Art and Helen Romig were memorable people in my life. Art’s parents were Presbyterian missionaries; he grew up in China at a time when the Presbyterians alone had 500 missionary workers in China. He studied at the College of Wooster in Ohio, then attended Princeton Seminary. Art courted Helen, a social worker in New York City, and they married and returned to China as missionaries. Helen and the children were evacuated to the U.S. during the Japanese occupation; Art was held in a prison camp for several years. After the war the Romigs returned to China but were sent home again, this time by the new communist government.

Art continued his ministry as a pastor and presbytery executive before “retiring” to  central Ohio, where I met him. He joined the staff of the congregation I was serving, and we worked together until he retired again, this time to Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Helen, an accomplished artist, had a collection of ancient Chinese gravestone rubbings that were of interest to Chicago’s Field Museum. They were invited to visit the museum, and my wife and I hosted the Romigs during their stay. One night we ate dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Art ordered for us in Chinese, of course, and before we knew it he was engaged in a lively, animated exchange with our waiter. The young man hurried off, and Art said, “Wait till you see this!”