While living in Bangkok I was tapped several times to serve as escort officer for various celebrities who were in the country on USO tours. In 1969 I was contacted to meet and escort in country a visiting artist by the name of Irena Wiley. She was on a "handshake" tour which means she would visit enlisted and officers' clubs and hospitals. She would sit and visit with them while doing a sketch of them. I had a small amount of information about her, but as I was to discover I was about to become acquainted with one of the most extraordinary people I have ever met.
Irena was whippet thin and wore baggy legged trousers with a safari style jacket and a scarf. She was a smoker and her cigarettes of choice were fat, non-filtered Columbian ones. She reminded me very much of Katherine Hepburn. When she spoke with you she was very intent and interested in you. She had a charming European accent and spoke in a throaty and husky voice. As our tour commenced I began to realize that this was an important personage. One morning she told me that, although she had wanted to rest, the American ambassador and his wife had whisked her off to the embassy for a visit. As we were flying in to one of the Air Force Bases she casually dropped the fact she was a friend of the commanding officer. We were met with great fanfare. Let me tell you about this remarkable woman. Some of these stories she told me herself and others I managed to piece together through research and reading her book.
She was born in Lodz, Poland, in 1906, and was there when Warsaw fell. She studied art in Warsaw, Vienna and London and, although a fine artist, she considered herself a sculptress. While in France she met and married an American diplomat, John Wiley, in Toulon. From there her life became an adventure. From 1934 and 1936 Wiley was the Consul General in the US Embassy in Moscow. In 1936 she made her first visit to the United States and Wiley was named as Consul General to Belgium where he served for one year. From there he went to Vienna and was there when Nazi Germany took it over. He closed the embassy there and they both helped many Jews escape the country. In fact, they were responsible for getting Sigmund Freud out of the country. Irena was there when the Nazi's ransacked Freud's apartment and were able to get him on a train out the country.
In 1939 she became a US citizen and was sworn in by Franklin D. Roosevelt himself.
Wiley's next assignment was Latvia and Estonia and they were there when those countries were taken over by Russia. In 1939 the young John F. Kennedy visited them in Estonia. She had been commissioned to do an altarpiece by the Vatican and she used Kennedy as a model for one of the angels on the piece. They were there when these countries were overwhelmed and had to escape in 1940 via the famed Trans-Siberian Express. En route she meets the famed author, Teilhard de Chardin who entrusted her with his manuscript of The Phenomenon of Man to carry to the US.
During the war they remained in Washington D.C. While there she did a portrait of Roosevelt which now hangs in Hyde Park, NY. After the war Wiley serves as ambassador to Columbia, Lisbon, Tehran and Panama. He retired in 1954 and died in 1967.
While in Tehran they became friendly with the Shah. It was during that period of time when he had divorced his first wife because she could not provide an heir. He jokingly told her one evening for her to find him a wife. She took him seriously and learned of a great beauty who lived in northern Persia (Iran). She told him of her and he checked it out. This beauty turned out to be Soraya Bahktiari and he married her. The marriage did not end well because there was no heir forthcoming. He did eventually find one who could fulfill the need. Irena told me this story herself. She said that Soraya was a great disappointment and not a very nice person and regretted that she had set it up. On a side note, I saw Soraya once in Bangkok. She was on a visit to visit the Queen and was checking in at one of the posh hotels. She actually made her entrance with two Afghan hounds and, quite frankly, was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.
She did a sketch of me and as she was doing it said that I reminded her of a young Polish patriot who was killed when Warsaw fail. I was smitten.
Irena was great with the troops. She was a wonderful conversationalist and they received her very well. Diane got to know her as well. We took her to dinner a couple of times and we were enchanted with her. She was very down to earth and certainly did not put on any airs.
She did 3 different USO tours and died in 1972 in Washington D.C. I count myself extremely fortunate to have met and known this extraordinary individual.
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
Monday, March 7, 2016
The Indian On The Rock
Apologies in advance. This post is introspective and even a little self serving. However, isn't that one of the purposes in doing a blog? It's going to deal with that little creative "tickle" that resides in all of us. It is especially prevalent in anyone who has had experience in the creative arts. Bear with me and let me try to explain this phenomenon.
My high school years were not the high point of my life. There were moments in which I began to realize that perhaps the path I was following was not quite in step with my classmates. I enjoyed the years, but there was always that thought that there was something more. I managed to channel myself through activities with the band, writing and dreaming. I was certainly never a part of the "in" crowd by virtue of the fact that I was an athletic klutz, played the tuba and was not born to small town royalty. I became interested in theatre and soon I realized that I would never be cast because of these facts. I lost a role in a one act play because I wore glasses! The role went to one of the football players, of course. Sour grapes? Not really, but it chapped my butt! I used my books, went to the movies, listened to music and finished a rather unimpressive high school career. I will say that I was in the Senior play. I played the butler…in blackface! Oh, well…..
When I arrived at college my world exploded! I found many others who shared my tastes and I relished being in a creative camaraderie. Band was wonderful and soon I gravitated over to the theatre department. My drama parents, Bill and Margaret Moore, taught and guided me and I evolved. I was a late creative bloomer, but there it was! I even met Diane in the theatre department and we played husband and wife in the chorus of The Music Man.
After graduation I taught theatre to a group of uber talented students in White Deer, Texas, and even coached them to a State champion win in one act play. My creative juices were running out my ears! Even when I went into the Army I worked with little theatre groups on the posts and bases. We went to Bangkok where I was the Special Services officer and we worked with a tremendous theatre group in an American university. Diane and I co-directed a royal command performance of The Fantasticks and a wonderful production of Lion in Winter.
After my years in the Army we returned to El Paso and I taught theatre at two wonderful high schools and had a great time. Creative tickle still being served. I eventually went into counseling and scratched the itch through creative work through our church. We did shows, sang wonderful pieces and enjoyed the whole process.
The girls grew up and entered in the world of the Arts. Both of them were tremendous singers and were great on stage. We were delighted and I channeled my "tickle" through them. Life was good!
Then….
The girls moved on.
Diane died.
I have been thinking of moments. Moments when all things magical come together and you get that creative jolt. Here are some of them.
Becoming a hell of good tuba player and being All-Reagion and alternate All-State for 4 years.
Have my Freshman college English professor write on an essay, "You have creative sensibilities."
Dancing in Guys and Doll.
Seeing Diane for the first time while realizing that she was the one.
Having the cast stand in the wings watching Bob Finnicum, Lanelle Blanton and I doing the "Rain in Spain" number in My Fair Lady.
Playing Mitch in Streetcar Named Desire at Maguire AFB.
Auditioning a 15 year old named Ginger in Bangkok who sang the heck out of Luisa.
There were other moments, but this one was the best. The first summer Diane and I were married we lived in Canyon for the summer semester and we both participated in a production called "Thundering Sounds of the West." It was the precursor to "TEXAS" which is done out in Palo Duro Canyon. We played many roles. One of my roles was a pantomime performed standing on a large rock out from the rear of the stage. I was an Indian medicine man, whipping up the natives for what was the last warpath in that area. The narration indicated that as he spoke bullets spewed from his mouth, arrows appeared in his hands and as he threw his hands in the air the thunder rolled! There was a bad cloud approaching during that performance and when I threw my hands in the air….the thunder rolled! Now, THAT'S a creative moment.
I am going to be 74 this month and I have entered my J. Alfred Prufrock years. I worry about eating a peach and wearing my trousers rolled. I just watched a wonderful video production of Cats and as I watched the incredibly talented young things throwing the bodies around the stage, hearing that glorious Weber music and hearing those full throated voices I began to cry. Where had it all gone? I wanted to do that. I can't even make it up a rock strewn path at Hueco tanks or make it through Disney World with having to stop and huff and puff.
Please allow me this moment of introspection and wallow a little bit in some self pity. I promise you that it will pass. I just want to count for something. I just want to be allowed to share a little of this creativity that wells up in me. I need some applause. I need the center spot occasionally.
I just want to be the Indian on the rock again.
My high school years were not the high point of my life. There were moments in which I began to realize that perhaps the path I was following was not quite in step with my classmates. I enjoyed the years, but there was always that thought that there was something more. I managed to channel myself through activities with the band, writing and dreaming. I was certainly never a part of the "in" crowd by virtue of the fact that I was an athletic klutz, played the tuba and was not born to small town royalty. I became interested in theatre and soon I realized that I would never be cast because of these facts. I lost a role in a one act play because I wore glasses! The role went to one of the football players, of course. Sour grapes? Not really, but it chapped my butt! I used my books, went to the movies, listened to music and finished a rather unimpressive high school career. I will say that I was in the Senior play. I played the butler…in blackface! Oh, well…..
When I arrived at college my world exploded! I found many others who shared my tastes and I relished being in a creative camaraderie. Band was wonderful and soon I gravitated over to the theatre department. My drama parents, Bill and Margaret Moore, taught and guided me and I evolved. I was a late creative bloomer, but there it was! I even met Diane in the theatre department and we played husband and wife in the chorus of The Music Man.
After graduation I taught theatre to a group of uber talented students in White Deer, Texas, and even coached them to a State champion win in one act play. My creative juices were running out my ears! Even when I went into the Army I worked with little theatre groups on the posts and bases. We went to Bangkok where I was the Special Services officer and we worked with a tremendous theatre group in an American university. Diane and I co-directed a royal command performance of The Fantasticks and a wonderful production of Lion in Winter.
After my years in the Army we returned to El Paso and I taught theatre at two wonderful high schools and had a great time. Creative tickle still being served. I eventually went into counseling and scratched the itch through creative work through our church. We did shows, sang wonderful pieces and enjoyed the whole process.
The girls grew up and entered in the world of the Arts. Both of them were tremendous singers and were great on stage. We were delighted and I channeled my "tickle" through them. Life was good!
Then….
The girls moved on.
Diane died.
I have been thinking of moments. Moments when all things magical come together and you get that creative jolt. Here are some of them.
Becoming a hell of good tuba player and being All-Reagion and alternate All-State for 4 years.
Have my Freshman college English professor write on an essay, "You have creative sensibilities."
Dancing in Guys and Doll.
Seeing Diane for the first time while realizing that she was the one.
Having the cast stand in the wings watching Bob Finnicum, Lanelle Blanton and I doing the "Rain in Spain" number in My Fair Lady.
Playing Mitch in Streetcar Named Desire at Maguire AFB.
Auditioning a 15 year old named Ginger in Bangkok who sang the heck out of Luisa.
There were other moments, but this one was the best. The first summer Diane and I were married we lived in Canyon for the summer semester and we both participated in a production called "Thundering Sounds of the West." It was the precursor to "TEXAS" which is done out in Palo Duro Canyon. We played many roles. One of my roles was a pantomime performed standing on a large rock out from the rear of the stage. I was an Indian medicine man, whipping up the natives for what was the last warpath in that area. The narration indicated that as he spoke bullets spewed from his mouth, arrows appeared in his hands and as he threw his hands in the air the thunder rolled! There was a bad cloud approaching during that performance and when I threw my hands in the air….the thunder rolled! Now, THAT'S a creative moment.
I am going to be 74 this month and I have entered my J. Alfred Prufrock years. I worry about eating a peach and wearing my trousers rolled. I just watched a wonderful video production of Cats and as I watched the incredibly talented young things throwing the bodies around the stage, hearing that glorious Weber music and hearing those full throated voices I began to cry. Where had it all gone? I wanted to do that. I can't even make it up a rock strewn path at Hueco tanks or make it through Disney World with having to stop and huff and puff.
Please allow me this moment of introspection and wallow a little bit in some self pity. I promise you that it will pass. I just want to count for something. I just want to be allowed to share a little of this creativity that wells up in me. I need some applause. I need the center spot occasionally.
I just want to be the Indian on the rock again.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Remembering Rod
For some reasons hidden in the recesses of my memories I have been remembering an old friend, Rod Smith. During the wonderful years I spent at West Texas State University I made great friends and established relationships that have continued until today. The most important event was, of course, meeting my sweet wife, Diane. There were others and I want to speak of one today.
At WT back in the day, most of the students came from the Texas panhandle area. We were all interlinked with hometowns like Muleshoe, Dimmit, Paducah, Tulia….ad infinitum. When someone entered our circle from a great distance it was as if they were visiting students from afar! Diane, for example, came from El Paso and that was as exotic a place as we could imagine in our limited travels! Then came Rod Smith.
Rod was from CALIFORNIA, for goodness sake. He was not only from the environs of California, but he was from Newport Beach! We, for the most part, only dreamed of beaches and the world of movie stars. I want to give you a sense of Rod.
Rod was (as my father would say) a chuckle headed kid with a wide eyed sense of wonder and curiosity of everything he encountered. He had been a football player while in high school, but did not carry that swagger that high school footballers often presented. He loved all things military and relished his ROTC life at WT. When he arrived at WT he gravitated to the speech and theatre crowd and loved being in the middle of all that angst and strum and drang of a college theatre group. We all hung out in the green room between classes and Rod was right there with us. He participated in a small way in some of the productions, but that was not his intent. He just liked being with us. He loved watching us work on productions and always showed great interest in what was going on. Rod obviously enjoyed observing the shenanigans we pulled and even became a part of them. We took him along for the ride and, in retrospect, we enjoyed the attention he gave to us in our endeavors. He was interested in us and what amateur thespian does not enjoy that.
While at WT I very seldom went home without taking some of my friends with me. I lived on our farm out in the country in Paducah, Texas. Many of them had not experienced farm life and they enjoyed it. My wonderful parents loved kids and they always welcomed them. Rod came along on one of the trips and my folks, especially my dad, immediately fell in love with him. Rod had never seen a Texas farm/ranch and was blown away. He wanted to know EVERYTHING. What I had always taken for granted was a revelation to Rod. He was fascinated with the small bodies of water that spot most farms which we called "horse tanks." Because of that my dad immediately dubbed him "Horse Tank Rod." (I might add here that Dad called me "bird dog.") Old Horse Tank came home with me many times during my time at WT. He loved the freedom, the open spaces and was fascinated with the farm animals, especially the horses.
Life continued at WT. Rod became a part of our life. When Diane and I were married in 1964 he made the trek to El Paso for the wedding. When he went home for the summer of 1965 he entrusted his old Chevy to us until he returned. We used it a lot while Diane and I were living in Canyon that summer going out to Palo Duro Canyon working on the amphitheater show, "Thundering Sounds of the West." In September we moved to El Paso, went into the Army and life continued on for us. Rod was a part of our past, fondly remembered and as the years continued contact was lost. However, I never saw another "horse tank" without thinking of Rod.
Flash forward to around 2003. We are back in El Paso, our girls are gone and suddenly I get a letter.
"Is this the Ronnie Parks who attended WT?"
It was Rod! He had made the effort and found us. We were overjoyed and we immediately picked up from all those years ago. We discovered that he had entered the Marine Corps, made Colonel and was living in Golden, Colorado. He had married, yet had no children. He shared a little about his Viet Nam experiences, but in no great detail We did find out that he saw battle and, like many other Viet Nam vets, would not elaborate.
Then….we stopped hearing from him. It had been only a few months since we had reconnected and I began to worry. Finally, I wrote a letter to his wife inquiring about him. She replied and informed me that Rod had suddenly died.
Rod had died. It was a jolt to our hearts. I began to search to find out more about Rod's later life. Yes, he had been in the Marine Corps. He was a A6 Bombardier/Navigator stationed in Chu Lai and flew numerous missions over North VietNam. He was among the many war heroes of that era. When he left active duty he remained in the Reserves and became a full colonel. He moved to Colorado, worked for numerous oil companies and began he studies for the law. He became a contract lawyer after graduating from the University of Denver. He married and upon his retirement he and his wife bought an 18 acre ranch at Castle Rock, California. He died of coronary heart disease in 2004.
He left behind his wife, two golden retrievers……and a Tennessee Walker named "Overdrive." His wife sent a picture of him on his beloved horse. There was "Horsetank" Rod, that chuckleheaded kid from California, who fell in love with all things rural at our farm in Paducah, Texas.
I wept and I still weep today. Rest in peace, Rod, I am better for having known you.
At WT back in the day, most of the students came from the Texas panhandle area. We were all interlinked with hometowns like Muleshoe, Dimmit, Paducah, Tulia….ad infinitum. When someone entered our circle from a great distance it was as if they were visiting students from afar! Diane, for example, came from El Paso and that was as exotic a place as we could imagine in our limited travels! Then came Rod Smith.
Rod was from CALIFORNIA, for goodness sake. He was not only from the environs of California, but he was from Newport Beach! We, for the most part, only dreamed of beaches and the world of movie stars. I want to give you a sense of Rod.
Rod was (as my father would say) a chuckle headed kid with a wide eyed sense of wonder and curiosity of everything he encountered. He had been a football player while in high school, but did not carry that swagger that high school footballers often presented. He loved all things military and relished his ROTC life at WT. When he arrived at WT he gravitated to the speech and theatre crowd and loved being in the middle of all that angst and strum and drang of a college theatre group. We all hung out in the green room between classes and Rod was right there with us. He participated in a small way in some of the productions, but that was not his intent. He just liked being with us. He loved watching us work on productions and always showed great interest in what was going on. Rod obviously enjoyed observing the shenanigans we pulled and even became a part of them. We took him along for the ride and, in retrospect, we enjoyed the attention he gave to us in our endeavors. He was interested in us and what amateur thespian does not enjoy that.
While at WT I very seldom went home without taking some of my friends with me. I lived on our farm out in the country in Paducah, Texas. Many of them had not experienced farm life and they enjoyed it. My wonderful parents loved kids and they always welcomed them. Rod came along on one of the trips and my folks, especially my dad, immediately fell in love with him. Rod had never seen a Texas farm/ranch and was blown away. He wanted to know EVERYTHING. What I had always taken for granted was a revelation to Rod. He was fascinated with the small bodies of water that spot most farms which we called "horse tanks." Because of that my dad immediately dubbed him "Horse Tank Rod." (I might add here that Dad called me "bird dog.") Old Horse Tank came home with me many times during my time at WT. He loved the freedom, the open spaces and was fascinated with the farm animals, especially the horses.
Life continued at WT. Rod became a part of our life. When Diane and I were married in 1964 he made the trek to El Paso for the wedding. When he went home for the summer of 1965 he entrusted his old Chevy to us until he returned. We used it a lot while Diane and I were living in Canyon that summer going out to Palo Duro Canyon working on the amphitheater show, "Thundering Sounds of the West." In September we moved to El Paso, went into the Army and life continued on for us. Rod was a part of our past, fondly remembered and as the years continued contact was lost. However, I never saw another "horse tank" without thinking of Rod.
Flash forward to around 2003. We are back in El Paso, our girls are gone and suddenly I get a letter.
"Is this the Ronnie Parks who attended WT?"
It was Rod! He had made the effort and found us. We were overjoyed and we immediately picked up from all those years ago. We discovered that he had entered the Marine Corps, made Colonel and was living in Golden, Colorado. He had married, yet had no children. He shared a little about his Viet Nam experiences, but in no great detail We did find out that he saw battle and, like many other Viet Nam vets, would not elaborate.
Then….we stopped hearing from him. It had been only a few months since we had reconnected and I began to worry. Finally, I wrote a letter to his wife inquiring about him. She replied and informed me that Rod had suddenly died.
Rod had died. It was a jolt to our hearts. I began to search to find out more about Rod's later life. Yes, he had been in the Marine Corps. He was a A6 Bombardier/Navigator stationed in Chu Lai and flew numerous missions over North VietNam. He was among the many war heroes of that era. When he left active duty he remained in the Reserves and became a full colonel. He moved to Colorado, worked for numerous oil companies and began he studies for the law. He became a contract lawyer after graduating from the University of Denver. He married and upon his retirement he and his wife bought an 18 acre ranch at Castle Rock, California. He died of coronary heart disease in 2004.
He left behind his wife, two golden retrievers……and a Tennessee Walker named "Overdrive." His wife sent a picture of him on his beloved horse. There was "Horsetank" Rod, that chuckleheaded kid from California, who fell in love with all things rural at our farm in Paducah, Texas.
I wept and I still weep today. Rest in peace, Rod, I am better for having known you.
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