DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am in my 20s and have used a wheelchair for more than a decade, so I am accustomed to pushing myself, shopping, using public transportation, working and otherwise running my life. However, I can't seem to accustom myself to others' reactions to me.

I realize that many, if not all, of the people who make comments about my disability or ask me questions have good intentions. In fact, I think that they frequently believe they are being especially kind and friendly. However, they drive me crazy!

The comments and questions fall into a few general categories:

"You're so inspiring!"

"You're so good at that!" (This refers to something like pushing elevator buttons or drinking from a water fountain or crossing the street unassisted.)

"What's wrong with you?"

"How do you do X?" (e.g., use the toilet, write, fly on an airplane, have sex, etc.)

"I will pray for you." (Or "You should pray for yourself" or "This is God's plan for your life.")

"Let me tell you what will fix you."

"I have a relative/friend/client who has such-and-such condition, and here is her life story."

"Do you have a license for that thing?" (Or "Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket?")

I am only talking about strangers here; these are not people with whom I have any social or professional connections. Often the person is considerably older than I am.

I do not wish to be rude or to leave people feeling bad about their encounters with me. I also don't want to spend much time on them, give out personal information, or do anything to encourage them to behave the same way with the next person with a disability who crosses their path.

People also often offer to help me. I appreciate their kindness and willingness to be of service. If I want their help, I accept it with thanks.

If I don't, I refuse politely. My refusal is frequently followed by increasingly insistent offers of the same help I've just declined, sometimes bolstered with explanations of why I really need it. Occasionally people take it upon themselves to help me without giving any warning. For example, someone might run up behind me and start pushing my wheelchair when I'm going down the street. What is a proper response in these circumstances?

GENTLE READER: "Excuse me, is there some way I can be of assistance to you?"

For the ruder questions, the first two words are boomed out; for others, the words to be emphasized are "I" and "you."

Miss Manners promises that this will produce a dumbfounded look, during which you can say pleasantly, "Well, then, I'll be on my way" and leave.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: What do you bring to dinner when invited by another couple?

GENTLE READER: Promptness, cheerfulness, sociability and a sense of social indebtedness strong enough to require you to send a letter of thanks immediately afterward and a reciprocal invitation in the near future. Bringing flowers or candy is optional, and bringing food and drink to anything other than a cooperative party is (Miss Manners assures you, in contradiction of what you are told elsewhere) superfluous.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I was stunned to receive an invitation to dinner that read: "Instead of having everyone bring something, we will assemble the feast and split the bill with everyone -- a 'Beggar's Banquet.'"

I thought it was in extremely bad taste -- charging your guests for dinner!

Am I out of touch with the times? Is this a new trend in entertaining? What are the rules of etiquette that apply here?

GENTLE READER: It is true that there has been a trend toward shuffling the obligations of the hosts onto the guests, which is, in turn, part of a larger trend toward squeezing cash and goods out of friends in any way possible.

Miss Manners has been fighting greed and ungraciousness for years, with little hope of success as long as people are intimidated into paying up. Even so, she would have thought that a "beggar's banquet" would be one in which beggars were invited to eat, not one in which the beggar does the inviting.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: What are the obligations of amateur musicians who act as professional mourners?

I sing in a local chorus. Sadly, our group has had to sing at the memorial services of several members. We may not all know each other well, but we share this bond of music. So when the deceased or his family has requested a favorite piece, we turn out in force. At some services, we're a large portion of the congregation.

The problem comes when we're not singing, and the deceased's friends deliver informal reminiscences. People close to the family express their sorrow, and the rest of us learn about other facets of the deceased. But too often the unstructured time encourages anecdotes that seem trivial, self-indulgent and long. Some members of the chorus squirm or even leave.

Maybe we need two kinds of memorials: a formal service and an intimate gathering for sharing memories. Failing that, how should a singer who is not an intimate honor the dead?

GENTLE READER: Several traditional events at which mourners reminisce informally about the deceased already exist: the wake, the gathering at the home of the bereaved after the funeral, and the condolence visit.

If there were eulogies at the funeral itself, they were supposed to be formal and serious. But now that funeral ceremonies are patterned on entertainment, people often skip the other events or use them to discuss subjects of more immediate interest to them, such as the dead person's bad health habits or when his real estate will come on the market.

Miss Manners sympathizes with your having to endure meandering, perhaps even tasteless or self-serving tributes to those you do not know well -- although it might be even more painful to hear them for those you do know well.

Nevertheless, you must all stop squirming and stay. As funerals and memorial services are not really meant to entertain, sitting quietly through them is a necessary sign of respect toward your deceased colleague.

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Would George Washington be proud of the way Americans have come to value and practice honesty?

Never mind the vast number of citizens who openly discuss cheating on their taxes. Never mind the travelers who brag about the souvenirs they pocketed from restaurants and hotels or the purchases they plan to slip by customs. Never mind the workers whose private lives, on the job and off, are conducted with the blatant use of equipment and supplies involuntarily provided by their employers.

Those are just ordinary folks with a spirited sense of fairness. Or so they tell themselves. The righteous indignation with which they are able to defend such behavior as rebellion against unjust practices, pay scales and prices makes them sound like patriots.

These may be some of the same people Miss Manners has in mind, but she is considering their sense of honesty in situations that they believe to be of more serious moral consequence. That is, when they might be expected to say something nice that is not an honest reflection of their personal feelings at the moment.

Such as "You look terrific."

Or "I'm so glad to see you."

Or "What a cute baby."

Or "Congratulations, I'm so happy for you."

Or "This was exactly what I wanted; how did you know?"

Or "This is delicious."

Or "I had a wonderful time."

Or "I hate to leave, but I promised to get home."

Or "I'd love to, but unfortunately I have another engagement then."

Or "I'm just not ready for a serious relationship."

With their sense of integrity blazing, the Honesty Squad points out that the truth, in these cases, is quite different:

It is "You're fat."

And "Not you again."

And "Scary baby you've got there. Is it normal?"

And "How come you have all the luck when I'm the one who deserves it and never have any?"

And "Why can't you just fork over the money so I can get something I want?"

And "Yuck."

And "Boooring!"

And "I'm outta here."

And "There must be something better to do."

And "I'm looking for someone with looks and money, which you don't have. Failing that, I at least need someone more exciting."

Not all of these statements are actually made. There is enough residual etiquette sense in most people to warn them that there is something not quite nice -- or safe -- about insulting others to their faces.

Yet they believe it is the right thing to do. It is honest, they will argue, and it is also helpful, as it provides others with truthful feedback.

So they may say something slightly less offensive but scrupulously not nice, such as, "Well, good for you" or "I'll let you know -- I don't know what I'll feel like doing then." Or they may simply leave silence where the kind phrases ought to be.

It is doubtless unfair to blame George Washington and that dubious cherry-tree tale for inspiring his countrymen to such displays of honesty. But Miss Manners notices that this story's example teaches one to confess to one's own shortcomings, not to draw attention to other people's.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: What is the correct response to the occasional drunken e-mail from an ex-girlfriend, with whom I am on civil -- if distant -- terms?

It is embarrassing and tedious to read of her night's sexual conquest or, even worse, her professed continuing love amid a cornucopia of typographical errors and misplaced punctuation. Is polite admonishment in order? Perhaps we need to legislate EUI (E-mailing Under the Influence) and install breathalyzers on the workstations of habitual offenders.

GENTLE READER: When someone you know is, as we delicately say, "not herself," the polite reaction is to not notice (or, in cases where it is necessary to confiscate keys or visit emergency rooms, not to remember having noticed). If Miss Manners is not mistaken, your computer has a key designed for that purpose.

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