We might, as the beginning of the Advent season reminds us, be on the road to eternity; however, the press of events keeps us constantly aware that our roadway is inextricably located in time and space - both of which seem to run out before we finish our tasks. With that in mind, I'll get this letter off to you, hopefully in time for your response to be added to your Christmass greeting.
Each year, as I begin this letter, I read over past ones, looking for the rhythm of the annual process. This year now concluding appears to have been the most positive yet: no air crashes, no insuperable crises in employment or living situations, no health problems. I guess the point has been reached where new challenges have sufficient precedent to lend security in addressing future uncertainties.
All the same, as the pages that follow will make clear, the year hasn't been dull. In fact, each succeeding year brings so much to me, that I have no understanding of those who pine for "the good old days".
I was introduced this year to the symbolic representation of the basis for my future-aimed orientation: The Chinese symbol for crisis has two parts - the lower part is the sign for disaster and the upper, the symbol of opportunity. So many of my crises have pushed me to seek out creative resolutions, that the advent of a new crisis excites me with the coming developments.
As I start this letter, I wish you the joy, hope, and peace so perfectly begun in the Christ event.
A week before Christmass last year, had opportunity to lead my first session on suicide detection and intervention for custodial officers in training at the State's criminal justice training academy. As many of the officers in the class had several years' experience in jails before the session, the dialogue during the session was as educational to me as to the officers. It's encouraging to note that all officers in training are now required to have a session on suicide during the course.
After a few weeks into Christmass vacation at home, Jessica and I saw her mother off to a holiday trip to Greece. Reflecting her continuing maturation, Jessica was off on her own to her aunt's in Pennsylvania for the duration of her vacation, following a time with me in Boston, which ended with midnight Mass on Christmass eve. I was really fortunate that she was with me, as I had gone back to the jail after Mass and was so exhausted that I slept through my alarm in the morning. Had Jessica not woken me, I'd have slept through my departure for New York.
Not to fear: Jessica got me up just in time for me to make a mad dash to Logan. Thence to JFK, on to a 14-hour direct flight to Tokyo. Longest flight I'd yet taken: 4 feature movies and five meals to pass the time. Never did go through 5:30 pm on Christmass day - the anniversary of my plane mishap over the Bermuda Triangle a year before - as we crossed the date line, it was early Tuesday morning before Monday ended (?).
Thence to the bustle of Tokyo. I now understand why the Japanese act so well in unison: the land is so crowded - not a square inch goes unutilized - that it would be impossible for the people to live together, did they not live harmoniously. The highlights of Japan were visits to Buddhist and Shinto shrines, a three-hour tea ceremony, and an excursion up to Nikko, the ancestral home of the Japanese imperial family.
Was somewhat confused, waking on the morning or the 28th, to hear on the English-language news, that on the 26th over the Bermuda Triangle, there had been a mishap identical to mine a year and a day earlier, at the same time in the afternoon, on the same airline's flight. The Triangle stories might be coincidental; I'll not attempt to prove them a myth.
My reception in Hong Kong had to be the most elegant I've yet experienced: met at the airport by a Rolls Royce from the Peninsula Hotel. Then began a few of the most contrast-filled days: service without parallel at the hotel in Kowloon; frequent trips over to Victoria Peak on Hong Kong island itself (the ferry was 3¢ tourist class; I splurged on occasion for first-class accommodations at 5¢); visits with the Samaritans or Hong Kong; a day via hydrofoil down to Portuguese Macao, where the casinos got only $2 of my money, and where the Red Chinese guards at the border were most cordial, as we had just renewed relationship with them. New Year's eve was spent - in part - aboard a Greek freighter in the harbor, accompanied by revellers from France, the Netherlands, Germany, and diverse other origins. Before that, the New Year had been bagpiped in by authentically Scottish-costumed Chinese, piping Auld Lang Syne. No better a presentation of the juxtaposition of the Orient with the West which so characterizes Hong Kong. Back at the hotel late the morning of the 1st, I recognized that I'd never awaken if I tried to sleep before my flight to Singapore: thus, off to the airport, there to sleep and write postal cards while waiting for the flight down to Singapore.
Fortunate I tape my travel notes and take countless slides, for I found us touching down in Singapore, without remembering the departure from H-K. There, off to an excursion to Jahore Bahru in Malaysia, visit to a rubber plantation, time with the Samaritans of Singapore (whose volunteers have to have 12 languages between them), looking in on the most fantastic Buddhist shrines, foraging through the native markets, sampling the stink-fruit which smells so bad that it's not allowed in the hotels but which tastes like ambrosia once peeled.
Thence via 8-hour train through the rubber plantations and tin manufactories of Malaysia to Kuala Lumpur, a Capital trying to replace years of colonial identity with discovery of its own heritage and future. At K-L also, visited with the local Samaritans. This trip has shown me the source of the Samaritan success: though cultures may differ, and though there may be local characteristics which are alien, the principle of equal-level active listening to the despairing and suicidal callers and visitors is constant throughout the world. The warm welcome I received from Samaritan colleagues throughout the trip made me feel quite at home.
On up to Bangkok via Thai Air - service aboard was the best in-flight I've experienced, a harbinger of the absolutely gracious welcome I received from the many Thais I met - both in Bangkok and later in Chiang Mai, way up to the north, on the Burma border, where the golden triangle is the source of most of the world's opium/heroin. Learned that our government is attempting to get the opium farmers to convert to the cultivation of other crops, which would be more lucrative to the farmers, and less contributive to international crime. Thailand, the only far eastern country never to have been under the aegis of a western power, was a land replete with temples, with delicately graceful tribal dancers, with a canal system around Bangkok that one travels by boat to visit the market-places, all merchants afloat on their seemingly precarious ware-boats. While on the latter tour, in fact, I had the only leg of my journey on motorcycle: I had become separated from my tour coach: a Thai graciously offered to help me find it. Off we went, at incredible speed, for a 20-mile game of tag with every tour coach we spotted. Finally reached mine at a cobra farm, where I thought the expert wrestling with a cobra to be less at risk than I had been on the motorcycle.
Was glad to learn when we departed Bangkok for Delhi and onward to Istanbul, that the scheduled flight change at Teheran had been scrubbed, as the troubles in Iran were even then escalating. Arriving in Istanbul, however, another Yank tourist and I found that our luggage wasn't at the terminal; back out to the tarmac, where we saw our plane a mile away. We commandeered a service vehicle, sped to the plane - no luggage there. Over to a plane loading for Teheran. Seeing our bags in the hold, we parked in front of the 747 (such cheek), vowing to remain till our bags joined us. Success. Then on into the city for touring to the Blue Mosque, savoring Turkish cuisine, gazing from the hotel toward the straits of Bosphorus, where Europe and Asia meet, wandering the streets with vivid recollection of the Yank tourist who had run afoul of Turkish justice, as portrayed in Midnight Express.
Now being rather weary, I vowed to catch up on my sleep upon arrival in Belgrade, went down to the lounge for a single beer in the early evening before retiring, got to talking with some Yugoslavian natives, one of them recently returned from South Africa. Found myself still sharing tales with them at four in the morning, agreeing to go to the latter's son's birthday party that day, being whisked off to his car for a journey to his home half way to Zagreb (what about sleep?). Returning to Belgrade after a delightful day with his wife and family, my host informed me that the heavy suitcase that had accompanied us to Zlavotni Brod was full of firearms (thus explaining his three passports and international travel). By way of thanks, he invited me to a clandestine Serbian New Year's party (Julian calendar, folks) that evening. Thence to an unique evening, much with Gypsy music, dancing, food, and wine. As I was the only non-Serb present, I was named the New Year's boy, my principal duty to be a kiss for each or the 100 ladies present. By the end of the evening, I found myself singing along with the lustiest; the resultant tape recording is my most treasured souvenir of the trip.
Except for my temporary detention by a security guard as my train pulled out of Belgrade bound for Budapest (seems my photographing of certain buildings was highly irregular) - only ended when I showed my Sheriff's Department I.D. and the guard hugged me with the greeting, "Sheriff McCloud, Kamarade!" - I got a few blissful hours of sleep on the train. Right on the Danube separating Buda from Pest, my hotel was ideally situated for checking out the Roman ruins of the city, for walking the streets which had been splattered with the blood of the Hungarian Revolution (no native able to recall that event when I queried them about it).
Finally, after transfer at Frankfurt - only fifteen minutes to reach the PanAm flight, as we were an hour late arriving, amazing that my luggage made it to New York with me - onto the final flight across the Atlantic, arriving back in Boston in time for the annual Samaritan workshop, where Monica Dickens and I were able to compare our just ended visits to diverse Samaritan branches in distant lands. Now, into the third year at the LIFELINE program at the jail, the Samaritan volunteers continue their loyal weekly presence at the meetings with the inmate LIFELINE members. Such constant and active support and participation by the Samaritans is in large measure responsible for our continuing success. The inmates, noting that the Samaritans are there only because they care, take their work the more seriously. Further, when the Samaritan queries an inmate about a particular bit of jargon the cons might use, the inmate is delighted to share his expertise with the novices from outside the walls.
The new Samaritan center in Boston, in a location designed expressly for its work, has made it more comfortable and convenient to respond to the ever-increasing number of callers. The Sam's were very active in the recent United Way campaign, giving talks to a great number of outside organizations about the work of this unique United Way agency.
Got rather busily involved in a periodic government audit of Wentworth Institute's equal opportunity/affirmative action activities, as I was the AA officer at the institute, as well as the financial aid officer there. Although Wentworth was found to be in compliance with the government's eo/aa mandate, it was determined that we could better achieve our objectives if the function became the primary activity of one of our people. I was thus relieved of that function, and am now concentrating my efforts at the institute on financial aid. With financial aid at Wentworth increasing over the past three years (from $.8 million, to l.5, to 2.4 last year, and to $4 million this year, there's quite enough to do in that area alone. In fact, we were surprised to note that the various forms of financial aid facilitated to the students now accounts for over half or the money due in student tuition and housing. We've now reached the point that no student with demonstrated need will be denied a Wentworth education solely due to the lack or funds. Although the secretary who had worked so loyally with me during the first two years I was in the office left in despair at the tremendous increase in work, it looks like things are getting better: she was replaced with a secretary and a new assistant financial aid officer; we are being assisted by three work/study students. A word to those of you facing higher education expenses: don't assume you won't quality for aid and therefore not apply. A great number or people who could qualify receive no aid because they assume none would be available. As I tell my students and their parents: do apply each year; you can't get less than 0.
With the advent of a new acting Rector at the Parish of the Advent in Beacon Hill, I've gotten back to serving as Deacon at the early Sunday morning Mass each week, followed by the rest of Sunday in the jail. In fact, daily jail presence has become such a habit with me that, when I take an occasional day off, my inmates or the staff ask me whether I've been on vacation. Though the jail is a temporary, primarily pre-trial facility, so many of our inmates (85%) keep returning, that after 11 years the family there is quite constant. we're seeing a significant change in the nature of our detainees: increasingly, an 18-22 year-old man arrives on one charge or another, almost invariably substance (alcohol or drug) abusee-related. They had begun drugs at 10-15 years of age, never faced the rigors of adoption to mature behavior, finally getting into serious adult difficulty. They are children in adults' bodies.
This June, reached something of an apogee in my work with the LIFELINE group at the jail: was invited to present a paper on "An In-house Program to Assist Despairing/ Suicidal Inmates/Institutlonal Residents" to the 10th International Congress on Suicide Prevention and Crisis Intervention at Ottawa, Canada. Went up to Ottawa with several Samaritans and with one of the former inmate members of LIFELINE. Our thesis is that, if the program at the jail was able to attain its success and viability, why not a similar program in any institutional community (college, military base, long-term hospital), provided it has the active participation of a Samaritan-type organization? It was a great pleasure to share with 700 people from around the world our common concerns, and to profit from their diverse experiences. I'm hoping, if time and opportunity present themselves, to do a follow-up paper at IASP's next Congress, in Paris in 1981, on what has become of the over 75 men who served as inmate LIFELINE volunteers since our beginning. Our thesis there will be that, no matter what a man's criminal history after leaving the program, it is unlikely that he will commit crimes of violence against people after he has begun seeking out and befriending his despairing fellow-inmate.
Tell me time doesn't fly: classmates and I are now preparing for our 20th reunion at Brown University next June. As head class agent, I'm setting a rather ambitious, but informed, goal of a reunion gift of $1/4 million. By these efforts, I and my associates are attempting to pay back some of the great start Brown gave us on our careers, and to protect part of the Nation's vital private university system from soaring costs.
On the way up to the Ottawa Congress in June, Chad Varah (who founded the Samaritans in London 26 years ago), and several of his Samaritan colleagues from Britain participated in a LIFELINE meeting at the jail in Boston. When I asked Chad at the end of the meeting if my inmate volunteers were doing what he intended the Samaritan volunteers do, he replied that the inmates, who were society's outcasts, who had nothing to give, who were in great legal crisis themselves, were the ultimate vindication or the principle of equal-level befriending which motivates the Samaritans. These inmates are saving lives: they, of modest education or professional accomplishment, are reaching out and helping. No small accolade for my guys. that
My luck: of all places for the national association of financial aid officers to have its annual meeting, they met in Boston this Summer. Such meetings are the most valuable to me, not so much in their formal sessions, as in the chance one has to compare experiences, problems, frustrations, and ideas with peers in the same function at universities throughout the States. Hopefully I'll get to our next Summer's meeting, in Denver.
Took a weekend at Newport during the summer, to show this special town to a visitor I'd met in Sydney 6 years ago. The Australian was as delighted as I to see exciting performance by a Young inner-city dance group from New York. The creator of the group had been successful in her efforts to dispel the notion that ballet is a sissy's activity. These kids performed with an enthusiasm and vigor matching that of the established companies. They couldn't quite match, however, the Boston Ballet's production this Fall of Carmina Burana, perhaps the most awesome production I've ever witnessed, by our Company or any other.
Now that I'm an experienced veteran (of three years) in financial aid work, I've had opportunity to speak at various students' and guidance counselors' meetings about the intricacies of financial aid. Though the Federal Register isn't the most exciting reading available, it's an absolute must for financial aid officers, as significant federal legislation is coming out constantly about changes in the financial aid delivery system. Last year's expert, if he doesn't keep constantly abreast of developments, is this year's anachronism,
John Sears, who as Sheriff 11 years ago had appointed me Chaplain, invited me to participate at a meeting of people concerned with the international treatment of prisoners. The 100 participants, from every political background, met at Boston College recently. As I became recorder for the session on an international code for treatment of prisoners, the collected recommendations of the group which were prepared for consideration by the United Nations Secretariat were not widely at variance from my personal views.
When Jessica was home from school for the Thanksgiving weekend, I was proud to see how she has accepted what I'm constantly telling my inmates: the world isn't a fair place, but it's reality. She has been applying herself with much more vigor than in the past to studies she finds arduous or downright boring. Measurements have reflected this increased effort. Now that her mother has relocated to a community where there are more exciting peers available to Jessica, her visits home occur with greater enthusiasm. Mum brought 14 of the family together for Thanksgiving; getting the whole busy clan together was no small accomplishment. It was a great pleasure to catch up on the latest news from the whole brood.
Last winter, up at Chiang Mai, I got to talking with a retired Australian school teacher about her recently-completed trekking in the Himalayas of Nepal. This piqued my curiosity; a Nepalese student at Wentworth further encouraged me. Thus, this winter, alter Boxing day with relatives and Samaritans in London, I hope to reach Kathmandu, thence up (by elephant and Land Rover, my agent tells me) to exciting treks in the mountains and at Tiger Tops; after that, down to Singapore (more Sam's), onto a cruise around Indonesia, onto the beach at Bali, up to Hong Kong (more Sam's), over to San Francisco for a few days with friends, and finally back to Boston. I hope then - if not before - to hear your news. It would be great to hear your year has been as beneficial to you as mine, to me. Whatever, I trust this letter finds you happy and in health, looking forward to the challenges and opportunities of the New Year. Don't forget: Crisis = disaster/ opportunity.