Dear Waldo,

My Auntie Samantha has always hated her eyebrows because she thinks they make her look grouchy. So she plucked them all out and then she drew on fake ones, but the fake ones are I’d say at least three-quarters of an inch higher on her forehead than the originals, and reddish. When she said, “Don’t they make me look happier?” I said, “Do they ever!” But in my head I’m thinking, “Auntie Samantha, what they make you look is insane, girl. Let find us some rubbing alcohol.” Waldo, I do love my Auntie Samantha, and so I guess my question is, should I have told her the truth?

Signed,

Adeline from Leverett

Dear Adeline from Leverett,

By using the word Truth you have opened up a yummy can of worms, if there is such a thing as a can of worms that is yummy. What you think to be True is nothing but your own version of Reality. Your Truths are completely up to you. Reality, on the other hand, is completely up to the universe. Your Truths may change daily with your moods. Reality, on the other hand, evolves forever. You may care deeply about something. Reality, on the other hand, does not give a #&@ about anything. Truth lets you be the boss. Reality is the boss. But I scoot ahead of myself.

This repositioning of Auntie Samantha’s eyebrows has made it True for you that Auntie Samantha now looks somewhat nutty. But for Auntie Samantha, her Truth is that her new eyebrows represent an improvement that delights her. And so why rain on Auntie Samantha’s lovely parade with that cloudburst of your Truth? I say keep it to yourself. If you can’t say something nice then

Uh-oh. Oh dear. I hear a distant chorus screaming WALDO YOU’RE SUCH AN IDIOT! HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD THAT THE TRUTH SHALL SET YOU FREE?

OK, OK. Calm down, calm down. Please hear me out. My “If-you-can’t-say-something-nice thing” and your “The truth-shall-set-you-free thing” both roll around in the same container with The All-Time Greatest Bromide Ever: “The do-unto-others thing.” Folks, just because a terrific suggestion is difficult to obey doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it a shot.

And so, Adeline, if I were in your shoes, I would tell your Auntie Samantha this: “Good Lordy, Auntie Samantha, do you ever look wonderful! What on earth have you done?”

Your Fan,

Waldo Mellon

Dear Waldo,

We’re about to get married and we love each other and all that, but for the past month we’ve tried to write out some good vows but both of us agree our vows stink. We were wondering if you got any ideas about a vow that doesn’t come across as nothing but corny.

Thank you,

Fed up in Belchertown

Dear Fed Up,

I know exactly what you’re talking about. You don’t want to sound like everybody else getting married. And you certainly don’t want to make the kind of outlandish promises to each other that topple the older married guests out of their seats guffawing. So here is the one thing that I wish I had added to my vows 35 years ago: I promise to try to be a better listener. I promise I will work hard not to tune you out during an argument while I work on the final draft of my magnificent rebuttal to whatever the heck you were saying just before I tuned you out. And I promise that every time I break this promise I will work hard to say I’m sorry and mean it. If you will.

There. That’s it. I think it’s a pretty good rule in general. Feel free to fiddle with it. It’s all yours if you want it.

Your Fan,

Waldo Mellon

Dear Waldo,

I am writing to you because you seem interested in this kind of thing. I was with my husband Bertito when he died at home in the bed we put in the TV room. It was a bright summer day, and the children and grandchildren and some friends had gone for a walk and it was just me sitting there with Bertito holding his hand. At this point he was beyond hearing me, but still I wanted to talk to him. And so I made a little list in my head. My first thought was to tell him how much I love him, but I had told him that so many times. The second thing was our two sons, their lives, the joys and the troubles, but again there was nothing new in it. And in my head I went down my list. And then I just stopped, and I looked at him, and his jaw was slack. And I stood up and I leaned down and I gently blew into his mouth like he blew into that conch we found on Coney Island when we were dating and he told me when you blow into one of them every conch in the world is at that moment singing. Then I just sat back down, holding his hand, nothing else on my list.

You needn’t respond.

Waldo’s Thought Trough: Every penny you spend on my book “What’s What and What To Do About It” adds another penny to the nightmare of pennies.

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