Brother Paul's Vision

The top photo was taken by me on the way to your dad's home for a pot luck. The object in the sky above the telephone pole is not the moon. In the bottom photo that I have taken a second or so later of the same scene, the object has moved across the colorful rainbow to a position higher in the sky. Both of these were taken in late January of 2007. I had stopped to take a photo of a beautiful rainbow but not the one that you see in the photo. I took two photos of this celestial rainbow and then went on to Ray's. At the time we did not know the extent of Ray's illness and we had great hope of his returning to good health. Later at my home, I was shocked to see that the two photos that I took were not same as the rainbow that I saw.

I knew then that this was like many other communication I have received from the other side that Ray would be crossing over and coming home. ( I am in tears as I write this). It is the first time that I have shared this with anyone in the family.

Brother Paul Boeckmann (sent to Robert and posted by Robert)

NB: Note the difference between the first and second photo. The first is considerably darker and the object is just above a electrical/telephone pole. This is indicative that what you are seeing has a hidden message. The second photo is much lighter in context but taken a few seconds later. Note the position of the object. It has now crossed over the path of colorful light and is in the heavens. ( An enlightened state of consciousness)

Ididarod on cross country skis

Well the thing I wished I would of done with dad was to ski the Ididarod . It was his idea I foolishly dismissed as a Foley at the time . It would have been a three week trip across Alaska with dad talk about a screw up . I can still see him and hear his words Adem why couldn't we do that ? I said why don't we snow machine it ? he lost interest and we went on are day to day .The other thing we talk about was death this was shortly after Beckys dad died and he said he hoped to never have to experience a long slow death like he had seen . I suggested when his time came I would take him for the float trip to end all . We could get a raft and float the Yukon river and he could spend his last days in the wilds of Alaska . He asked what if I'm still a live when we got to the Bering sea I said well I guess we just keep on going to Russia . This picture is from on top of King Island its a short hike but nearly strait up he would of loved it one more for the dad wish list Robert .

adem

artic breeze

Its nice to be home , we were welcomed home with warm harts an a cool Arctic breeze. I'm hopping to run threw the gear tomorrow or Wednesday,the crab pots are hopefully full after the break to have Archer kRay,we sure could use a big pay check from the sea. Did anyone pick Kenny Rogers for dads look a like? I heard a song from the Gambler today and I remberd dad was a bit of a look alike and a big fan. Archers getting a lot of milk and sleep he still acts a littel like he was still in the womb ,he curls up in a ball when he sleeps, he may have dads hair but the eyes are goin to be blue I think. Adem Kougarok is allmost done with Udoc a colage prep cource

and will come home for two weeks for some moose hounting and to crew on are boat for the halbut season. He said the Udoc is grate and has been a real asset THANK YOU UNCLE BERT.

Avils almost as big as me and has started to fill his big brothers shoes as #2 man of the house. Atlas is a real fource every one love him and hes tacken to being a big brother in Atlas stile ,both feet and running. Thank god for my wife she has givven me four perfict boys without skipping a beat she is well and resting. good nite and good fishing Adem pual

Just Do It - With Dad

Ok Dana and Adem have thrown down a few good interactive posts in the past. A challenge to engage. Well here is mine. I thought of it a while back. Yeah, I think it was Huston. =-{
Tell us something that you have done or never got around to doing that you would like to with Dad. Here are some examples. For me – well we never got to hike Resurrection Pass like we planned to. Or raft the Colorado river. Or like I've done before, I’d like to go on a quiet morning of fishing out on a lake just the two of us – and maybe catch nothing at all. Or go on a day hike with him and my kids again. Every hike I’ve taken my kids on this summer he’s hung around in my thoughts taking deep breaths of the mountain air, smiling and looking about in deep appreciation like the last time we went hiking with the kids.
So what is it that you want to do again – or that you never got around to doing?
Do tell.


PS: Adem, you asked us about something Dad did that bugged us… well one for me was his wild eye – the one that went round and round while he chewed – that used to creep me out. It bugged me less when I got old enough to screw up the courage to ask him why it did that. Seems like it became less pronounced as he got older. You know something wild. Just the other day I got a haircut and while looking at myself in the mirror at home… a chill went up my spine because I saw that eye – his eye looking back at me. It wasn’t moving around or anything – its just that one of my eyes seemed to be his and he was looking at me. It was really weird. I thought I was insane for only about 20 seconds but maybe you all know differently.. =-)

Thanks for Dying in Houston Dad

It was a frantic time there in late December trying to get a flight out of Alaska to Houston. I was on the phone for countless hours trying to get a flight. Night after night I slept fitfully on the cold floors of the airport hoping to get on a flight on standby. In the end I got not one but two flights. One that got me there the day after Christmas and one that got me there the day before. The first one I bought got me there on the 26th the second one I bought (with a different carrier) got me there when I needed to be there. So here is the irony – why I thanked Dad for dying in Houston. I had a nearly 2000 dollar ticket on Continental to spare – and Continental flies through Huston on the way to Costa Rica. So Mischell and I went to Costa Rica this summer. I didn’t really notice on the way to Costa Rica but on the way back we had a 6 hour layover and it all started flooding back. “Will I make it in time?” “How far is the Hospital?” “Does he know how close I am?”

Mischell was taking a nap in a chair and I wandered the big airport alone. I had a great trip to Costa Rica so I said quietly “Thanks for Dying in Houston Dad” while looking up into the air above me. Then I started looking in earnest. Where was he exactly? Up there? A little higher? In a particular place or more spread out? Where is heaven? Even as a child I was disappointed with the rather earthly vision of heaven as a place with pearly gates and streets paved with gold. What was with all the riches? Didn’t Jesus overturn the money changer’s tables and rebuke them for valuing earthly treasures? So that vision of heaven must have been a typo I think… an error or human transcription. So as I my feet slowly traced the countless footfalls of travelers before me I pondered the possibilities. Heaven is supposed to be up. Not down. But how far up? Is it enough that it isn’t down? What if it was right here beside us and we just can’t see it most of the time or ever? Where do they say God is? In Heaven - that is one answer. Another one is that he is everywhere. So where does that make Heaven? So slowly my face, turned up to the sky as it was, began to settle on the plane that I was walking. I thought maybe if Dad is in heaven he isn’t in one place far above me but all around me. I remembered a song I listened to with him – just months before, in my favorite movie about St. Francis. “… Love is all around you…”. Then I saw him and smiled. She was about 4 years old with a look of wonder on her face as her stroller glided across the mirror smooth linoleum. She was captivated by the patterns changing on the floor as her chariot carried her effortlessly along. And there, a middle aged man in a Hawaiian shirt with a bit of a paunch studying the schedule of departures in a solid stance. And the mother lovingly putting the errant curl of her 10 year old daughter’s hair behind her ear. A young black man with a brief case making a call, busy reaching for goals, plans, and excited about the future. An old man playing with a grandson in the way only children can. A plant reaching for the light. An old woman with a serene face and a quiet smile greeting the river of humanity passing by. The light spilling in the high windows setting it all a glow. I was comforted by this vision of Dad in heaven all around me and that light caught the tear of happiness and sorrow as is it rolled silently down my face and I wondered if heaven was standing there in me too.

His Father's Son

I’ve been meaning to post this for quite a long time. In fact my heart has sung at least a dozen pages for this blog and my fingers have felt too tired or inadequate to the task of writing the score. As time passes I hear each song less clearly and my initial suspicion that something will be lost in translation becomes a rock solid belief. But… Adem and Reachel both pestered me this week about how I haven’t contributed to the blog in a long while. So here is one.
Early this spring I had the pleasure to visit with Adem and his family in Nome. They were gracious hosts and I felt the warmth of home while far away in a cold dark land. (Thank you). I was there in an official capacity to learn more about the community and so I met with a lot of people and wandered about momentarily insinuating myself into the lives of all manner of local folks. I also traversed the community with my brother Adem, worked by his side… and I saw Ray Boeckmann there in Nome. I saw him in the eager smiles of welcome extended to Adem where ever he went. I saw him in the generosity Adem showed to the people of his community. In how he watched over the vulnerable and guided young people. How he shouldered his work with enthusiasm and with a sense of play and adventure. And I saw him in the kind words and respect showed for Adem when I spoke with the townsfolk. He is indeed his Father’s Son. Adem has a great respect for his father and would like to live up to his standards, yet I don’t think he realizes how close he is to the mark. Nor does he appreciate that you don’t have to be Ray Boeckmann to fully honor who he was.