When the handkerchief went out of general use after centuries of faithful service, nobody even waved goodbye.

It would have been useless anyway. Bare wiggling fingers cannot be seen from the distance.

Nor was there a fond tear shed for this resourceful companion. That would have been foolhardy, as it would have necessitated the yucky gesture of dabbing at the face with wadded paper goods.

Fortunately for Miss Manners, handkerchiefs did not cease to exist just because a generation grew up without being able to figure out their use. Her problem of having goods she likes disappear from the marketplace -- white kid gloves, for example, or for that matter, short white cotton ones -- was not the case here. Handkerchiefs can still be found for sale, although not yet with instruction manuals. Goodness knows what the purchasers do with them, other than attempting to distract basketball players taking foul shots.

But there are many legitimate things you can do with them, which is why handkerchiefs were carried by both ladies and gentlemen for centuries. Even the two functions already mentioned are fraught with dramatic possibilities. Extending the visibility of hand signals is not limited to running along the train platform miming "I can't bear to let you out of my sight." It can also be for attracting attention while screaming, "You've got the keys! The keys, the keys! Open the window and toss me the keys!" to the departing passenger who smiles from behind the glass and waves back.

Anyone who might have occasion to declare "Don't shoot -- I surrender!" should be sure to carry a clean white handkerchief, although under the circumstances, a dirty one might do. The same is true of those who might like to notify passing helicopters and ships that they are not lolling on desert islands for their health and very much want to leave now if someone would be kind enough to offer them a lift.

Tears come in so many varieties that everyone would profit from the ability to wipe them away gracefully. There are tears of happiness at weddings, tears of sadness at funerals and tears at peeling onions. True, the last can be handled with a paper kitchen towel, but surely not the previous two. Should one's emotions be at variance with the occasion, the handkerchief can be used as a mask to hide sadness at weddings and satisfaction at funerals.

Wiping away the tears of others is also a charming gesture -- the child whose knee was scraped, the lover who was scrapped. The rule was that a gentleman always carried two handkerchiefs, one for himself and the other to hand to a distressed lady. Should he be a cad, this would be all the more necessary, as it is only sporting to offer to mop the tears one has caused.

Ladies had another reason for carrying spare handkerchiefs. A bit of lace dropped at the foot of a strange gentleman gave him an excuse to run after her to open an acquaintanceship.

Handkerchiefs can smother ill-timed laughter, as well as impromptu noises that would be improper at any time. They can dry perspiring hands and wipe outdoor chairs free of dew. And, as a last resort, they can even be used to blow the nose.

What item takes up so little space for the number of functions it has? All right, your pocketknife. But a handkerchief doesn't make trouble passing through security.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: In a conversation with my cousin about the upcoming holidays, she told me that she had ordered some clothing out of a catalog, which her husband would then reimburse her for. This is his Christmas gift to her. Is this some new tradition I am unaware of?

GENTLE READER: Which one? The tradition of husbands who don't give presents, either because they don't trouble themselves or because they can't figure out what to get? Or the one of wives who charge them for it but buy their own either because they aren't given any or because they prefer to choose their own?

Miss Manners suspects that neither is new. If neither of them minds the fact that this defeats the emotional value of presents as symbols of thoughtfulness, she supposes it works.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: My mother told us kids (40 years ago) a saying to remind us to dip our soupspoon away from us when scooping up the soup: "Like a little ship at sea, dip your spoon away from me."

Since everyone in my current family thinks that is nonsense, have you heard this before, and why exactly are you supposed to dip your spoon "away from me"?

GENTLE READER: Your family doubts your mother's wisdom? Just because it doesn't make much sense? The ship's dipping, that is; it doesn't quite sound safe. Miss Manners seems to recall it sailing away from the person who was about to devour its ocean.

But soupspoons most certainly should be used away from oneself. This has a safety angle, too. Should you attack the soup with excessive enthusiasm, it will at least be away from your clothing.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I recently married my partner in a state that permits same-sex weddings. It was a small civil ceremony with only two witnesses; we didn't even tell anyone we were going to do it. Later that week, I sent about 50 handwritten announcements to friends and family.

My problem is that out of all those people, we received almost no acknowledgment: one phone call and one card, and that's it. There are even people we see fairly regularly who did not take a moment to congratulate us.

I understand that what we did is, for some reason, considered controversial and even terribly shocking by some. But these are people I've known -- in many cases -- for my entire life, people whose elaborate weddings I've attended and participated in, people for whom I've purchased lavish wedding presents even if I could not attend their ceremonies.

Not that I expect any gifts in return -- far from it, we didn't even register. But I take great offense at the lack of acknowledgment, as if I've done something so terribly shameful it must be forever ignored.

I must point out that my homosexuality itself is not the issue here. I've been "out" to everyone I know for over 10 years, and everyone has always liked my partner very much. Am I being petty for begrudging people the time to "get used to" this new development?

I tell myself that since I eloped and didn't make a big deal about getting married, my friends and family feel they don't need to make a big deal, either. But even some "best wishes" e-mails would have been nice.

How do I go forward in dealing with these people? Do I allow my marriage to become some great, unspoken tension between me and the people I once considered close? Am I now free to ignore any future announcements sent by those who are snubbing me now?

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners has some information that will be as reassuring for you as it is discouraging for her. It is that people routinely ignore wedding announcements, shockingly rude as that is.

They know that they are supposed to send presents when they receive invitations to weddings, although it rarely occurs to them that they are also obligated to answer those invitations. But they fail to understand that when friends make an announcement -- whether formally or face to face -- it should elicit congratulations.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am always polite when co-workers with whom I am not friends say "What are you doing for the weekend (holiday, Christmas, Easter, etc.)?" Sometimes I say, "Nothing special" or "I haven't decided yet," but what I want to say is "None of your business" or "Why do you ask?"

Why are these people interested in what I am doing? I have absolutely no interest in their lives! My friends (and I do have some at work) either know what I'm doing because we've discussed it, or they know not to ask. Any boss I've ever had would never be so intrusive, nor would I to them.

How do I convey to these people that I find their questions annoying and intrusive so that they will stop asking?

And while we're on the subject, "How was your weekend?" is annoying as well. I don't care how their weekend was, so why should they care about mine? This one is easier to handle, however. I just say "Fine, thanks" and leave it at that.

GENTLE READER: And they don't say, "Fine in what way? Where were you? What did you do? What's the full story here?"

No, because Miss Manners doubts that they are burning with curiosity about your weekends and holidays. Asking is merely a polite convention. If you doubt this, try giving a detailed description of how you went to the grocery store, watched a DVD, had coffee with a neighbor, thought about exercising but never got around to it and so on. See if they hang on your every word.

Your "Fine, thanks" works. The equivalent, when asked for your plans would be something like, "Relaxing, I hope" or "I don't know, I have so much to do, I don't know where to start." There is no need to register annoyance at a mere show of politeness.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am no longer clear on what is the appropriate etiquette regarding periods of mourning. A close friend's mother died the day before Thanksgiving. While she had been ill for some time, her passing was rather more sudden than anyone expected, I believe.

Now the holiday season is upon us. I know it would be inappropriate to issue invitations to my friend for large gatherings. At the same time, I don't wish him to feel excluded or abandoned. Would it be appropriate to invite him to small dinners?

GENTLE READER: The reason you are not clear on this is that the situation is no longer clear. Since the demise of formal mourning, which specified the period of time that one did not go out socially, the bereaved all decide for themselves.

Thus it is equally possible to upset them by inviting them, as if had nothing happened, and by not inviting them, as if you have abandoned them. Miss Manners recommends asking your friend if he feels up to attending a party or if he would prefer a quiet dinner. If he is not venturing out socially yet, it would be kind of you to propose paying him a visit during the holidays -- a private one at which he can unburden himself without others present -- so that he is not left entirely alone.

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