Flying from Jakarta to Bangkok, we made a stop in Kuala Lumpur for a reunion with my friends at the University of Malaysia Library, and also, to visit my late wife Dorothy’s Malaysian Chinese family.
left to right: Sisters Ruth, Anette, Mother Theresa, Dorothy (my soon to be wife), sister Gladys
Ruth, and her husband, Robert, met us at the airport. We stayed with them in their house in Ukay Heights.
It was a beautiful house and, as is typical in Malaysia, was open to the air with decorative metal bars covering the windows and doors. Our bedroom was the only air-conditioned room in the house. Also typical were the geckos (small friendly lizards) who wandered around on the walls and the ceilings. New to Pat, she was not terribly happy with them. In spite of being told to the contrary, she just knew that they would fall off the ceiling onto her bed while she slept. She also knew that snakes could come into the house through the decorative bars in the living room.
On the first night, I had barely gone to sleep when she jumped into my single bed where we both spent the night. On succeeding nights, while only a bit uneasy, she adjusted to where she could sleep in her own bed.
The first morning, Ruth took us to see Mrs. Ho, the mother of Dorothy’s large family. She had seen so much sorrow during her life during the Japanese occupation. How she, by herself, provided for her large family during that period remains a miracle. Her estranged husband, who lived with a concubine in Bangkok, could not get help to her.
Mrs. Ho was in an “old folk’s” home where she could receive the help that the family could no longer provide. She was overcome when Pat and I met her and spent a lot of time crying with happiness at meeting us.
She was a devout Catholic. I remember that Ruth had suggested that I stop sending her money occasionally because as Ruth said “It went straight to the Church.”
That evening Ruth and her husband Robert had a family gathering of about 40 to meet us. There was a big buffet with many Chinese, Malay and Indonesian dishes – one of which was “rendang” – one of my favorites.
While Mrs. Ho was not there, we were able to meet her sister, Trosie (Auntie Rose). She had survived being interred by the Japanese in Singapore’s infamous Changi prison. She was a delight and told us that she spends most days with her friend playing mahjong.
Dorothy’s sister, Gladys, had come from her home in Malaga Spain using our visit as an excuse to visit family in Bangkok. For those who have used our small silver spoons at Thanksgiving and Christmas, these are a result of Gladys’ winnings as Thailand’s bridge champion. She was there with her big honker of a diamond ring. Ruth complained that every time Gladys comes to visit, she has to put it in the safe deposit box at the bank. “Why doesn’t she leave it at home?”
It was at this party that Pat and I received the telegram from my brother Dick, saying “Nancy named 4th runner-up Miss America – now unhappy.” (it referred to our niece Nancy Chapman). It wasn’t till later that we found that the telegram should have said “not” instead of “now.”
The next day, Ruth took us to my hunting grounds, the University Library for a reception that they gave for me. It was a joyous reunion after 17 years, arranged by Joyce Kho, the new librarian. Joyce arranged to serve, among other, things, curry puffs – my favorite. Three of my friends had died prematurely – Eddie Yeoh, Baradas Gopal and Aziz bin Sheik Mydin. Donald Wijasuria was there even though he had left to become the National Librarian. Beda Lim had left to work in Macau and Nadanasababathy (Nada for short) had left his wife and gone to Australia. Otherwise, nearly all of my friends were there, including the two cleaning ladies that I wrote about in an earlier memoir. On this day, one put her hand to her face, snickered and whispered loudly about me, saying “gemok” – which means “fat.” When I left in 1965, I weighed about 150 pounds. I was many pounds heavier on this occasion. It was a happy reunion.
Library Staff 1964. I am first row center
On the last day before leaving for Bangkok, Robert took us to Malacca, stopping on the say to show Pat a working rubber plantation, explain how the bark was cut allowing the sap to drain and be collected in small crude ceramic bowls before collection for processing.
Malacca is an old historic town, claimed by Portugal, with several Portuguese ruins from the days of Saint Francis Xavier who had once been there. 
I remember Malacca from the time that my fellow librarians had taken Alice Lage, another Peace Corps librarian, and me for a beach party. I had ridden with Nada in his VW bug. He stopped at a banana plantation to pick up some bananas. To my amazement he bought a whole stalk, with enough bananas for the Salvation Army – and we were only about 15.
From the beach, across the narrow Straits of Malacca, was the island of Sumatra in Indonesia, which one was supposed to be able to see on a clear day. On this clear day, I didn’t. 
It was a wonderful place that looked very much like a travel poster – with coconut trees leaning out over the water. Mangrove swamps, etc. It is also the place where Nada lost his partial denture. We all dove for it but to no avail.
Several years later Nada visited Pat and me in Washington, D. C. at which time he made a curry for dinner. It was so hot that Pat still refers to it often!
Back to the day in question, Robert, who seemed to know many people in Malacca took us to a hole in the wall restaurant where we were welcomed with open arms and a feast fit for a King.
Malacca memories are special.
Pat has often said that she would like to be part of a large Chinese family. With this visit, we fulfilled her wish.
l-r Sisters Ruth, Anette, Mother Theresa, Dorothy, sister Gladys
Ruth, and her husband, Robert, met us at the airport. We stayed with them in their house in Ukay Heights.
It was a beautiful house and, as is typical in Malaysia, was open to the air with decorative metal bars covering the windows and doors. Our bedroom was the only air-conditioned room in the house. Also typical were the geckos (small friendly lizards) who wandered around on the walls and the ceilings. New to Pat, she was not terribly happy with them. In spite of being told to the contrary, she just knew that they would fall off the ceiling onto her bed while she slept. She also knew that snakes could come into the house through the decorative bars in the living room.
On the first night, I had barely gone to sleep when she jumped into my single bed where we both spent the night. On succeeding nights, while only a bit uneasy, she adjusted to where she could sleep in her own bed.
The first morning, Ruth took us to see Mrs. Ho, the mother of Dorothy’s large family. She had seen so much sorrow during her life during the Japanese occupation. How she, by herself, provided for her large family during that period remains a miracle. Her estranged husband, who lived with a concubine in Bangkok, could not get help to her.
Mrs. Ho was in an “old folk’s” home where she could receive the help that the family could no longer provide. She was overcome when Pat and I met her and spent a lot of time crying with happiness at meeting us.
She was a devout Catholic. I remember that Ruth had suggested that I stop sending her money occasionally because as Ruth said “It went straight to the Church.”
That evening Ruth and her husband Robert had a family gathering of about 40 to meet us. There was a big buffet with many Chinese, Malay and Indonesian dishes – one of which was “rendang” – one of my favorites.
While Mrs. Ho was not there, we were able to meet her sister, Trosie (Auntie Rose). She had survived being interred by the Japanese in Singapore’s infamous Changi prison. She was a delight and told us that she spends most days with her friend playing mahjong.
Dorothy’s sister, Gladys, had come from her home in Malaga Spain using our visit as an excuse to visit family in Bangkok. For those who have used our small silver spoons at Thanksgiving and Christmas, these are a result of Gladys’ winnings as Thailand’s bridge champion. She was there with her big honker of a diamond ring. Ruth complained that every time Gladys comes to visit, she has to put it in the safe deposit box at the bank. “Why doesn’t she leave it at home?”
It was at this party that Pat and I received the telegram from my brother Dick, saying “Nancy named 4th runner-up Miss America – now unhappy.” (it referred to our niece Nancy Chapman). It wasn’t till later that we found that the telegram should have said “not” instead of “now.”
The next day, Ruth took us to my hunting grounds, the University Library for a reception that they gave for me. It was a joyous reunion after 17 years, arranged by Joyce Kho, the new librarian. Joyce arranged to serve, among other, things, curry puffs – my favorite. Three of my friends had died prematurely – Eddie Yeoh, Baradas Gopal and Aziz bin Sheik Mydin. Donald Wijasuria was there even though he had left to become the National Librarian. Beda Lim had left to work in Macau and Nadanasababathy (Nada for short) had left his wife and gone to Australia. Otherwise, nearly all of my friends were there, including the two cleaning ladies that I wrote about in an earlier memoir. On this day, one put her hand to her face, snickered and whispered loudly about me, saying “gemok” – which means “fat.” When I left in 1965, I weighed about 150 pounds. I was many pounds heavier on this occasion. It was a happy reunion.
On the last day before leaving for Bangkok, Robert took us to Malacca, stopping on the say to show Pat a working rubber plantation, explain how the bark was cut allowing the sap to drain and be collected in small crude ceramic bowls before collection for processing.
Malacca is an old historic town, claimed by Portugal, with several Portuguese ruins from the days of Saint Francis Xavier who had once been there.
I remember Malacca from the time that my fellow librarians had taken Alice Lage, another Peace Corps librarian, and me for a beach party. I had ridden with Nada in his VW bug. He stopped at a banana plantation to pick up some bananas. To my amazement he bought a whole stalk, with enough bananas for the Salvation Army – and we were only about 15.
From the beach, across the narrow Straits of Malacca, was the island of Sumatra in Indonesia, which one was supposed to be able to see on a clear day. On this clear day, I didn’t.
It was a wonderful place that looked very much like a travel poster – with coconut trees leaning out over the water. Mangrove swamps, etc. It is also the place where Nada lost his partial denture. We all dove for it but to no avail.
Several years later Nada visited Pat and me in Washington, D. C. at which time he made a curry for dinner. It was so hot that Pat still refers to it often!
Back to the day in question, Robert, who seemed to know many people in Malacca took us to a hole in the wall restaurant where we were welcomed with open arms and a feast fit for a King.
Malacca memories are special.
Pat has often said that she would like to be part of a large Chinese family. With this visit, we fulfilled her wish.