Over the years I’ve had a lot of unique, interesting friends. One of those friends was Gerald (Jerry) Siemienkiewicz. You may think, from his last name, that he was a character. To call Jerry a character would be a gross understatement. I’ve never known anyone like him — he was one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, as well as the kindest and most generous. I can’t think of anyone that didn’t like Jerry. He was certainly unique and marched to his own drum, but never to the detriment of anyone. Sadly, Jerry became a ’Silent key’ (a term a communications organization uses for eternal rest) in 1999.
Stories about Jerry could fill several volumes, but here’s one that I particularly like….
We were in Saigon and most days wound up traveling “up country” to some pretty desolate and deserted, dirty places. Even though he had a maid in Saigon, I’m pretty sure Jerry’s clothes were never ironed and many of them were in need of repair. His shoes were pretty much on their last mile — the soles were coming off and were held on by duct tape. But Jerry, always concerned about others, traded shoes with a beggar on the street. The beggar’s shoes were no more than soles of old flip-flops tied to his feet with string. But Jerry gave him his shoes (such as they were) and wore the beggar’s shoes. He rode a motorcycle that didn’t have any fenders and almost every shirt he had had a “mud streak” up the back because of the lack of a rear fender. At least two or three days a week we had to go into the embassy…. needless to say, Jerry never went unnoticed.
One day, our boss called Jerry in and told him that he could never ask for a better employee, but the fact that he was representing the U.S. Government in a foreign country, even if a war was going on, he should look more professional — especially when he had work in the embassy.
Jerry looked at him, and said that he was absolutely correct — he had just never given it much thought, but he should look more professional, and he assured our boss that he’d make an effort to present a more professional appearance.
The next day, Jerry arrived at the embassy — his clothes still looked like he’d slept in them, he still wore the beggar’s “shoes,” still badly needed a haircut, and still had the mud streak up his back. But — he had a slide rule in his shirt pocket.
— 30 —