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.

Archer Kray Boeckmann

The Legacy Continues!
born 3 weeks early and tipping the scales at 9lbs on Sunday morning, July 20th. Welcome little one.

:::sigh:::

I miss you, Dad.
It's becoming less and less of a 'sad' missing you...which I know you'll be happy to hear!
I tend to smile more now- instead of always feeling the tears fall.
Don't get me wrong, I still have my moments of utter despair. It just hits me out of the blue at times- like when I picked up a bottle of grape soda at the gas station the other day.

I remembered that, at one point, you loooooved grape soda. So I bought a bottle for the heck of it.
. . .
It seemed like I wouldn't stop crying in the car on the way home...but it turned into a bit of a sheepish grin after several miles, realizing that you were probably up there getting a big kick out of me remembering the soda after all these years.
And just in case you were wondering, yeah Dad...it was darn good. :)

More often than not, though, I enjoy reliving memories with you rather than anguishing that I will never hear your voice again.

The other day, I stopped along a quick hike with a friend to pick blackberries. Scratching my hands & arms all up, I couldn't help but smile the whole time- remembering our blackberry picking side trips where ever we happened to find them. Horseback riding, walking around the 3 mile loop, or on the side of the road on the way to a service call. You could never pass them up!
I remember, Dad...I remember.

I know you would have loved all the berries I picked that day, both the sweet & the pucker-worthy tart. It was really nice to be able to share that with you, as you are now.

So...I'm still here. And you're still there. But that place in between is becoming more bareable for me to visit on a regular basis without worrying that I'll look like a crazy blubbering idiot in the WalMart isles. Then again...who cares if I look like a crazy woman in WalMart, of all places, right?!? :)

My point, is that I'm enjoying my time with you in my current life more and more through the memories that you've left us. I could never thank you enough for those. They're what's getting me though this, albeit slowly.

I smile more often than cry. And that's a start...

All my love,

one of your darling daughters, Sherry Rae

There was a time

This picture of dad reminds me of a time when he seemed so full of life. He must have been around 35 or younger. Life was good. Looking at him I realize how well he fit in in Connecticut. He could go anywhere and be welcomed, in the world. I can't understand how or why life threw so many trials his way. He was a good man, he deserved a good and long life with out all the crude putting it nicely. He looks like you sister swayco. Handsome, beautiful and so positive and to think the seeds of his fate had already been planted. I was still his son, not a child from another marriage, still the apple of his eye. I do like the memories from this time they are of happier man with out the baggage of a hard life. Don't get me wrong dad still shone brightly but it was a different light after we left Connecticut, for me anyways.

is that a slim jim or what?

I am still wishing one of me aunts or uncles will join in with tales of a younger Ray

Greedy Immoral Bastards

They took my Daddy away. Contracting to help our great nation by poisoning its loyal servants!? Ha! I want to grab their shirt collars and rage in their faces.
they made him suffer greatly and now that he is at peace - his life stolen from him
they make us suffer

happy father's day NOT

It sucks Ive been missing dad more lately seeing him here and there . The Robin is still around the house a lot, still all alone singing and a looking. Dad never seemed to worry about us kids,I remember getting lost for what seemed like for hours at a big fair only to have dad find me and give me a big hug. We would always do these reckless things like the rock quarry in Clinton Con. I'm not sure about it but it seemed like we would jump 50 feet or more ,only to climb up the cliff walls to jump again.He taught us how to dive with out getting hurt. A Friend of mine lost his 18 year old son a week ago. Pat was my Friend too a great kid who had no fear . Pat was out riding in the mountains and went off a cliff by accident he fell 600 feet , 4 seconds or so , into some rocks . It would seem I have some thing to be grateful for after all this father's day. The only thing that could be harder than dad dieing so soon would be to lose one of my boys before I go.

I hope every one is doing well Adem