January 24, 1982

The letter began ''Comrade Secretary'' and it got right to the point. ''I hereby return my party card,'' wrote Tadeusz Lomnicki, one of Poland's foremost actors, who for 30 years had been a member of the Polish Communist Party, rising in 1975 to membership in the Central Committee. ''This must be a shock to it - I cannot deny that - but I cannot do anything else. '' The letter was a cry of conscience. Mr. Lomnicki described his years in the party, his belief in the ideals of Communism and justice that he clung to through the years of Stalinism, the hopes aroused by the 1956 rise of Wladyslaw Gomulka, the ''betrayal'' of that hope in Mr. Gomulka's later years, the anti-intellectual purges of 1968, the stagnating 1970's. Then came Solidarity, and Mr. Lomnicki's faith in a ''chance for socialism in Poland'' was renewed.

Under skies of oyster gray that wept snow, sleet and rain on the whole of a dull and dreary January day, the New York metropolitan area was the scene yesterday of swirling mists and solitary strollers, of churning slush and curbside lakes and of icy roads and flooded, nearly deserted streets. Despite the soggy mess, there was a wild beauty in the city and suburban landscapes: The brush strokes of an Oriental painting lay in the mists of Central Park, with stark leafless trees in the foreground fading into ranks of fainter images, of park benches and hillocks wreathed in fog and, faraway, the shrouded facades of Manhattan's skyscrapers. It was worse elsewhere in the nation. Blizzards howled again over the Middle West, burying Minnesota's Twin Cities with 19.9 inches of new snow. Avalanches left 3,000 skiers snowbound but unhurt at a Utah resort, and freezing rain and snow snarled traffic and the travel plans of many bound for today's Super Bowl XVI in Pontiac, Mich. (Page 33.)

The Defense Department has given lie-detector tests to about 25 senior officials in an unsuccessful effort to find the source of an unauthorized disclosure of confidential information, according to Pentagon officials. The lie-detector, or polygraph, tests were begun by Deputy Secretary of Defense Frank C. Carlucci, who took the first one himself. They were given to Under Secretaries Fred C. Ikle and Richard D. De lauer; Secretary of the Navy John F. Lehman and other military serv ice secretaries; the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Gen. D avid C. Jones; other four-star generals and admirals, and several A ssistant Secretaries of Defense and their aides. The tests and other inquiries, however, have not uncovered the official or officials who gave the press an account of a policy debate in a high-level meeting at the Pentagon earlier this month. Officially, the investigation continues, but Pentagon officials said they had little hope of discovering the source of the information.

WHEN central heating first came along toward the end of the 19th century, it seemed that living patterns would never be quite the same. Instead of huddling around an open hearth, keeping doors tightly shut between rooms or even going to bed with a nightcap (the knitted kind, of course), people reveled in a newfound freedom. Even in the depths of winter they were able to move around their houses without shivering. Architects seized upon the opportunity to develop open-living plans that eventually became synonymous with the American home of the 20th century. Not necessarily so anymore. The 80's are beginning to see a return to the huddling concepts of past centuries. Consider, for instance, what some homeowners are doing for thrifty winter warmth these days: For most of the 18 years that Virginia and Alfred Wage have lived in their spacious, four-bedroom colonial-style home in Fairfield, heating was never a problem. But lately oil bills had become excessive, especially so, it seemed, since many of the rooms were rarely used now. Their three children were grown and Mrs. Wage was working full time as a nurse.

SECOND semester will dawn tomorrow at the University of Connecticut in Storrs with some budget cuts just completed and further financial wrangling with the General Assembly looming next month. Trustees and administrators of the university raised student fees, halted book purchases for the college library and announced plans to cut 220 positions while the 20,000 students were on Christmas vacation. The actions followed approval of a $50 annual increase in tuition and the elimination of 226 positions earlier in 1981. Additional cutbacks may be necessary after the General Assembly, still trying to eliminate an $83 million state deficit, considers UConn's request for $85.6 million in state aid for the 1982-83 academic year. The request is to come up early in the legislature's regular session, which begins next month. UConn raises $85 million more from tuition, grants and other sources.