Marjorie's Story

For a second, he seemed disconcerted. I had not realized, saying that in Japanese? With the gesture of covering my mouth as I laughed? With my head and eyes shyly lowered?

Well, a few months after, to my mortification. In a Japanese version of Life magazine. An article I read mentioned that phrase is a common response from an attending Geisha to her male client's attempts at humor.

Mr. Yamamoro must have known I did not realize what I had exclaimed. Therefore he was polite enough to just accept it as another gauche error by an ignorant Westerner.

The Third Secretary immediately but thoroughly perused the forms I had brought. He marked several errors that needed to be corrected and parts where more information would be requested.. Generously, considering his busy schedule, he went to fetch two forms our project committee had missed including and explained to me how to properly fill them out.

Thanks to his punctilious assistance, I was able to return the following week, with all the forms filled correctly. This assisted the Planning Commission in their tasks of confirming our bonafides through the Japanese Consulate in New York City. That it took only another three weeks before they issued us a Preliminary Permit.

This was considered a record speed to getting any approvals out of the Yokohama Metropolitan bureaucracy.

A couple of months after that ecperience, I was describing my meeting with Mr. Yashimoro to one of the more experienced, ex-military, pastoral administrators. He chuckled and explained, that Yashimoro may have the bureaucratic rank of Third Assistant Secretary but he has the soul of an efficient engineer!

I suspect it was all because I was willing to sit down and drink a couple of cups of really superior tea and laugh at an older gentleman's joke. Gibing him the respect due his age and rank.

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Marjorie had also been trained in the basics of the Korean language. During her pastoral duties she found herself working often with the Reverend Chon Hwanyan.

He was a third generation Korean Christian. His grandfather had been converted as a young man and raised his family as Christians, even against persecution by the authorities.

Hwanyan's father had been murdered by the Japanese Occupation troops for sheltering wounded Korean partisans. The surviving members of the Chon family barely escaped the cruel reprisals.

A few years later, Hwanyan was forcibly conscripted for labor service by the Japanese authorities. In the second year of the Pacific War, he was shipped to Japan, as a slave worker building fortifications, winding up on a bomb damage road repair crew.

Now Reverend Chon, he used the opportunity to bear witness to his enduring faith. He converted the other slave laborers to the Christian faith and organized them into a guerilla band. It was their good fortune to be sent out of the city by the Imperial asministration to work on repairing damaged railroads linking the anti-invasion fortifications.

Before they could be starved to death, the War abruptly ended with Japan's surrender. Realizing that the guards had been momentarily stunned by the abrupt Imperial Order to lay down their arms and accept the Allies terms for Unconditional Surrender.

Chon and his little band fled their compound and hid out in some wreckage along the crippled railroad. A smart move as at many locations, spiteful Japanese soldiers, police and militia were slaughtering any helpless prisoners within their reach.

Chon was able to find and contact a U.S. Army Reconnaissance unit surveying immediate needs to feed the population.. Convincing an officer of his bona fides by supplying reliable information to the American authorities about remanent Japanese military redoubts, hidden in the countryside.

His stalwart band, under Reverend Chon's guidance, returned to Korea to find their surviving families and to spread the work of the Presbyterian Church.

When Joseph Stalin launched the Korean War. As the Communist armies (many Soviet Red Army in DPRK uniforms) drove deep into the Korea peninsula. The Church in Korea found itself beleaguered by a new, merciless enemy.

The nightmare repeated, as once more into the furnace, when the Chinese Communists invaded.

The Rev. Chon found himself back in Japan trying to organize civilian relief efforts to his stricken country.

When the Armistice finally brought a sullen peace to the shattered land, Rev. Chon was constantly shuttling back and forth as a respected native advisor and skilled organizer for the Presbyterian missions.

Marjorie had been assigned to his office in the Yokohama Mission and found him a shrewd executive and charismatic preacher. Rev. Chon relied upon her to run the office when he was away and never was disappointed at her competency and willingness to work hard.

Upon his appointment as a Senior Reverend by the newly organized Presbyterian Synod of Korea, Marjorie went with him to take charge of and build up the administration office in Pusan.

There she became good friends with Mrs. Chon Nam-jo, who appreciated that Marjorie's efficiency provided the Reverend Chon time to spend with his family.

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Chapter February 1955 - February 1956

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Pusan, Korea

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I found myself very relieved to be posted to Korea. It was a comfortably homey feeling to be surrounded by fellow Americans.

As we labor to expand the Mission & Relief office, in what had been a sector of the U.N./U.S. Allied Military Command Center during the siege of Pusan during the first years of the Police Action.

Now, that the Armistice seemed to be holding, the Military Command functionaries had moved up the peninsula to the liberated Capitol, Seoul.

The Pusanchin-ghu Refugee Center occupied maybe half the now redundant military base. A multitude of private relief groups have moved in to organize aid projects for the natives.

As we all began the hard work to restore their devastated towns and farms in liberated territory.

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There was a cold, wet sleet falling out of the dark grey clouds, as I dashed from the warm Quonset hut that was the bursars office to the warm Quonset hut of our dormitory.

Well, I was trying to dash. The gooey mud swamped my galoshes, made it an exhausting slog as I waded across to the next block.

Up the street, as I peeked through a narrow slit of the scarf muffling my face, I could see a road crew shoveling gravel from the back of a truck. We'll all be happy when they get the resurfacing done along this stretch of road.

There was a monotonous cycle of hot winds blowing fine silt all over everything. Then drenching downpours that turned all of it to a smelly muck. Then freezing cold that made every step into a frustrating exercise of slip sliding endurance.

Then it all repeated, over and over again.

Finally, as I clomped up to the Church Women's Quarters, I stopped at the scraper post to break off the several pounds of mud accumulated on my boots.

There was a few strands of tinsel nailed over the doorway and from the little windows were blurred views of handmade Christmas decorations the inhabitants had put up inside.

I wearily climbed up the steps, careful to hold onto the railing and went into the entry porch. I was met by Mrs. Mye-an, our housekeeper. She assisted me in getting my galoshes off to be cleaned and to hang up my overcoat and scarves.

After being out in the under 20 degrees, it was a welcomed blow to walk into the warmth of the dormitory. With it's comfortable smell of someone baking brownies and Betty's radio loudly playing holiday music from AFR-FE.

With the handmade decorations put up it was very cheerful in a girl's reformatory sort of way. Or at least that's what the girls who have done social work joke about.

For a second, tears stung my eyes as I felt a wave of homesickness. Then Cathy called my name and Phyllis waved me over to where a half-dozen women were clustered around Julia's bunk.

Cathy, with her normal bubbly voice exclaimed "Julia's gotten engaged!" As she grabbed my arm and tugged me into the crowd. There were several envious voices chattering about Julia's good luck.

The young brunette Julia Dannlly was an interesting contrast of smug happiness and dazed confusion.

She blurted out, "Lieutenant Franks just popped the question. Aaron's been notified that his airwing is being sent home by way of Hawaii. And he wants me to go with him. His Major will allow me a seat on one of the transports.

We can get married at Pearl and have a week or more for our honeymoon in Hawaii, before Johnny has to report to Tustin for de-mobbing."

I joined in the chorus of envy congratulating the lucky young woman and wishing her a happy holiday in Honolulu.

Working my way out of the crowd. I went back to the kitchenette where Mrs. Mye-an was helping Dorothy put together a celebratory supper.

When I saw the food I laughed. "Ohh, where did you get that ham? Here Dotty, let me mash those potatoes."

While I vigorously beat the boiled potatoes to a pulp, Mrs. Mye-an was stirring the pot of steaming green beans on the little stove. Dorothy was slicing the pink ham.

"I traded two cartons of Luckies to Karen at the motor pool office for two canned hams and a half-a-dozen cans of veggies. Her dorm is allowed to smoke and the drivers are so eager to get their paperwork stamped and back on the road, they generously tip the clerks."

I was mildly amused at myself that I no longer felt a twinge of guilt at taking advantage of being allowed to draw a cigarette ration, when none of us were smokers. Or, that the foods were undoubtably absconded items.

These little acts of barter make the harsh conditions and endless work just a little bit more bearable.

I took some of our precious supply of white butter out of the old icebox and a tin of Carnation to cream up the mash. Then the little Korean woman gently nudged my elbow and handed me the salt and pepper cans.

We smiled at one other as I thanked her in Korean with my flat mid-western accent, that the housekeeper was too polite to openly laugh at. Besides, she was grateful to me for my efforts at speaking her native language and that I try to remember to include her in some of our activities.

I always thought that when we made the effort to take advantage of the brief good weather to get out of the camp and visit local sights, having a friendly native speaker with us, results in better treatment by the locals.

Mrs. Mye-an was the widow of a ROK Army officer, whose unit had been wiped out. Courageously covering the American troops during their retreat into the Pusan perimeter.

Mrs. Mye-an worked hard to ingratiate herself with the women domiciled here. She wanted to find a permanent position as a housekeeper with a rich family of foreigners after all this was over.

She would need references for that and she was learning to understand English. Even if she was too shy to try to speak in it very often. Hoping that would enable her to save enough money for a comfortable old age. She did not expect the ROK government to keep their vague promises of a widow's pension.

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Chapter March 1956 - May 1956

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During my posting to the Korean Presbytery, I met the handsome Reverend Malcolm Meade and over several months, we gradually fell into becoming engaged. Once Malcolm had found a posting for a ministerial couple back in Ohio, we decided to marry in June after our return home to the States.

I found out later, that when my father received my letter explaining the newfound love between me and Malcolm. Including some history of the Rev. Malcolm Meade's education, training to the Ministry and our experiences at our pastoral labors, here in South Korea. That we were seeking to find a posting back in eastern Ohio.

My father took that letter to the Reverend McDowell and asked him to check into the young minister's credentials. Dr. McDowell was able to get good references from Malcolm's instructors and co-workers.

The Rev. Dr. McDowell' knew his ministry was successful enough that hiring an assistant pastor could provide the Good Doctor more time with his own family and for working on his next book. That decided him, to send Malcolm a offer of employment.

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It was a long and tedious journey from the Far East, with brief stop overs in Honolulu and San Francisco, Denver and Chicago. Finally home again to Ohio. I had spent most of two years at the Covenanter Institute in Cincinnati Then another two years posted overseas to Japan and Korea.

Those four years away have left me with a heartfelt longing for home and hearth. And especially for my family and friends and the comforts of the middle-class Middle-West.

As our final train rolled past the green farms and bustling communities of Ohio, I pressed my forehead against the vibrating glass and said to myself, "God bless me, I have missed this beautiful country!"

I must have spoken my fervent words aloud enough for Malcolm, seated next to me, to hear. He had been dozing over a book of biblical history written by his new boss the Reverend Dr. McDowell. As weary with travel as I was, he lifted his head towards me and asked, "I beg your pardon, my dear?"

I turned from the window and as I rubbed at my forehead that had been pressing on the glass, said a little louder for the train noises, "I was thinking out loud dearest, that as we finally are nearing home again. How beautiful this country is with The Good Lord's bounty. And what a joy it is for me to give thanks for our safe arrival."

He nodded his head slowly as he looked across my shoulder to the view rolling by. Turning his lovely blue eyes to me, he pursed his lips and admitted, "After seeing the devastation of war, we are indeed blessed to have the Divine Father's protective hand upon America's brow. That we have been chosen by God to inhabit such a fair and bountiful land. Your impulse to give thanks to the Lord displays why you are a pearl among women."

I blushed at his praise and modestly replied,"My feelings of gratitude to the Lord are enriched with the blessings of your love."

He chuckled in smug pride at my thoughtless complement. Reaching over he put his arm around me, pulled me closer and kissed me. First on my still redden forehead and then a brief kiss on my yearning lips.

I was secretly relieved that this car did not have facing seats and the few people who could have viewed our embrace were looking out, chattering about their own views of the passing scenery.

He saw me blush and gave me a possessively playful pinch on the cheek with a manly smile as he growled into my ear, "Soon! Soon, Miss Marjorie Howard, you will be Mrs. Malcolm Meade and we will have to discover just how many spousal duties will make you blush."

I know my cheeks flushed beet red at his suggestive comment and I pretended to pull away in mock horror at the innuendo. His strong arms pulled me closer and up onto his lap as he kissed my lips again, with only a momentary resistance from me.

It was broad daylight, in a car full of strangers we will never see again and we were both fully dressed of course. My weak femininity was easily seduced by Malcolm's rugged masculine charms.

Suddenly I noticed that a passing Negro porter was rolling his eyes and smirking at our antics. Mortified, I wiggled loose from my fiancee's embrace.

Briefly Malcolm looked puzzled. To dispel a gathering frown, I mockingly warned, "Puh-leeze Reverend Meade! What would your parishioners say if they heard of our going's on? You would scandalize Goodwoman Piety and Missus Prude."

His frown vanished as he smirked, "My dear young lady. A pious and highly regarded churchman as myself would never allow his reputation to be sullied by the whisper of common gossip."

Then, with a wicked smile, relishing my expected reaction to his words, "I am above reproach and suffer not from the tediously ordinary sins of the common folk. By definition, whatever I do with such a pretty lass such as yourself, must be an act of good intention and as such is beyond the criticism of petty morality."

Now that alarmed me! In a scandalized tone I replied, "Stop that, Malcolm. You mustn't even joke about such things. We will be expected to set a good example for everyone in the community. Every sharp tongue will wag if we give the slightest appearance of falling into error."

Just for a second, I thought I saw anger cross his face. Because I did not play along with his game? Was he disappointed in how prim and proper I was? That a mere woman had reproached him?

Then it was instantly gone under a slight smile as he wisely smoothed over our mutual tension with gentle words, "You are correct Marjorie, I was being too forward and intemperate in my language. It must be my exhaustion from this tedious journey home."

To make up to him for seducing him into voicing such scandalous words, I leaned back against him and pulled his arm across my shoulders. We quietly watched together out the window as Ohio unrolled past our train, until we heard the porter ringing the lunch chime.

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Upon our arrival in Youngstown, we were met at the station by most of my family and friends and carted off to home. Alas, before I could start to unpack and barely having time to visit with Momma in her sick bed, we were off to meet with Malcolm's family.

As Malcolm carefully steered my father's old Packard, I was staring blankly at the passing scenery. I was feeling a strong upwelling of grief at seeing the sunken condition of my poor Mother. I think Malcolm shrewdly guessed at my subdued attitude.

When he briefly looked in to meet Momma, the first look on his face at her condition expressed strong emotions of pity and revulsion.

I could not blame him. It has been a little more then two years since I have last seen her and it was a shock to me, better prepared by bitter experience.

The malignancy continues to eat at her poor suffering body. There is just an empty shell left of that vibrant, happy woman who I remembered from my childhood.

She, who has endured Hell on Earth. Never wavering in her devotion to the Lord. She has earned a seat among the Anointed in Heaven.

"Marjorie. Marjorie darling."

I dabbed at my damp eyes with a tissue and answered, "Momma never gave up hope. Never! She said that the Lord has called her to endure such suffering as an example for us. That we must never despair or falter in living up to our worship of the Divine."

"A remarkable and brave woman, your mother. I only wish that I had known her, before."

"Momma would have adored you. It seems to me that you are a lot like Poppa in your strength and obedience to duty."

"I can only promise to try to live up to such a paragon of virtue."

Now if any one else had uttered such a statement, I would have suspected them of sarcasm. However, my darling Malcolm was too upright of character.

I felt a twinge of shame at my momentary lapse of belief in his innate goodness. I realized that Lucifer was taking advantaged of my womanly emotions to whisper sedition in my ear.

Determined to deserve this dear man's trust, I stiffened my resolve and deliberately steered the conversation to more pleasant ideas. To improve our spirits for my first meeting with Malcolm's parents.

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I know I must show Christian charity.

I know that I need to work harder at practicing humility.

But, my Gracious!

Malcolm's parents triggered a certain sense of unease with their indifferent lack of affection at the return of their second son. They showed little cordiality to Malcolm and barely restrained hostility towards me as their future daughter-in-law.