We once again present the annual Noble Prizes. As ever, a few caveats. First, these are not to be confused with the Nobel Prizes, awarded annually for literature nobody reads, science nobody understands and peace that never sustains.

No, the Noble Prizes are an arbitrary invention of your correspondent, sole juror and judge. He dispenses the awards with a fiat worthy of a monarch. Solicitations and nominations are welcome, the fix is always in, and bribes, while so far absent from the proceedings, would deeply offend a man such as I, a size 42 regular who prefers single malt scotch and could use a few silk ties.

Herewith, the 2004 winners, people who have, by their generosity, be it of money, time or spirit, shown a nobility of soul and made the world a better place to reside.

Politics: I last saw Jonathan Robison at an anti-war rally. Or was it at a John Kerry rally? Or, quite possibly, it was a transit funding rally. He did not choose to go the rich lawyer route, although he is a lawyer and a competent one. Robison has dedicated much of his life, instead, to demanding justice, fighting for peace and, in general, raising merry hell.

Many of his ideas I do not subscribe to. But his spirit is hard to decline. Hit with multiple sclerosis in his middle years, Robison has nonetheless kept himself a public man, a mischievous smile affixed to his face and his gaze always focused on the next fight, be it for an end to war or an end to poverty. He was in a wheelchair on the occasion of the anti-war rally. The United States was about to bomb Iraq, and Robison got himself over to me and said, "I wanted to be able to tell my grandchildren I was here." I hope he has many grandchildren and gets to tell each one, in detail.

Social Services: Susan Shahade and I were in the same chemistry class in high school 33 years ago. On such occasions as we were not attempting to poison each other, we generally limited ourselves to hurling insults. I know we didn't learn any chemistry. Two people so unsuited to the world of chemistry were bound to struggle. I chose writing. Susan, on the other hand, made herself useful. She founded and administers the Women's Help Center in Johnstown.

The years have not always been kind to our hometown, and some of its residents have been even less kind to their daughters, girlfriends and wives. On one visit, Susan -- after making certain her charges were safe, fed and housed -- took me on a tour and showed me a poster of a casket covered in mums. "She only got flowers once," Susan said.

The center exists on donations and I plan to make one. Here's your chance: The Women's Help Center, 809 Napoleon St., Johnstown, PA 15901. (Yes, it's tax-deductible, you cheapos.)

Writing: Every time I have a conversation with Michael McGough I am left to wonder how a man can channel both Thomas Jefferson and Baruch Spinoza.

As an editor, he was one of those most responsible for bringing me to the Post-Gazette. He wanted ideas on his pages and was gracious enough to help me form a few and talented enough to put them into readable form. Mike gave up the editorship of the opinion pages this year and moved to Washington, where he now reports on the Supreme Court and writes a weekly, and much better informed, column on law, Constitution and governance.

It is gratifying to see a man who has spent so much time and effort encouraging others to write now with the time he needs to do some important work of his own. It is gratifying to me as a colleague and, even more so, as a reader.

Family Values: No one can stand in the presence of Mike and Lisa Katz and not want to perform a miracle. Frankly, that's all they're asking. Their daughter, Amy, has a form of leukemia that requires a bone marrow transplant. Finding a perfect match for a little girl of European Jewish ancestry is difficult. Anyone with a memory would understand why there are not as many European Jews as we once had.

The Katzes and their equally heroic friend, Kate Rosenthal, have put together a series of drives that have, to date, tested thousands of people and found 15 matches for other people. Instead of complaining, Amy's Army celebrates the miracles they have engineered for others. Amy gets another shot at her own miracle Sunday, Jan. 2, at the Pittsburgh Marriott City Center. A combination blood drive and testing takes place from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Imagine it: I'm telling someone to join the army.