This may sound strange to you, but bear with me, please. Back in the spring we sent out nearly 35,000 pieces of mail, most of them addressed to persons who do not subscribe to this magazine. We told folks we would send them a packet of seeds which would produce lovely flowers right in their yards if they would fill out a little survey and return it to us. We wanted to find out who was not reading THE LIVING CHURCH. The idea behind this is so simple that even I could figure it out. If we can find out just what it is that makes people not want to subscribe, perhaps we can do something to attract them as readers.

The non-subscribers, and a few who do receive the magazine, were asked to tell us their age bracket, their level of education, and their job status (clergy, medical, retired, etc.) among other information. They were given an opportunity to tell us what they liked to read about, and they also could explain to us why they don't subscribe to TLC. Some affixed their names and addresses; most didn't. Some said nasty things about the magazine; a few said (gasp) uncharitable things about me. All that for a packet of seeds.

We received more than 1,000 replies, which is quite good for a survey of some 35,000. You'd be amazed at the variety of excuses we received. A non-reader in Michigan said "gardening, flower beds, yard work and home maintenance" were preventing him or her from subscribing. Lots of folks said they read hand-me-down copies from someone else. A common response was they had too much to read. A few said they would subscribe if TLC weren't so liberal. Some said they'd sign up if it weren't so conservative. Others said it arrived too frequently. But the most frequent response was that it cost too much (our subscription price has remained the same since 1991).

This is probably where you're expecting me to launch into an announcement that TLC is about to begin its most heavily discounted subscription offer in its 121-year history. Sorry. It's not about to happen. At least not now. Operators are not standing by.

Some other findings: A whopping 82 percent said they enjoyed reading the news of the Episcopal Church. Some 30 percent said they spend eight or more hours per week reading. In addition, 45 percent of the respondents had a master's degree (18 percent a doctorate) and 36 percent of those who responded were clergy. More than half of those who completed the survey were over age 50.

If you're one of those persons who completed the survey, please accept my thanks. I hope that by now the seeds have produced stunning flowers.

The Rt. Rev. David C. Bane, the still fairly new Bishop of Southern Virginia, is the host of informal gatherings which have come to be known affectionately as "David's Pajama Parties."

When he realized diocesan clergy knew each other "by name and face," but not as individuals, he began a series of meetings he called "Noon to Noon With the Bishop." The bishop and his wife, Alice, invite up to 12 clergy for these 24-hour informal sessions, which have no agenda. They share "stories of our lives with each other," Mrs. Bane prepares a gourmet dinner (he cooks the main course on the grill), "we just hang out with each other," and later watch a movie. The next morning, following coffee and doughnuts, they talk about their congregations, then wind up with the Eucharist and lunch.

In his diocesan paper, The Jamestown Cross, Bishop Bane writes, "We all feel more connected and less lonely" as a result of the gatherings, and that "David's Pajama Parties" will continue to be offered as long as the clergy are willing to be present.

David Kalvelage, executive editor