IMG_5899Ray Boehmer was my friend. He died suddenly two weeks ago. Judy and I made a hastily arranged trip to Illinois to be with his wife and son. She asked that I speak and “officiate” at the memorial celebration, a gathering of friend, neighbors, and colleagues at Riggs Brewing Company. The place was packed. The mood was both somber and festive.

As for me, two primary things came to mind as I prepared to talk about Ray. The first is Conversations with Ray. Some people are interesting but not all that easy to be with. Some people are easy to be with but not all that interesting. Ray was uniquely both. Because of that, every time I lined up a time with Ray to get a beer and sit for an hour or so, I got giddy. I knew I was in for a treat.

Because Ray had wide-ranging interests, an agile mind, and an easy-going and compassionate manner, every conversation with him was educational and enlightening.

One little moment I will miss usually came somewhere in the middle of some topic, Ray would pause, lean in, put his elbow on the table, and point, not at me but in the general direction of truth, and say, “You know, John…” And what followed was something worth hearing. It might be funny, it might be deadly serious, but it was always honest and on point.

On our drive up from Texas, Judy asked me about my last conversation with Ray. I told her when it happened and where we were sitting. She asked what we talked about. That’s a hard question, because the range of any conversation with Ray was expansive. I had to admit, “I don’t remember. But I do know that when I walked away, I said aloud as I almost always said after being with Ray, ‘God, that was great.’” Conversations with Ray were great indeed. Every time.

And then there’s Beer. I got to know Ray on a more personal level when we suffered through watching a lot of painful little league games together. We decided we needed to reward ourselves with a beer in his back yard after games. Up until that time in my life, I had been content with drinking pale, tasteless beverages, the kind produced by the huge breweries available at every bar and restaurant.

Ray introduced me to some of the things he drank. At first I didn’t like them. They were beers that had taste and character, beers you had to pay attention to as you drank them. But gradually, mixed with conversations with Ray, I began to appreciate them, even enjoy them.

Now, even without Ray there, I frequently order his kind of beer. I pay closer attention to the taste, the complexity, the earthiness, and the bitterness. When I order a beer that is more “interesting” than I expected, I always have the thought, “Now THIS is a Ray beer.”

Needless to say, this is not just about beer. What Ray’s beers did for my taste, Ray did for me. With every conversation he added depth and complexity. Being with him necessitated slowing down physically, paying attention to the pace of things, and digging deeper into whatever we were talking about. Beer was our excuse for getting together. Appreciating the moment and deepening the friendship was the outcome. And for that I will always be grateful.