Today marks the first anniversary of the death of my friend, Ray Boehmer. I went to the Taylor County Tap House at 3:00 to have a bitter IPA in his memory. I was joined 1000 miles away at Riggs Brewery by Rob Money, a friend I got to know through Ray.
Having a beer with Ray was like going to a museum, a baseball game, a symposium on human nature, and a walk in the woods, all at the same time. He always had a book he had just finished, or a book he had heard about he was just beginning, that he wanted to talk about. And that was just the beginning. Conversation went in all directions, easily and purposefully.
He had a book list! It was a long list of books, many of them checked off as read already. Topics ranged from bird watching to evolutionary science to death and dying to history to religion and a lot of topics in between. He gave me his list and I carry it with me. I didn’t know he was going to die before we could talk about more of the books.
He had his own opinions, filtered through his liberal social views. By “liberal social views,” I mean he was open and accepting of those viewed by many in our culture as outcasts. His opinions were not the free-floating, self-serving opinions I hear from many (including myself), but rather they were opinions shaped by reading, by listening, by travel, by working with searching college students, and by living through his own hardships. Ray seemed to start with the assumptions, “You’re just fine, now tell me about yourself,” instead of the approach most of us use, “Tell me about yourself and I’ll decide if you’re fine.”
Ray was a compassionate atheist. I don’t know how that worked for us, but it did. We came from similar backgrounds, but he had traveled further down the path away from the church and organized religion than I had. He was curious and accepting of my doubts and questions. I sensed he was waiting patiently for no particular outcome other than for me to get clearer about who I was and what I truly believed. He was a great listener, allowing me to move ever so slowly and gingerly toward clarity.
I am sad that I no longer have him to coax me toward clarity.
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