DEAR ABBY: Last month I saw one of those late-night "psychics" TV shows. They were begging viewers to call for a "free psychic consultation," so just for fun, I did.

As I expected, they could not give me answers to any of the specific questions I asked, and they finally admitted they were just doing a tarot card reading based on the birth date I had given them. Unfortunately, like a fool, I also gave them my mailing address. I was told, "We need it for our records."

Immediately I began to receive pounds of junk mail each week and phone calls from every kind of weird and goofy outfit you can possibly imagine. My name must have gone to 50 mailing lists! I have called and written to have this stopped, but it's as though a horrible virus has been unleashed and just keeps on spreading.

When I think of all the waste I created with a short little phone call to a bogus psychic, it makes me sick. Please, Dear Abby, warn your readers. (You may print my ame.) -- CINDY M. BLACK, SEATTLE

DEAR CINDY: On behalf of my readers, thank you for the warning. Many of them may be unaware that once this kind of personal information is given, it may be added to a database or list that is later sold -- and resold (!) -- to generate income.

DEAR ABBY: I just ended a six-year relationship. When I run into people I know and they inquire about my former companion, I simply say, "We are no longer together." Invariably, they will say something like, "Really? What happened?" How can I answer them?

I would like to say, "None of your business," but I don't have the nerve. I'm not a teen-ager; I'm a 50-year-old woman. Abby, please give me a clever comeback to let them know they're being too nosy. -- DISGUSTED IN DENVER

DEAR DISGUSTED: When you run into people you know and they persist in asking for details about the breakup, simply say, "That's a sensitive subject at this time. If you don't mind, I'd rather not discuss it."

DEAR ABBY: I am 72, and this is my first letter to you. I've been recalling memories and entering them in a family-tree program on our computer. The letter from the lady who shared the idea of putting a business card in a child's pocket for ID in case he or she got lost in a crowd brought back a good memory.

We did the same thing in 1958 before our trip to the Hudson's Department Store in downtown Detroit to see Santa Claus, and our son was instructed to show his father's business card if he got lost and someone asked his name.

We had forgotten about it until Santa asked, "And what is your name, young man?" Our 3-year-old son reached into his pocket and, without a word, handed the card to Santa. Santa just chortled and turned to all of us, "How do you like that! The kid carries his own business card!"

So thank you, Abby, and your reader for jogging this memory that is going into my file. -- BETTY IN FARMINGTON, MICH.

DEAR BETTY: Thank you for sharing that sweet family memory with my readers and me.

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: Our 36-year-old son, "Bill," has just informed us by letter that he is gay. At present, we live on opposite sides of the country, so we can't sit down and discuss this.

Bill never married, but he has dated women and even came close to marriage. He is so outgoing that strangers invite him for holiday dinners. He's a college graduate, but changes jobs frequently. Bill spent four years in the Air Force and is always working out for a healthy body. He is Catholic and respects his beliefs.

My husband thinks we got the wrong baby in the hospital where Bill was born.

How do we deal with this? Can you recommend some reading material that will help us cope? Should we go to counseling or should Bill? Are there support groups close to us? Are gay people able to abstain from having relationships without hurting their mental health or their family? Will Bill be accepted by Christ when he dies? I'm too ashamed to ask my own priest. -- NEEDS ADVICE FAST IN FLORIDA

DEAR NEEDS ADVICE FAST: Homosexuality is not a mental illness, and Bill does not need counseling. However, your husband may need it in order to accept his son's sexual orientation.

I urge you to put aside your feelings of shame and talk to your priest. The church teaches that all people are called to live chastely according to their state in life. For the married that means faithful monogamy. For the unmarried, it means sexual abstinence.

I recommend a document called "Always Our Children," which is a pastoral statement by the Commission on Marriage and Family Life of the U.S. Catholic Bishops, specially addressed to parents of gay and lesbian children. Parents do not have to choose between faith and their children. My sources within the church also tell me that Christ already accepts your son -- so put your fears to rest.

For more information and reading material, and to locate support groups in your area, write to Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG), 1101 14th St. N.W., Suite 1030, Washington, D.C. 20005.

DEAR ABBY: I couldn't believe the letter from the mail carrier, and your response, about putting mothballs in the mailbox to deter insects. This is a very bad idea.

Though many people choose to use mothballs in their homes, they are not an innocuous product. The chemicals they are made from, either naphthalene or paradichlorobenzene, can irritate skin, throat and eyes, can lead to liver damage and have been linked with cancer.

Using mothballs in the mailbox would take this product public. Mailed items, which already pick up the smell of magazine scent strips, would absorb yet another toxic scent, especially difficult for those with allergies. And I'm sure there are plenty of mail carriers who would not appreciate getting a handful of mothballs along with their deliveries.

Please retract your endorsement of this ill-advised idea. -- CAROL DAVID, BERKELEY, CALIF.

DEAR CAROL: When I wrote my answer, I was unaware of the fact that mothballs could trigger a violent allergic reaction in anyone. Therefore, I retract my answer.

If letter carriers are concerned about being bitten by insects that dwell in rural mailboxes, a safer method of protecting themselves would be to wear gloves.

Good advice for everyone -- teens to seniors -- is in "The Anger in All of Us and How to Deal With It." To order, send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby, Anger Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)

DEAR ABBY: Although this is years late, I am writing to thank you. For years I saw the addresses you printed for Operation Dear Abby. I always thought it would be nice to write to someone, but I put it off. In September 1990, when our troops were sent to the Gulf, I decided to do it.

Within three weeks I had a response. My pen pal was a young Marine with a family. I was a working woman caring for my elderly father. Our letters continued for the entire time he was in the Gulf. You cannot imagine my surprise when, shortly after his return to the United States, I received a phone call. He and his family were coming to New York City for a vacation and wanted to meet me.

Ten days later they came to dinner, and our correspondence became a deep friendship. Our two families became one. Over the next few years we spent vacations and holidays together, and we shared each other's joys and sorrows. The phone bills boosted the stock in several phone companies.

My father passed away in late 1995, but I know that our friendship with them added joy to his last years. Losing Dad was very difficult for me, and without the support and caring of my pen pal and his family, it would have been even more so. In my wildest dreams I never expected one letter to have such life-altering results. My pen pal is my best friend.

I wanted you and your readers to know that sometimes the smallest acts can produce the greatest results, and I hope this letter makes you smile. -- NEW JERSEY PEN PAL

DEAR PEN PAL: It has, and thank you for it. Your letter proves that doing a selfless good deed not only helps others, but sometimes rewards the giver tenfold.

DEAR ABBY: This is in response to "Confused in Arizona," a man who has the courage to admit that he is a victim of domestic violence. This is more pervasive than people think.

My personal saga began several years ago, when I went from one violent marriage into another. In my case, I filed charges and restraining orders against both violent individuals. At each point in the process, I have been subjected to ridicule and scorn. After all, only women are abused in this society, aren't they?

At one point, when I was in court on a domestic violence oomplaint against my wife, the judge, the defense attorney and the prosecutor all actually laughed out loud in open court at the idea that a man would file a domestic violence complaint. My wife got off, as you might expect.

Yes, I did end both relationships, but the damage has been severe. Counseling for men is woefully unavailable. There is a cultural bias that only women are abused in this society. All of the literature available for domestic violence victims refers to "he," "him," etc. as the perpetrator of the crime. It's no wonder we're embarrassed to report it.

Hang in there, "Confused." Get out and find a safe place -- but realize that you won't be believed, you will be laughed at, and there will be roadblocks at every crossroad in your recovery process. Thanks for allowing me to vent, Abby. We need outlets for our frustrations. -- NO LONGER TERRIFIED IN TACOMA

DEAR NO LONGER TERRIFIED: It is deplorable that you were treated with such insensitivity by officers of the court. Regardless of who commits it, violence is never a laughing matter.

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.