Advent is upon us again, and I am in a quandary about how to organize what has been an incredibly complex year. Let's see if this works: like the proverbial candle burning at both ends, I'll start at both ends of the alphabet; if we make it to "N" without too many forced letters, we'll have been successful. In fact, since I began planning this year's letter, things have been popping at a frenetic rate. I'm going to get this over with quickly, hopefully so it will get to you before your card is sent, that you might let me know what's happening on your end.

Zip and Robin apartment-sat for me during a trip in September (see M & F). While I was away, Zip was diagnosed infectious Hepatitis positive; Robin, negative. However, upon my return, I took the standard precautions for hepatitis (Gamma Globulin & sterilizing all personal items). Luckily, it turns out, for a week after getting back from Leningrad, the U.S. Public Health Service contacted me to tell me that I might have dysentery from the water in Leningrad (Leningrad Lucy, cousin to Montezuma's revenge, Delhi belly, Cairo crud). Had the hepatitis scare not existed, I would have begun treatment a week later , lost more than the 25 pounds that left me in a week, and been debilitated more severely, as many on my trip were. Then, in November, I was again to be out of the apartment for two weeks; the male half of the apartment-sitters went to the hospital the first night with tonsillitis. The moral: apartment-sitters do so for me at their peril.

Blood harvesting for the American Red Cross has been a fun activity this year. Platelet-pheresis, a procedure whereby the platelets are extracted from the blood and all of the other components returned to the donor, is being increasingly utilized by hospitals and blood banks, internationally. Now past the 9-gallon mark (pheresis can be done weekly, at less loss than whole blood 5 times a year), I've been going in Saturdays; Jessica, enjoying the whole bit, has begun spending that time supervising the canteen at the Red Cross, where donors rest after giving. Just started work as a recruiter for the North-East region of the ARC; my primary work will be among arts-supporting organizations.

Young Prince from Sleeping Beauty, yours truly? My debut in the role came at a benefit for the Boston Ballet at Whimsey's in October. Six of the trustees of the Ballet Society were dressed in costumes to be worn at the forth-coming season of the Company. Our costumes were determined solely on the basis of what we fit into; quite a combination: the jail chaplain as the prince from Sleeping Beauty (so young that I had to sacrifice my moustache for the part), with his partner the siren from Prodigal So. The society has been going great guns soliciting financial support for the Company (hosting fun parties following the Friday-night performances, selling programs at the 10 nights of free performances this Summer on the Esplanade). The Company, now in its l4th season, has truly arrived: it's possible we'll have a sold-out season on subscriptions alone - no tickets available for individual performances. Even if this happy event arrives, however, the Company (like all performing arts groups) will still have to raise several 100,000's of $ to remain solvent. Happily, we have much fun with our various programs.

Cooperative education, my prime work at Wentworth till recently (see W), got me to Worcester this Fall for the charter meeting of the New England Association for Co-op Education. We were delighted to have a great two-day meeting, with 75 representatives from academia, the business community, and government. The great concern of people involved in co-op is that, with the concept growing logarithmically, with general acceptance from employers and academes, we maintain the integrity of the concept, providing meaningful study-related employment opportunities, not using co-op simply as a source of income for the students.

Xerox Corporation typifies the companies I've been dealing with in my efforts to find good co-op employment opportunities for the Wentworth co-ops: two visits to their headquarters, meeting with their representatives at Wentworth several times, several mailings to them have produced enthusiasm for our program, but no jobs to date. Typically, for each co-op job we land, we have to visit seven employers four times each. Thus, with my co-op enrollment tripled to 100 students this year (and a probable doubling next year), I don't have enough time to get to all the employers I should, let alone to do the extensive counseling of the students necessary to prepare them for their employment terms. Happily, Wentworth sees the problem. and is starting an experienced co-op coordinator as my assistant next week. With his help, I hope to avoid the Alice in Wonderland syndrome (the faster I run, the behinder I get).

Death, some would say, has no place in a Christmass-season letter. If, however, we take our Lord's coming to be the beginning of his victory over that grim reaper, we must acknowledge it. When I was called last Spring to be told my great aunt had died, I realized hers was the first death of a blood relative since 1946. As hers had been a happy and full life, and as she was well prepared for the next stop on her trip to eternity, we rejoiced that she had finished this phase of the trip in peace. Not so easy was the death of Dot Kingston, whose yearlong battle with cancer had been hidden from me (on her instructions) until the fight was over. Having met her when I first moved to Needham 30 years ago, she was a sort of surrogate big sister to me throughout high school and college; her husband and children are dealing with strength to restructure their lives in her absence. Finally, just last month, Jessica's maternal grandfather died in Brussels. During the two weeks Claudine spent with her mother in Brussels, I became a house-husband with Jessica in Brookline. In his characteristic fashion, the reaper took no account of earthly obligations: during these two weeks, I had dinner obligations for Brown in Providence, Boston, and New York City; 4 nights of phonothons for Brown; and the opening series of the ballet season. Jessica was incredibly responsible about the whole process, discharging all of her obligations with hardly a word from me, largely mothering me with breakfast before her 7:15 departure for school mornings, keeping the apartment neat, etc. It was a good opportunity for me to learn, no matter how responsible and self-sufficient a 13-vear-old is, the myriad details of flute & ballet lessons, baby-sittings, bouts with a cold, etc., are an unimaginable drain upon a house-parent's energy.

Wentworth has apparently been happy with how things have been going since I started there 1.5 years ago. I mentioned that they've hired an assistant for me, having promoted me to Director of Cooperative Education, as well as (get this, the titles sound formidable, but are all focusing on my general thrust, which is assisting all to attain their true potential) Director of Affirmative Action, Minority Affairs Advisor, and Title IX Equal Employment Opportunity Compliance Officer for the Institute and College. As this change has just taken place, I don't know how it's going to come down, but it certainly won't be dull. Increasingly, we're finding that employers who hesitantly took one co-op initially are coming back to us asking for multiple replacements; as with any good program, the students are our best salespeople to the employers; the faculty is finding their attendance and applications greater after co-op employment; and the students are better appreciating the significance of their studies to their careers.

England will be the first stop on my annual trip this year; as I missed visits with my English cousins and friends in 1975 due to having lost my passport in Johannesburg, I'm starting (and ending) this year's trip there. From England, I'll be off via Frankfurt and Teheran to Delhi, where I had originally planned only to go to Goa (the sound of these last 3 words was a large element in my destination choice this year: couple that with superb beaches for New Year's Day, the unique juxtaposition of a formerly Portuguese colony on the West coast of India, and the center of the world cult of S.Francis Xavier). My agent, however, discovered that there's an unlimited air use via Indian airlines within the sub-continent - at less cost than the Greyhound pass in the USA: thus, I've decided to get in as much of India as time will allow: from Delhi up to the Kashmir for a houseboat tour of the waterways of Srinagar; thence to Bombay before Goa; after New Year's, down to Trivandrum at the southern tip of India; back up via Cochin to Madras; on to Calcutta, then to Agra (where the Taj Mahal conveniently will be in full moon at my visit); over to Jaipur; last stop New Delhi. If I get through this one (when I can't even visit my parents in Needham without forgetting my wallet and camera equipment there), I'll have incontrovertible proof that Saint Christopher watches out for errant wanderers, no matter what the hierarchy decrees.

Voluntarism - a new word in the latest Merriam-Webster - is that phenomenon unique to North America of the uncoerced banding together of people to support a common cause. I've been able to lecture on the concept with a consulting group in New Jersey; to utilize it in my fund-raising work for Brown, for the Ballet, for the United Way, and for Public Action for the Performing Arts. This last group, now in its second year, is gaining increasing visibility and public support as it tries to stimulate government, industry, and the private sector to increase their support of the hundreds of performing arts groups in Massachusetts. I'll admit to being a bit concerned that the new administration in Washington is more prone to give government responsibility for handling what many of us prefer left in the private sector; only as we private individuals realize we are our brother's keeper can we prevent the government's increasing encroachment of liberty. None will deny that official need response is scandalously less effective and efficient that private help. Support voluntarism!!

Finland is one land I never thought I'd have opportunity to visit, as it's singularly inappropriate for New Year's beaching. Thus the happy surprise that, a few days before leaving for Moscow and Leningrad in September, I got a call from a Finn I met in the Canaries in '69. Though the occasion for his call was not happy - he'd lost his mate to whom I'd introduced him at that time - he was as surprised as I was joyed to tell him I'd spend 48 hours with him. When I arrived at Helsinki, he was obviously down. I told him I was sorry at his loss but wanted him to spend the 48 hours entertaining me. He did so; when I left, he had come alive again. Amazing how the big Boss provides us opportunities to help in His work if we are sensitive to His calls for action. Helsinki was a delightful contrast with the Russian experience (see M).

University work continues. The Phonothon for the Brown Fund in Boston continued my town's record of getting more pledges and $'s per worker than those in Providence or New York. The staff people tell me it's possibly because I don't let my phoners leave their desk for anything until their two hours' work is completed - try that while you're being fed, wined, and stoked with beer throughout the work. I guess the phoners, by the end of the first hour, have a note of desperation in their voice which communicates effectively with the alumni/ae. While I was recovering from dysentery in October, Brown insisted I come to a Head Class Agents' meeting in Providence, even to the point of providing housing for someone to accompany me in my weakness. Then they presented me with the annual Cup for exceptional work on behalf of Brown, - was able before breaking down to tell the group, "I started getting money for Brown when I was unable to give: all of you keep getting, even if you can give." That, I feel, is the base of my thinking about fund raising. How much more valuable are a few hours a week of fund-raising than would be the little contribution of coin of the realm I can make. Unfortunately, the big cup is mine for only a year: its little replica is for keeps. In their fund-raising wisdom, the university must recognize that the big one's capacity for a whole magnum of Champagne invites indulgence: more economical is its pintsized brother

Gala Fall Tour was the title; a weekend for the Ballet Society in New York was the event; five months of work by me as co-chairman was the catalyst; two delightful performances by the Joffrey Ballet, plus a fancy dinner at the Gotham and a champagne brunch, were the prizes; and money for the Ballet's coffers was the benefit. A rather forceful request for my funds during a night journey in the New York subway for the first time proved the prudence of Travellers Checks; Carl Malden is right - immediate replacement of all losses, with no hassle.

Trials have existed conceptually for me during these eight years in the Jai; till this year, however, I had hod no immediate experience of them. Thus my shock as I began two months of Hell last May, when the Jail administration advised me that my Chaplaincy was in extreme jeopardy; I was summoned to answer four counts, the thrust of all of them being that for the past five years, I have not been a good incumbent. Call to a lawyer (who, coincidentally, had spent his Junior summer while at Harvard Law School working at the Jail during my first year there); amassing what proved to be sufficient data to refute all of the charges; my reinstatement with no loss of status or perquisites. The whole thing could have been avoided had communication not broken down. Though the process demonstrated to me the veracity of the saw that one gets all the justice he can afford (however, what price honor and reputation), it was valuable as it gave the jail administration and me an induplicable opportunity to get to know each other and our respective objectives. It has resulted in a flourishing of my Jail work, along with a greater conviction of my vacation to my Jail parish.

Howard Johnson's Restaurant on Boylston Street was to be a moon-light employer till the end of this past June, in order that I could totally amortize some old debts. Believe it or not, however, I finally realized I'm mortal: what good being debt-free if your health is totally destroyed? Following a Sunday morning at the Jail, I was to work the evening at HoJo's. Frantic call from there: the afternoon manager didn't show. In I went, worked the afternoon and overnight shifts, to Wentworth in the morning, to the Brown phonothon in the evening, back to HoJo. By the end of that unfortunately typical rush, I didn't know where I was, decided forthwith to give up the 35 hours per week at HoJo (remember it was to have been only 20). Within days, however, all of those free hours were filled with one or another activity. I am learning, however to say "NO" to new requests for assistance. Better to do a bit well than a lot poorly.

Senior actors cause a slight retraction of the last comment: a group of retired amateur and professional thespians organized this past year under the title, "The New Wrinkle''. They are performing already in greater Boston; seeing such a group of joyful, occupied people I'd have no right to refuse them a bit of my time in fund-raising guidance. They truly rejuvenate me.

India, as I've already mentioned, is my destination this Winter. I recently heard of a little-publicized program of our Commerce Department. In order to assist the less developed countries in their pursuit of economic health, no customs limitation or duties exist for travellers from the USA who bring back native-made objects. So Sari!, and brasses and cottons, etc. Looks like it will he a shopper's paradise, as well as a photographer's Nirvana, a gourmet's titillation, and a philosopher's laboratory.

Reunions, many feel, are a machine of the Devil for making participants aware of the passage of time. Though this indeed occurred at my 20th Needham High School reunion in April, it was a thrill to get back to many people I hadn't seen for 20 years. Especially fun was, in the wee hours of the morning, showing the slides I had taken of classmates at our Commencement so many years ago. Truly, the more things change, the more they seem to remain the same.

Jessica, as I noted above, has been impressing and gratifying me with her progressing maturation. Like all adults, however, I tend to forget my experiences as an emerging adolescent: recently, taking Jessica to the subway, I asked the attendant if I could accompany her to the platform; she was perhaps properly indignant that I wasn't recognizing her capacity to travel alone. Now that people consider her mature enough to be left in overnight charge of their minor children, her parents have to give her the flexibility to exist autonomously. She has been happy to transfer from one "modern" Brookline school to a more traditional one, where she is being better prepared for the rigors of high school next year. She had a great time hosting her Belgian cousin's first trip to the States in the Summer.

Quickly (that's stretching) now, for I'm behind schedule. Due shortly at B.U.Grad.School of Dentistry, where the craftsmen are in process of removing all of my fillings and replacing them. The one advantage here is that they are doing it all with hypnosis, so it's a rare opportunity for me to relax. Further, with my mouth immobilized, even that action-center is stilled.

Kodak has certainly profited from my peregrinations: between New Orleans, Moscow, Helsinki, Leningrad, and Newport (where I spent a gourmet's Thanksgiving with a seminary-mate, just transferred to the Navy Chaplain's School there from San Diego), my cameras have been faithful recorders of memorable sights. Been having a field day lately with a wide angle lens; that, along with the standard and zoom lenses, provide a lazy man's respite from having to move about to get just the right view. When in Moscow, I was apparently spotted by Intourist taking forbidden photos at the airport, of waterways, etc. (really, now!), for when I returned to Boston my camera shop said my equipment had obviously been deliberately damaged. It's all in order now, ready to record the sub-continent.

Pan American World Airways continues to be a special friend to me: when Wentworth's provost was unable to get booked for an urgent flight to Shiraz, Iran, through his agent, I called my friends there: he was on his flight post-haste. When Claudine had to get to Brussels for her unhappy mission, they streamlined everything. When I couldn't get booked at the TajMahal InterContinental in Bombay through normal channels, Pan Am saw to it (after all, they own the place). Spent a day at the PanAm Building in New York, working out potential co-op employment of Wentworth people at the JFK maintenance facility, when I happened to be in New York for a Brown function (that's synergism). This Christmass will be my tenth spent aboard PanAm: I'm not even a stockholder!

Last Winter (seems a decade ago) was my exciting introduction to Central America, specifically Costa Rica. Centered in San Jose, had revealing trips to my first active volcano, to Punta Arenas on the Pacific (by bus), and to Puerto Limon on the Atlantic (by 7-hour train going, 1/4-hour flight returning from Columbus's last land-fall). These proud Latinos have no anti-Grino sentiments; possibly the infusion of Vesco's millions have helped.

Ordination to the Priesthood appears near: Bishop Coburn, Massachusetts' new Diocesan, is taking my petition to the Standing Committee. As the Jail situation has resolved happily, priest-ing will be an invaluable support of my work there. We'll just have to wait on the Holy Spirit for decision about this step on my 18-year odyssey with Holy Orders.

Moscow and Leningrad were the destinations of a Wentworth Alumni group tour I had the pleasure of accompanying in September. Till the trip, I hadn't realized how totally different the Russian system is from ours; nor had I known that only 5% of the people are allowed to be members of the ruling party. Somehow, the Russkies knew I am a cleric: my fellow-travellers had to wait an hour at the incoming airport while the vopos gave me a physical exam more thorough than any MD had done, all to make certain I was carrying no religious propaganda; we were almost totally prevented from contact with the natives by Intourist (fear of contamination?). The greatest tragedy was touring all of the glorious Russian Orthodox cathedrals, now reduced to museums. I'm convinced no detente with the West will change the USSR: only an internal uprising will be able to overthrow this totally controlled society. Please pray for the Russian people.

New Orleans was the site of this year's international Cooperative Education convention. What a delightfully unique city! Combining the flavor of old France with the verve of a modern cosmopolitan society with the genteel grace of the deep South, the city was a most gracious host to the convention. Good/bad is the 24-hour life there: no frantic closing-hour syndrome: but nor any capacity to get sleep. Couple that with the opportunity to see how co-op is going everywhere else (obviously, nowhere better than at Wentworth), and you can see that I'm ending this letter on a most happy note. WE MADE IT! Thanks be that the alphabet has only 26 letters. Now, let's have your news. May we all have a blessed Christmass and enriching New Year.