Farewell to Thailand’s gem

As the years pass, saying goodbye to cherished friends becomes an inevitable part of life.

Many years ago, in the lush gardens of Bangkok’s Chitralada Palace, I had the honor of meeting Her Majesty Queen Sirikit of Thailand, a vision of elegance. With her petite frame, lustrous ebony hair, and flawless complexion, she was the epitome of grace, often adorned in exquisite Thai silk. Our friendship spanned decades, and sadly, she passed away last week.

Throughout our friendship, we spent cherished moments together, whether in Thailand or during her visits here. I recall a conversation as we sat under the blazing sun. In her beautifully accented English, she confided, “Thanks to my country’s generous climate, my skin remains line-free. Frequent perspiration helps keep it smooth.”

We supported each other in various endeavors over the years. She had a vision for Bloomingdale’s to feature a Thai department showcasing her nation’s handicrafts and silk, and I assisted by conducting interviews. She reciprocated by inviting me to her gatherings. Our friendship began in 1961, marking a significant chapter in my life.

During my years in television news, she granted me an exclusive one-on-one interview. In her honor, I wore a white Thai silk suit for the occasion at the Plaza Hotel, where her entourage was staying. To my surprise, Her Majesty arrived in an identical stunning white Thai silk suit. Changing was out of the question due to time constraints, and I felt a twinge of embarrassment, though her gracious staff assured me it was unnecessary.

Or take the dinner she planned in my honor in upcountry Chiang Mai. It was right off my plane’s arrival and my hair looked like it had been ripped off a camel’s behind. I was wearing this big floppy hat. The kind to protect you from the sun. I am chauffeured directly to this banquet for me. No stopping at the hotel for improvements.

I am seated next to Her Majesty. Smack alongside this elegant stunning lady in a tightly packed table. From nerves, I dropped a utensil. Although 75 servants would have grabbed it for me, I stupidly bent to retrieve it. In doing so my wide straw brim scraped Her Majesty’s face. She paid it no mind but half the country’s soldiers — bayonets in place — raced to shoot me.

Among her gifts to me were a handmade woven dark straw basket evening bag. The lining Thai silk. The handle 18-k gold. The bag trimmed in diamonds. I have it still. Another time a brooch. A 24-k gold beetle. Its sides laminated with an actual beetle’s wings. Why? “Because,” she said. “Beetles are earth’s longest lasting creatures.” I have it still. And what had she wanted from me? A little drugstore packet of Kleenex.

My last time with her was when Thailand suffered its massive tsunami. People washed away. Homes destroyed. Lives lost. My friend Geoffrey Weill, one of the world’s most successful travel experts, and I had two longtime close South African friends — young teenage sisters, lost. Gone. We were crazed as to what happened to them.

I flew with Geoffrey to Thailand. Queen Sirikit gave us a high-ranking air force officer. He commandeered an army plane. We flew to Phuket, where the Israeli army, accustomed to death, was in charge of bodies and their severed parts. One of our friends had the South Africa map tattooed on her side. Thus, they could identify her.

After that Her Majesty was not well. She had stepped down. Her once gorgeous figure had taken on weight. She was receiving no more. I did not see her again. But I will love her always.

Speaking of international matters brings me to Saudi Arabia. Once, a violent sandstorm disrupted all wire services. This sign suddenly appeared: “Until further notice, please limit calls to four wives.”

Only — so far — not in New York, kids, not in New York.