and now I've won."

Not from you, Miss Manners trusts. Your response, "She was my sister" is an excellent one, and highly effective if properly delivered. Your eyes and mouth should open in shock when you say this, and the word "sister" should be strongly emphasized to make the point that one does not set a value on relatives.

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A lady of Miss Manners' acquaintance was required to remove her sweater in a crowd full of strangers.

Fortunately, she was also of Miss Manners' vintage, so under the sweater, she wore a garment once known to all fastidious ladies as a "full slip." Such a garment still exists, but it is now mistakenly called a "dress." To the shock of youthful observers, the lady in question appeared to be outfitted in preparation for quick stripping, presumably so as not to waste any time in hitting the club scene once she arrived at her destination.

A young gentleman of Miss Manners' acquaintance was ordered first to stretch his arms out straight from his shoulders, then to unfasten his belt buckle. When he attempted to use his hands to follow the second instruction, he was caught violating the first. "Didn't I tell you to keep your arms up?" the guard barked.

Miss Manners got off easy. All she had to do was to remove her shoes and, for the first time since ballet class, hold her toes up to public view.

And people had been complaining that air travel lost its dignity when the passengers stopped wearing gloves and hats to travel.

As we all recognize, the choice between dignity and safety is no choice at all -- especially among people who want to go where they are scheduled to go, and who happen to notice that armed guards are present. The question is whether we can have both.

Not that travelers should reasonably expect this. Since the days when innkeepers unceremoniously stuffed their clients into one another's rooms and beds, the realistic choice was between dignity and travel.

Anyway, if the phrase "carefree travel" were not just a travel-brochure fantasy, it would ruin the experience. Stories about ludicrous incidents, preferably embarrassing ones, form the staple of returned travelers' conversation. As they quickly discover, no one is willing to listen to how deeply they felt about visiting the actual place where something historical happened, or the menu of that great little restaurant unknown to the rest of the tourist world.

Still, there are little adjustments that would make air security investigations less of a trial, not just for those going abroad, but for those who are employed to go through their unsavory belongings.

For example, Miss Manners would like to see the fashion industry make a patriotic attempt to popularize the Frieda Kahlo look, so that the panic potential would be removed from tweezers being confiscated. And, if airports set up laundry machines outside the security lines, this would give passengers something to do while waiting in line, and spare the inspectors having to see their unmentionables in an unmentionable state.

Etiquette adjustment is even more important. Pretending not to notice the obvious, such as topless ladies and open-trousered gentlemen, does not come easily to a population that has accustomed itself to expressing its every observation, to the extent of informing strangers that they are tall or fat. Yet, it is a necessity.

Never one to give out prizes for natural behavior, Miss Manners has been pleased to observe people in various aspects of this situation rising above their natural reactions.

Crime fighters naturally regard everyone with suspicion, yet she has observed quite a number of them treating suspects -- meaning the entire traveling public -- with polite deference. Many have revived the nearly forgotten terms "sir" and "madam," and convey through their calmness the notion that they are performing a regrettably necessary routine rather than relishing their authority to make people squirm.

Citizens naturally take the position that they are so obviously respectable that any such routines are a waste of time, causing security people to neglect their real job of catching criminals. Yet, she has seen examples of patience and grace practiced by those being searched, which are all the more amazing considering that only a year ago, it was common to observe people going into rages at airports merely over delays caused by bad weather.

Her prize for civilized restraint under pressure goes to Rep. John Dingell (D-Mich.) Subjected to the pants-down search at airport security, he never once let drop the fact that he is a Member of Congress. Now that is the kind of unnatural behavior that Miss Manners admires.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: A lot of my colleagues close their letters with the phrase, "With kind regards." This sounds strange to me.

It seems to me that the recipient should decide whether the regards are kind or not, not the sender. I always thought you were supposed to say "Best regards" if you wanted an informal closure to your letter. What do you think about this?

GENTLE READER: "Best regards"? What makes you think your regards are better than anyone else's?

Never mind, Miss Manners doesn't mean that. She knows you have kindly intentions. She believes that your colleagues do, too, when they send their most kindly meant regards.

Perhaps not. Perhaps there are unkind thoughts being harbored by someone. If so, she would rather not know about this, and prefers generously -- if she does say so herself -- to take them at face value. She trusts that this makes up for her snippiness about hosts who ask for "regrets only," on the presumption that people declining their invitations must be overcome with regret.

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