He was a Jesuit priest from Chicago, a bit quixotic perhaps for giving up his US citizenship, but that was fitting for our group of PCVs; many of them were as inspired by the high Himalayan peaks and the forbidden Tibetan border as Moran was by a life of educational development in this remote corner of the world. Rumor had it that he kept his "Western' outlook through his amateur 'Ham' radio contacts, a passion begun as a teenager.
Whether or not it was actually his school, we all learned that 'Father Moran's School was the ultimate in education for outstanding Nepali boys, regardless of money or social status. His contribution to these lovely people was outstanding and consistent with his notions of service to God and service to those to whom the earth had been entrusted With our four small children, all of them feverish, coughing, or having their first bouts with intestinal complaints, I missed meeting Fr Moran at the welcoming party for the Volunteers. He was one of several Western Jesuits in the country, and I wondered if I would be able to recognize him. Then, one crisp, dry winter day as our family headed out of Kathmandu for a Sun day picnic, our jeep was barely creeping as we tried to gently maneuver through a flock of goats being herded by a couple of eight- or nine-year olds. As we safely pulled ahead of the herd, the sudden revving of a motor startled me. I looked out the side window to see a vintage motor cycle careening past us. (How did it get by the goats?) The rider was wearing a beret perched jauntily on his head, white cassock streaming in the wind, and a delighted little Nepali schoolboy clinging to the back. Who else, but Father Moran? It was not until Willi left to go climb Mt Everest with the 1963 American Expedition, however, that I really got to know him. Willi was part of the expedition. Temporarily on leave from the Peace Corps. Fr Moran was the main radio contact for the team through out much of the expedition.
I had married Willi not least because of his love for adventure and my desire for more of it. But with four small children, this was the closest I would come. Now Fr Moran became the direct link between those of us left behind in Kathmandu and those climbing the mountain. I, along with the official expedition historian and writer, James Ramsey Ullman, and several other expedition wives haunted 'Kathmandu Base Camp'-the ham radio shack where daily contact was made with the men on the mountain. Fr Moran was usually at the 'mike', especially during the days Willi was on the West Ridge and the day of his summit attempt.
Each evening, either Fr Moran or the American Embassy Attache, Col William 'Bill' Gresham, would contact Mt Everest Base Camp to keep us up to date with the progress of the climb. Each contact brought us news from the mountain. One time we were told of a smallpox epidemic in a village along the expedition route for which the team requested an emergency supply of vaccine. Another time it brought us the terrible news of the accidental death in the Khumbu Icefall of our friend, Jake Breitenbach.
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