Reunion of the Comité

This record has neglected the topic of “the Comité,” and that’s too bad. That’s what we sometimes called our little friendship group that sprang up in 1963, when Brooke (“Beetle”) Derr and Gordon (“Bar-Jonas the Whale”) Jones and Elaine (“The Witch”*) McMeen and I labored together on President Hinckley’s Mission Staff in Paris. Lowell Hawkes (no nickname** that I recall, apart from his occasional signature as “Hox”) was also a cherished member of the group, although he never served on the Staff. When our terms of service ended, we parted with solemn pledges that we’d come together frequently, back in the States. But life obtruded, and our scarce and precious reunions have taken place in subsets and too infrequently. Some have already found their way into this account: Beetle stopped to see us during our honeymoon year in Boston, on his way back to his family home at Walnut Creek, in the Bay Area. We shared a trip to the World’s Fair in New York, on that occasion. He and Patricia visited us in Escondido Village, as did Lowell and Sharon, and we shared dinner at least once. Beetle was also among the first of our family and friends to come there to meet*** our newborn first-born. It was our privilege to host the first post-mission meeting of Gordon and Elaine, who’d been strongly attracted to each other in Paris but had agreed to behave themselves for the time being. That meeting also introduced Gordon to his current and eternal spouse, Susan, who had been Elaine’s Cambridge roommate. After a fair amount of correspondence, little of which has survived, Beetle cast his academic lot with HGSE, and he and Patricia were our neighbors for a while, when we lived in Waverley. Then, our households scattered to an even greater extent, and the next time any of us met more than in passing was the evening of April 24, 2004 in Utah. more… *She picked up that nickname after a memorable performance in the role(s) of all three of Macbeth’s weird sisters; I forget the occasion. **Nicknames and such informalities were of course formally verboten in the missionary environment. Beetle used to recount a stressful interview in which President asked his Secretary, very sweetly, “I’m told that some of my staff use nicknames among themselves; is that so?” Elder Derr, shamefacedly: “Yes, sir, I’m afraid that’s true.” “Does Elder Jones have a nickname?” “Yes, he’s Bar-Jonas the Whale.” At this point, President’s Adam’s Apple bounced up and down, characteristically: “ and Sister Munford?” “She’s the Tree-Frong.” “Do you have a nickname, Elder Derr?” “Yes, sir, they call me the Beetle.” “Beetle, Elder Derr?” “Yes, sir.” More bounces. “Do I have a nickname?” Oh no, sir, we wouldn’t dare.” ***His memorable reaction to an early environment that we imposed upon Rick: “They just pulled out a drawer, and there he was!”

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