Frankly, the new “sizzling” TV season (PEOPLE, Sept. 5) has all the earmarks of a “fizzling” season as far as I’m concerned. I have not watched commercial TV (except for Wiseguy) since long before the writers’ strike, and I see no reason to change. Not when we get to see another example of self-indulgent egomania with the return of Mary Tyler Moore and Dick Van Dyke, albeit in separate shows. Can they honestly believe that the TV audience is waiting breathlessly for them to try and recapture the once-in-a-lifetime magic of their youth? Thank God for cable.
Barbara Z. Nelson
As the great-great-granddaughter of Mary Beatrice Rourke, great-granddaughter of Mary Beatrice Powers, granddaughter of Beatrice Marie Early and daughter of Elizabeth Beatrice Marie Holme, I take umbrage with the editor of Debrett’s Peerage that it would be difficult to find anyone under 50 with the name Beatrice. I’m under 50, and in our family we have always been proud of our beautiful name.
Beatrice Marie T. Juliano
I’m surprised that the British are surprised by the choice of the name Beatrice for the young Princess of York. Beatrice was the name of Queen Victoria’s last child. Princess Beatrice married Prince Henry of Battenberg (Prince Philip’s great-uncle) and became the mother of Queen Victoria Eugenie of Spain, the grandmother of the present king, Juan Carlos. Now the name has come back to Britain. Congratulations to this century’s Princess Bea.
Rene J. Gonzalez
It really annoys me that some people would call the name Beatrice an “ugly” and “archaic” name. I say to the people who would ridicule the name, at least the Yorks didn’t name her Bertha.
Bertha Beatrice Peddicord
Fort Leavenworth, Kans.
Last summer my 2-year-old inadvertently ate some unwashed grapes on the way home from the grocery store. Within minutes she had welts and blisters on her hands and around her mouth, which I believe were a reaction to the chemicals on the grapes. I applaud the efforts of Cesar Chavez to bring attention to this problem. If my child was affected from just handling grapes already at market, imagine the consequences for the field workers.
Leslie M. Jaqua
I was moved to tears of happiness by the reunion story of Jean Strauss and her biological mother, Lenore Love. I, too, was given up for adoption at birth. At 25 I wrote a letter to my “mother” and sent it to her mother’s address in Canada. She forwarded it, and three weeks later, in 1978, I received her reply. Her first words were, “I always knew you’d look for me.” I was her only child. Although I have strong feelings for her, I love my adoptive mother with all my heart. And my late adoptive father was the best dad anyone could have wished for.
Mary Backer Davis
Your article about Jean Strauss brings adoptees across the nation hope. It’s a shame our system feels that our identity must be hidden from us. All we want is peace within.
Charlotte A. Walters
Reading about Jean Strauss and her birth mother made me remember the best day of my life—when I met my 17-year-old son, Patrick, for the first time since I gave him up for adoption. The difference in our story is that Patrick’s adoptive parents were the ones who searched for me, as a gift to him, since he always wanted to find me. They are, needless to say, an exceptional couple. They loved him enough to allow me to come back into his life. And do you know what they got for their efforts? A son who loves them more than ever and my eternal gratitude, loyalty and friendship. When things work out this well, how could it possibly be wrong? I only wish more birth mothers could know the joy Patrick and his family have given me.
Judy C. Allen
Salt Lake City
I agree with Grace Randall, who would like to get the carriage horses off the streets of Manhattan. The powers-that-be keep insisting that the horse-drawn carriage is a traditional symbol of our city. How sad that now, along with everything else, we have to be known for our inhumane treatment of animals.
Port Washington, N.Y.
Picks & Pans
I could not have agreed more with Jeff Jarvis’ review of Live with Regis & Kathie Lee if I had written it myself. Regis does grow on you, but Kathie Lee, never. Perhaps my favorite moment was when she was having her broken fingernail repaired as her husband, Frank Gifford, looked adoringly on. I could barely swallow my raisin bran.
I totally disagree with Jeff Jarvis’ opinion of Kathie Lee Gifford. I find her enlightening and enjoyable to watch. She adds humor to even the most boring segments. She may be sweet, but she doesn’t leave a cavity in this mouth. I’m sure the rest of the country will agree.