RALPH MYLIUS
While I was in England, I had one day when I woke up in a funk. Not a foul mood, exactly, but a bad one - I was depressed, irritated, absolutely and completely out of sorts, and I could not find a reason why. Everything was going beautifully, I had had no major changes in my diet, no one had done anything to annoy me - and yet I was ready to take a bite out of the first person who came too close. I went off and spent the day downtown, and with admirable restraint, did not bite anyone. When I got back to Wimbledon, I found several emails telling me that Ralph Mylius, a friend of mine on Kwajalein, had died.
Ralph was, based on the limited knowledge I had of him, an extraordinary gentleman. He was, first and foremost, a gentleman, in the old school sense of the word. He was gracious, unfailingly tolerant, creative, witty, sympathetic, had excellent taste in a number of things including wine and women (more on that in a second) and he was solid. As a friend of mine who is Australian would say, he was “good value.” (And for my Australian friend, that is about his highest compliment.) He always managed to bring a sense of elegance to anything he did; to use an old word, he was “courtly.”
Kwajalein is a small community, and when it became known that Ralph and Sabrina were “seeing” each other, everyone was delighted. Because everything good one could say about Ralph, one can likewise say about Sabrina. Maybe even more so. Certainly Ralph rose a step or two in everyone’s estimation simply because Sabrina liked him. That, on Kwaj, was perhaps the highest character reference one could get. And the two of them were like my parents - not that they scolded me and made me eat my spinach, but rather that somehow the two of them together were more than just the sum of their parts. One plus one somehow equaled three. Or four. Or some mystical number that always had something to do with champagne. For instance, when I was hosting the weekly Padre’s Pub, a gathering of friends to share food and gossip, Ralph and Sabrina would often arrive early, bearing chilled champagne and three glasses. (One for me, of course.) Champagne is often used to make an occasion more special; Ralph and Sabrina somehow made champagne more special.
They were to be married in April, and last December were going to go on a trip together to South America. Before they left Ralph had not been feeling well, and had gone to the local hospital on Kwaj. (Those who are regular readers of this blog know of my adventures with and opinion of the local hospital on Kwaj.) They checked him out and said he was fine. Since he still did not feel fine, when they got to the US he went to see another doctor who ran some tests and promptly put him in the hospital for intravenous drugs and absolutely said he was in NO CONDITION to take the trip to South America. (As I understand it, the caps are the doctor’s.)
He returned and apparently never completely felt right. He had been sick for a while, and then got feeling worse, bad enough to go back to the hospital on Kwaj, where they checked him out, said he was fine and sent him home. That, if I remember the sequence correctly was Monday night. Tuesday night he felt worse and left Sabrina to go back to his own apartment to try and get some rest. He did not show up for work on Wednesday morning, and when the local police entered the apartment, he was dead.
The Kwaj community showed the depth of their love and rallied around Sabrina. As she put it, she could hardly imagine being a widow without first having been a bride. I have not always had great things to say about the company that runs the place, but in this case, from everything I have heard, they have responded magnificently, treating Sabrina like the spouse she was about to become, and doing everything they could to help out. Friends in the States have likewise been devastated and emails have bounced around among people who don’t know each other, trying to figure out ways to help.
I include this section because Ralph deserves a story in the Times, and since I can’t do that, I can at least give him a section in a blog. I include it because if I am going to be honest about writing stuff that happens, this is certainly one of the biggest (and worst) events so far in my mini-sabbatical. I include it because stories of love and support and generosity should always be told, and that has been the theme on Kwaj since the news first got around.
I include a picture of Ralph and Sabrina that was taken at one of the parish parties when I was still there. Ralph is the one with the beard. There is no way of telling which is the one with the greater love.
While I was in England, I had one day when I woke up in a funk. Not a foul mood, exactly, but a bad one - I was depressed, irritated, absolutely and completely out of sorts, and I could not find a reason why. Everything was going beautifully, I had had no major changes in my diet, no one had done anything to annoy me - and yet I was ready to take a bite out of the first person who came too close. I went off and spent the day downtown, and with admirable restraint, did not bite anyone. When I got back to Wimbledon, I found several emails telling me that Ralph Mylius, a friend of mine on Kwajalein, had died.
Ralph was, based on the limited knowledge I had of him, an extraordinary gentleman. He was, first and foremost, a gentleman, in the old school sense of the word. He was gracious, unfailingly tolerant, creative, witty, sympathetic, had excellent taste in a number of things including wine and women (more on that in a second) and he was solid. As a friend of mine who is Australian would say, he was “good value.” (And for my Australian friend, that is about his highest compliment.) He always managed to bring a sense of elegance to anything he did; to use an old word, he was “courtly.”
Kwajalein is a small community, and when it became known that Ralph and Sabrina were “seeing” each other, everyone was delighted. Because everything good one could say about Ralph, one can likewise say about Sabrina. Maybe even more so. Certainly Ralph rose a step or two in everyone’s estimation simply because Sabrina liked him. That, on Kwaj, was perhaps the highest character reference one could get. And the two of them were like my parents - not that they scolded me and made me eat my spinach, but rather that somehow the two of them together were more than just the sum of their parts. One plus one somehow equaled three. Or four. Or some mystical number that always had something to do with champagne. For instance, when I was hosting the weekly Padre’s Pub, a gathering of friends to share food and gossip, Ralph and Sabrina would often arrive early, bearing chilled champagne and three glasses. (One for me, of course.) Champagne is often used to make an occasion more special; Ralph and Sabrina somehow made champagne more special.
They were to be married in April, and last December were going to go on a trip together to South America. Before they left Ralph had not been feeling well, and had gone to the local hospital on Kwaj. (Those who are regular readers of this blog know of my adventures with and opinion of the local hospital on Kwaj.) They checked him out and said he was fine. Since he still did not feel fine, when they got to the US he went to see another doctor who ran some tests and promptly put him in the hospital for intravenous drugs and absolutely said he was in NO CONDITION to take the trip to South America. (As I understand it, the caps are the doctor’s.)
He returned and apparently never completely felt right. He had been sick for a while, and then got feeling worse, bad enough to go back to the hospital on Kwaj, where they checked him out, said he was fine and sent him home. That, if I remember the sequence correctly was Monday night. Tuesday night he felt worse and left Sabrina to go back to his own apartment to try and get some rest. He did not show up for work on Wednesday morning, and when the local police entered the apartment, he was dead.
The Kwaj community showed the depth of their love and rallied around Sabrina. As she put it, she could hardly imagine being a widow without first having been a bride. I have not always had great things to say about the company that runs the place, but in this case, from everything I have heard, they have responded magnificently, treating Sabrina like the spouse she was about to become, and doing everything they could to help out. Friends in the States have likewise been devastated and emails have bounced around among people who don’t know each other, trying to figure out ways to help.
I include this section because Ralph deserves a story in the Times, and since I can’t do that, I can at least give him a section in a blog. I include it because if I am going to be honest about writing stuff that happens, this is certainly one of the biggest (and worst) events so far in my mini-sabbatical. I include it because stories of love and support and generosity should always be told, and that has been the theme on Kwaj since the news first got around.
I include a picture of Ralph and Sabrina that was taken at one of the parish parties when I was still there. Ralph is the one with the beard. There is no way of telling which is the one with the greater love.
