DEAR ABBY: Since my mother's death eight years ago, I have kept artificial flowers on her grave, replacing them as they become tattered or faded. Recently my oldest sister, "Eva," moved back to this area and says she intends to plant a yellow rose bush on Mom's grave, because yellow roses were her favorite flower.

I don't think live roses are appropriate on a grave, so I asked the cemetery attendant about it. He told me no one had ever made such a request, but he was unaware of any policy about planting flowers on graves. He's a friend of the family, so I'm sure he won't tell Eva that she can't plant a rose bush. He did comment that the bush would have to be kept pruned so that it wouldn't interfere with mowing.

Abby, would I be out of line to ask my sister not to follow through on her plan? The grave is near the center of our family plot, and I think the bush would be out of place. And who would be responsible for the care of the roses? I have taken pride in how Mother's grave has looked all these years, but I don't want to take care of a live plant. Couldn't Eva just plant a rose bush in her own yard and dedicate it to Mom?

Don't advise me to take a family vote. One brother agrees with Eva; the other agrees with me. What is your opinion of a rose bush on a grave? -- NOT ROSY IN KANSAS

DEAR NOT ROSY: As long as the cemetery has no policy about live plants on graves and your sister agrees to be responsible for the upkeep, I see no reason why a yellow rose bush wouldn't be lovely on your mother's grave.

Should your sister not live up to the agreement to tend the roses, you could replace the bush with the artificial flowers you prefer.

Ask yourself: "What would Mama say about this?" and be prepared to compromise.

DEAR ABBY: As part of her speech last spring at our graduation, the valedictorian read a wonderful poem. She said it was from a booklet of yours. It was called "The Guy in the Mirror," or something like that. Hearing it made me realize how important it is to live in a way that I can be proud of myself and command the respect of others.

From the reaction of the students around me, it apparently impressed them, too.

I would love to get a copy of your booklet for myself, and possibly some for my cousins who are also going away to college in a few weeks. How do I get them? -- CATHY IN CINCINNATI

DEAR CATHY: I'm pleased the poem impressed you and your classmates. It carries an important message. The name of the poem is "The Man in the Glass," and the author is Dale Wimbrow. It is found in my "Keepers" booklet, which contains a number of inspirational pieces.

To purchase "Keepers," send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds) for each booklet to: Dear Abby -- Keepers, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included in the price.)

Dear Abby is written by Pauline Phillips and daughter Jeanne Phillips.

DEAR ABBY: I could have been one of those outcast teens who shoot classmates when I was younger. Like them, I felt that I did not belong within the confines of my school. The torment started in the eighth grade and continued through my senior year of high school.

I was taunted by nearly everyone in class, made fun of because I was unpopular, and made to feel small and insignificant. I remember walking up the sidewalk to school, palms sweating, stomach in knots, knowing once again I faced another day trying to make myself as invisible as possible. It rarely worked. My tormentors always managed to use me as their whipping boy.

There were times I would lay my head on my desk, tears streaming down my face, the other kids laughing and making jokes about me. Not once did a teacher or principal come to my aid. It was as if my feelings were unimportant, or they had a mind-set that "kids will be kids." I struggled through school and kept my grades as high as possible under the circumstances I faced daily.

So why did I not take vengeance on my classmates with the nearest weapon? The answer is simple: My parents were always there for me. They were aware of my problems at school. Every day they listened to my fears and concerns, and reassured me that I was a special person and the taunts meant nothing with regard to who I really was. They cried with me, held me and listened to every word I said. They encouraged me to become my own person and to never let anyone tell me who I was or was not.

I'm saddened when I hear about young outcasts who can't cope being driven over the edge. These lives are cut short because nobody intervened when they saw what was happening. I wish I could tell them how important they are and what possibilities life has in store for them. I know what that would mean to them because I know what it meant to me.

Every day I thank God for giving me such wonderful parents. They understood and didn't ignore the fact that their son was in pain.

It took years of struggle to get past those horrible experiences in school, but I finally accomplished it. Today I am a successful, well-adjusted human being. My only regret is that I have no fond memories of high school.

Abby, until we recognize the true impact of teasing in our schools, this situation will continue to occur. Please ask your readers -- parents, teachers and even students -- to be sensitive to that young person who needs support through troubling times. They might save someone's life -- perhaps even their own. -- FORMER OUTCAST, WEST VIRGINIA

DEAR FORMER OUTCAST: I applaud you for having survived your devastating teen-age years, and for so successfully overcoming the systematic trauma you experienced. While it may appear to be a bloodless crime, people who destroy the self-esteem of others with cruelty and ridicule are really committing a violent crime. To ignore it or tolerate it is to aid and abet it.

Dear Abby is written by Pauline Phillips and daughter Jeanne Phillips.

What teens need to know about sex, drugs, AIDS and getting along with peers and parents is in "What Every Teen Should Know." To order, send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby, Teen Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included in the price.)

DEAR ABBY: Here's my "Locked in the Loo" story: As a police officer patrolling the streets, I sometimes had to use public restrooms. On one occasion, I went to a friend's business to attend to the call of nature. To get to the restroom, I had to walk through the showroom, office area, warehouse and garage. When I tried to leave the restroom, the door wouldn't open.

I didn't have the luxury of having a window through which to escape. I yelled and banged on the door, but got no response. Having no other choice, I used my portable police radio to ask the dispatcher to call the business and inform them of my plight. There was no immediate response from the dispatcher. When he did respond, I heard loud laughter in the background.

I knew immediately when my friend at the store received the phone call because I could hear howls of laughter coming from the showroom.

This happened more than 20 years ago. I'm sure that when the citizens of that fine city read this in your column, they will have another good laugh since everyone who had a police monitor heard my plea. You may use my name. -- JAMES A. OEHMKE, RETIRED TOLEDO POLICE OFFICER

DEAR JAMES: When I read your letter aloud, howls of laughter echoed throughout my office. Interesting, isn't it, how funny a predicament can be when it's happening to someone else.

DEAR ABBY: My wife and I have been married 19 years. We have one daughter in college and three at home, ages 17, 15 and 11. We went to therapy because I was unhappy. The therapist said my wife was not allowing any of us space, including me. My wife was making all the decisions -- which included having the kids believe in the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny.

My wife doesn't like one suggestion the therapist made. I believe it could work well. The therapist said we should have one weekend a month free. From Friday at 6 p.m. to midnight Sunday (54 hours), I take care of the kids and house, and my wife can do whatever she wants with the time and $120. I get the same on my weekend. The other two weekends are for the family, and the children choose alternating activities from my wife's list or mine.

On my weekend I go away fishing, camping, hiking or whatever. This is what my wife hates. Abby, I need the time alone, undisturbed, and have felt much better since I started doing it. I also enjoy having the kids alone without my wife constantly interrupting or contradicting me.

My wife will sometimes stay around the house on her "alone" weekend and try to interfere even though she's not even supposed to have dinner with us or be involved in any way when it's my weekend with the kids.

How can I get her to understand how much this means to me? How can I get her to get a life? She hates camping and fishing. Please answer soon because she's driving me and the kids crazy on my weekend with them. -- NEEDS TIME OUT IN SACRAMENTO

DEAR NEEDS TIME OUT: Your wife already understands how much your separate time means to you -- and she finds that threatening. What's sad is that the harder she clings and tries to control, the more uncomfortable she's making you and the further she's driving you away.

Some individual counseling to resolve her insecurity would be helpful. If she refuses, I see difficult times ahead.

Dear Abby is written by Pauline Phillips and daughter Jeanne Phillips.

For an excellent guide to becoming a better conversationalist and a more sociable 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, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)