Gravity's Embrace: A True Unsolved Mystery Surrounding An Alaskan Pilot 3t6p7

GRAVITY’S EMBRACE

A True, Unsolved Mystery Surrounding an Alaskan Pilot

Cynthia Young Fackrell

Stellar Bound Publishing

Published in the United States of America

Gravity’s Embrace A True, Unsolved Mystery Surrounding an Alaskan Pilot By Cynthia Young Fackrell Copyright © 2014 by Cynthia Young Fackrell All rights reserved. For use of any part of this publication, whether reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior consent of the publisher, is an infringement of copyright law and is forbidden. Print ISBN: 978-0-9897423-0-6 eBook ISBN: 978-0-9897423-1-3 Cover design by: Cari Campbell Designs www.caricampbelldesigns.com Interior Design by: Fusion Creative Works www.fusioncw.com For more information : www.gravitysembrace.com [email protected] www.facebook.com/gravitysembrace 208-608-4429 Published by Stellar Bound Publishing LLC

www.stellarboundpublishing.com First Printing Printed in the United States of America

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO: My family, my husband, my children, and all of my grandchildren.

They are my life and what keeps me going every day.

To my very best of friends, all of whom have encouraged

and ed me through this project.

To Tim, my precious little brother, may his legacy live on.

And to all those on the journey of healing.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Uned For Chapter 2: Heirs to The Ocean, Earth, And Stars Chapter 3: The Sojourner Chapter 4: Whispers of a Life Chapter 5: Cool, You Can See Clear To The Mountains! Chapter 6: Missing Man Chapter 7: How Long To Wonder? Chapter 8: Break Up Chapter 9: A Summers Obsession Chapter 10: The Unused Net Chapter 11: And So The Sky Shall Be My Home… Chapter 12: Salvaging The Ashes Chapter 13: Ambiguous Answers Chapter 14: The Terrestrial Trek Chapter 15: Collusion? Chapter 16: Miraculous Coincidences Chapter 17: Gravity Is All That Binds Me Chapter 18: Living With Goodbyes

Chapter 19: The Greatest Gift Chapter 20: Flying With Flames: Predictions of a Fiery Death Chapter 21: Flight Plan Closed

INTRODUCTION

This is a story about my younger brother, Tim, missing for 10 months after a visit with my family and myself at our home on Eielson Air Force Base, Alaska. He was flying his own plane from North Pole, Alaska to Homer, Alaska and disappeared en route.

I was inspired to include journal entries from my brother and father’s journals, creating a wonderful mix of my words and theirs. These journal entries will appear as they were written. I have made only minimal corrections. Some names have been replaced with fictitious names for privacy. Also included is some family history so the reader can understand who we are through our background.

Most importantly, I have written this book from my perspective. This is how I interpreted what I experienced talking with different people, as well as all the documentation I have. I realize that each of us see things differently in any given situation, but this is what I saw, felt, and experienced. All this information is what has formed the opinions that I express.

I pondered for years why and if I should write this book. I asked myself over and over, “What are my intentions for writing my story?” I wondered if it was for fame, money, or attention. I wanted to write this story for the right reasons. It kept coming back to the fact that this story had to be told because there are people that need to hear it. It is written for a greater purpose than just selfgratification. It is written to share my experiences and let others know that you can make it through what seems like hell and come out on the other side all right.

Come along on this continuing journey with me.

Photographs referenced in this book can be viewed in color at the website:

www.GravitysEmbrace.com

TIM’S PROPHETIC LETTER

“It happened at 20,000 feet, what many said could never happen or would never. In one split second it happened – a flash of movement and then disaster. One big concussion and it was tumbling hopelessly out of control in space, a ball of flames and metal. The chute came out, but that didn’t matter anyway. It was all over and this man knew it. A few moments ago he was fine, but in those few moments his life had been torn from his hands by a force so powerful it was beyond anyone’s ability. It was his own doom. He had prepared and worked for it all his life and now he had to face it too. It was not a cruel end – for many men find a crueler one.”

Chapter 1

UNED FOR

Watching an airplane disappear into the fog with someone of value to you on board. It really makes you appreciate how enormous this world really is. A person could lose track of someone out there and never see them again.

It’s very, very big, especially in the fog.

Till next time.

Tim’s Journal January 4, 1986

It was early October of 1992 and winter was well underway in interior Alaska. Snow covered the ground by a foot or two. I was happy that my brother, Tim, had taken time to visit us. My children loved having him here. It was delightful to watch him play around the house and in the snow with them. We were all enjoying his visit.

Tim, being a private pilot, owned his own airplane. He bought it the summer before and had done a lot of flying in it. He had flown up from Homer, Alaska, where he was living, to visit us at our home on Eielson Air Force Base.

For the last three days, Tim had been waiting for decent weather to fly back in. I liked having him at my home, and I didn’t want him to leave. Although we had seen him several times during the summer, the visits never seemed long enough. Due to the fact that we lived far apart and his life style, I didn’t get to see him as much as I would have liked to.

Goodbyes – I’m sitting here trying to hold myself up right now. I just don’t know what to think. At times I have hated him – right now I feel closer to him than anyone in my life – he is my brother. What have we in common? – I don’t know – nothing more than a lifetime I guess. I almost want to feel sad – I really don’t want to see him go. Yet I know it is time – some things are to be this way. Without this space between us we could never be close. He is the only person I feel I can appreciate and love more because we go our own ways – Maybe because I know down inside that we are almost always together in spirit – We will always meet again. Funny but I can care about no one else and be so free with them.

The other day I was sitting somewhere, not really even thinking and I realized another strange twist in life – The farther apart my family seems to be, the closer we are.

Tim’s Journal October 11, 1983

The last several days, the weather had been rather bleak. Tim was now waiting for some good conditions he could fly safely home in. Today, October 9th, presented what seemed like a window of good weather that he could finally leave in.

Tim and I quickly gathered up his belongings and packed them in my truck. We proceeded to the airport in North Pole, Alaska where his plane was parked. At approximately 1:15 in the afternoon, Tim’s heavily loaded plane lifted off the

runway and flew towards Homer. I stood and watched as he flew off, his plane growing smaller in the distance. My usual tradition is to stay until the plane is not visible, but this time I told myself that all would be fine, that I would be seeing him soon again, so I got into my truck and drove home. Still, it hung in my mind that I had strayed from my tradition.

At around 8:00 pm that evening, I looked out my kitchen window, observing the cold, white snow piled on the ground, and was overcome with a fearful, concerned feeling for Tim. I was waiting for a phone call saying he was stopped somewhere or home. I called my older brother, Tom, who also lived in Homer, to ask if he had seen or heard from Tim. I told him that Tim had left that afternoon and should be there soon if he had flown straight through. Tom said he had not, and thought he may have stopped in Anchorage. I said “alright”, still somewhat concerned. Maybe he had stopped somewhere for the night. I would wait until tomorrow for a phone call or confirmation of his arrival in Homer. I told Tom to let me know if he heard anything.

I let most of the next day go by without hearing anything from Tim. By now, I was really concerned. I felt something may be wrong and I needed to find him. I wondered if I should call to start a search for him, although he could be stopped somewhere, and fine. I had to grapple with my feelings of fear that he needed help somewhere, although I knew that he was capable of taking care of himself. If I started a search and he was fine, I was worried that he would be angry with me. This fear kept me from making that call.

I can just see it. My spirit is way out there just totally flyin’ along in space… Telephone wires barely nicken’ my wings, grass all blown up and around, exhaust blackening the poles, bein’ so low you look up to see the flowers…

How would you like to dance with the endless power lines of America? Bouncing around in between them. Oh my heart lives there.

And someday, so shall I…

Tim’s Journal 1976

That evening I called my brother Tom once again, hoping that Tim had shown up. Tom had not heard from him, but gave me the name of a young lady in Anchorage he thought Tim might be visiting. This lifted my fears a bit. I called her, hoping desperately that he was there. She said he had stopped on his way to visit us, but was not there now. My heart was filled with despair. She said if he did show up, she would let me know. I had to leave it at that, wait until tomorrow, and continue to hope he would call.

Another day went by and we still had not heard from Tim. I called Tom again, for the third time, hoping he could give me some good news. He could not. I decided that it was time to do something about the situation. I told Tom that I was going to call to report Tim missing. The contemplating about reporting him missing now changed to the need to do something. If ever I thought the river of life I had been on up to now had been a bumpy ride, it was nothing compared to the rapids I was seeing up ahead. Because so much time had gone by and we hadn’t heard anything from him I didn’t care, it was time to take action!

Chapter 2

HEIRS TO THE OCEAN, EARTH, & STARS

Life is just too precious to waste. I must make it as worthwhile as I can in the short time I have to enjoy it.

Cynthia’s Journal November 6, 1977

In the end we all are a product of the DNA we are born into. We have to do with it what we can. Sometimes we have to learn to overcome it and make it into a positive. Sometimes we are dealt a hand that is filled with sorrow and pain. We are asked to rise above it and create a happy life in spite of the tragedies we have to live through.

I feel as if I have demons knocking at my back door. Just the mere fact that they are there keeps me uneasy. I won’t let them all the way in but they are always lurking there. What are they? What do they want? I am always confused and annoyed. How do you put a name on the demons so you can attack them and make them go away? Is it my past, my lost loved ones, my pain, my sorrow? I don’t know. Is this just my opposite of happiness and joy? If this world must always have opposites then must we suffer as strongly as we feel happiness and joy? Can that bring me some peace? Or is it scary to think if I find great happiness great sorrow will also have to come?

Cynthia’s Journal

The family I was born into began in Los Angeles, California where a mutual friend introduced my parents. My father grew up in Colorado Springs, Colorado and moved to California as an adult. My mother grew up in the Carpentaria and Ventura, California area.

I love these two people simply because they are my parents. When I look at their pictures I feel a deep eternal connection to both of them. They gave me life and I am grateful for that every day.

From their marriage in 1951 came four children: My older brother (Tom), a sister that died at three and a half years of age, before I was born (Kathleen), myself (Cynthia), and my younger brother (Tim). We were the typical 1950’s and 60’s family. My mother stayed home and cared for her children. She was an outgoing person who was ired by everyone. She loved to plan parties and oversee them in our neighborhood. She volunteered at various organizations. She was an artist and made posters for our grade school library. She was a good seamstress and sewed clothing and craft projects. She loved working out in the yard, cultivating a garden and flowers of all kinds. Her parents were farmers, so she must have inherited their green thumbs. She was a great cook and made delicious meals for our family, as well.

My father was very proficient in the sheet metal industry and made a good living for our family. Having grown up in the depression era, he learned how to fix just about anything. He was creative with his engineer-type mind and had a real knack for fabricating parts to repair things. He did have a temper, though, that could be rather frightening. In spite of his rough façade, he also had a tender side and would help people with the expertise that he had accumulated over the years.

When I was about six months old we moved to Santa Barbara, California. We

lived in a tract home there until I was seven years old. In 1965 we moved into a house designed and built by my parents in an exclusive area of Goleta (Rancho Embarcadero), California. Goleta is on the north end of Santa Barbara. I have always felt privileged to have been able to spend my growing up years in Goleta.

For thirteen years I lived on an acre lot dotted with ten walnut trees and just a few steps from the Pacific Ocean. This home was very precious to me and endeared me to the ocean. Water has always seemed life giving to me. I love sitting on the sand and watching as the waves come crashing to the shore, this always gives me a tranquil, calm, private place to contemplate life. I always long to be close to water, whether it is the ocean, a lake, or a river. Floating on a calm, cool lake, soaking up the sun’s hot, golden rays, is pure ecstasy for me. At one point in my life I was able to live on the edge of a river and it helped created many water analogies in my mind. If I can’t have the ocean, then I find some body of water to inspire me.

Three years after moving into our Goleta home, in September of 1968, our mother died at age forty-two from cancer. Tom was sixteen years old, I was ten years old, and Tim was just eight years old when our devastating loss occurred.

I when I was eight years old. I was alive. I was whole. A free soul among the souls.

One day I awoke to find I was dead – heaven, hell – something between – I was born to a new world. It had all changed.

Tim’s Journal March 4, 1984

Because of this tragedy each of us went our separate ways to learn how to heal. We never really talked about it with each other. Our father, trying desperately to deal with everything, had a heart attack two years later. After this happened, he retired from work and was a stay at home Dad. He never remarried and did much of his living doing things he felt my mother would like, such as gardening with plants she loved. Our mother’s death profoundly affected all of us, but seemed to affect Tim very severely.

I love you more than you could ever know. I will hate myself forever for letting you die before I could ever tell you this. I could never love anyone anywhere as much as I love you – But you will never know this from me – and so I am the wretch forever.

None will suffice in light of you – no woman can take my love from you. You left me lonely. My father is left lonely for you, my brother’s heart broken. My sister has a daughter you will never see – and she will never know you – much less that I ever did. You left me lonely.

And how can you expect me to ever be happy in light of this? What is there for me if I can never share it with you?

And where is god in heaven if he cannot even let me know you even once? Why must my heart be broken forever?

I spend my time trying to make people happy – and I do it mostly for you, for I understood this is what you wanted to see in people the most. – I do too. And I try to do what I think is right – sometimes I don’t, but I do try. It is something I need help with, I know. But, doesn’t it help a little?

It has been a year – I am a year lonelier for you. Of the fifteen years I have not known you now, none of them could be a good as the ones with you. I spend my time trying to make my father happy – he will be lonely forever without you. It will hurt me for as long as I live to see that. I have been a witness to it all – nothing in life will ever be as sad to me as this – in its light my life is nothing. He loves you.

And so last year I brought you a rose – this year all I wish to give you is a chance to see Lily. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The greatest treasure the world could show you. You would love her. Of all the things in the world I wish I could show you – she is the one.

Me – the little boy will never grow up without you. He will be lost forever. He loves you above all.

Happy Mothers Day Tim’s Journal May 9 1983

This touched my heart, that he felt this way about my child. She was the first and only niece and grandchild at this time in our family. This made her very special to him.

Tim felt that when he lost his mother he lost his love. This gave him a very troubled outlook on life.

I break down, cry, find the wound left so long ago. I loved her so much – and worst of all – I never knew it when it mattered. It is all useless now. The time has

gone, the chance spent. I will have to live with this forever, for she gave me so much and I gave back so little. Of all things, I only wish I knew then what I know now – Oh Lord, things could be so much better if only for that.

I am alone forever. I cry forever. I have friends – they can never know me. They can only know the facade – the mask, for I could never show them the truth. I do not wish that pain upon them. And yes, do they really care anyway? Why should they, it is only another tragedy in a world of endless tragedies always happening to someone else – always someone else.

Meet someone else.

To know love is only to have lost it.

Tim’s Journal May 26, 1983

My father had to take on the role of a single parent. Mother made him promise that he would take good care of us, and he took this role very seriously. The deaths of my mother and sister greatly impacted him and he feared that something might happen to one of us too. He began insisting that whenever we parted we say “see you later” instead of “goodbye”. To him, “goodbye” was too permanent. It meant that he might never see that person again. I grew up feeling my father’s despair and anguish and learned to live life through his eyes, living with the fear of losing a loved one. I adopted this practice of “see you later” with my children, ing this practice down through the generations. I live with the reality that when someone walks out the door they may not ever walk back in.

I live with the sadness that came from losing my mother. For many years I used

to think that it was all a dream, and that I would wake up and our family would all be there, whole, including our mother. I never did wake from that dream - I am still in it. The pain never goes away, it just dulls some as the years tick by. I still have nights that I cry myself to sleep, missing my mother and longing for a hug from her. That 10-year-old little girl without a mother resides with me always.

Over the years I have learned to live with it, and search for meaning and understanding. I would never wish this life experience on anyone, however, I have found some positives in my life because of it. I learned to take care of myself and be strong. One of the most important things that living through this experience gave me is a great respect and comion for good mothers. It taught me to strive to be a good mother to my children.

In 1978 my father decided to sell our Goleta home. New neighbors built their house so that it looked into our back yard, and this really upset Father. Also, Tom had moved out, Tim had graduated from high school, and I was in college. He was getting older and chose to move on. After the house sold, Father, Tim, and I, spent a summer living in Colorado with Tom, who lived there at the time. Father then rented a house back in Goleta. We lived there for three years. Father eventually found a place to build a new home for himself in Paso Robles, California. Tim and I had some difficulty leaving the Goleta home behind, the home where we spent thirteen of our “growing up” years. This made it hard to say goodbye. California holds a special place in my heart with memories of family, friends, beautiful ocean water, sand, landscapes, and many adventures to different destinations. I am very thankful that my parents provided such a fantastic place to grow up.

The exploring and playtime spent in California gave us an appreciation for any other wilderness areas we would encounter in our lives. Perhaps this is what later helped us feel at home in Alaska, with its extreme terrain and beauty. Alaska offered boundless skies to fly in and plentiful water to marvel at.

As water became special to me, the sky became special to Tom and Tim and they both became pilots. In the late 1980’s, to follow in their footsteps, my husband and I went to ground school and took flying lessons but never completed this task. Due to money restraints, we only got in about twenty-five hours of flying time and stopped just shy of doing our first solos. All of us had knowledge of flying a small plane. Tom was the leader and bought his first plane when he moved to Alaska in the early 1980’s and is a wonderful bush and instructor pilot. Tim, in the Air Force briefly, learned to fly there. He later bought his own plane in Alaska as well. My father was very proud that his sons were pilots and enjoyed flying with them whenever he could.

In 1990 I was married with three children. My husband was a medic in the Air Force and we were living in California on Travis Air Force Base.

In that same year I was invited to my brother Tom’s wedding and set about making plans for a two-week vacation, thrilled to have a reason to take a trip to Alaska! I took my son with me, our youngest child, who was not quite two at the time. My husband and two daughters unfortunately couldn’t go because of work and school. I was excited to experience Alaska for real.

Once there, I was privileged to have my brother Tom fly me around the Homer area, where he lived, and see the beautiful scenery that the Kenai Peninsula, Cook Inlet, and Kachemac Bay offered. Viewing Alaska from high in the sky made it even more fantastic, giving it a whole new perspective. My brother loves to take family and friends out on these excursions and find wildlife for them to marvel at. We flew over valleys, looking for bears and moose. I was amazed as I saw trees filled with Bald Eagles. We flew over glaciers, seeing how enormous and deep the crevasses really were. We flew out to and around the volcano Mount Iliamna. It being October, I witnessed the splendor of fall colors. On the hillsides much of the low leaf foliage were a deep, brilliant red. I love the color red so this seemed particularly captivating to me. I was awe struck as he took me on this fantastic aerial tour. How fortunate I was to get to experience Alaska for the first time like this.

I fell in love with Alaska and wanted to experience living there too. After returning home, I described it all to my husband, showed him pictures, and told him we should put in for orders there. Excited as well, he submitted the paperwork asking for a transfer to Alaska. We were not sure if this could happen, because there was a lot of competition to get stationed there, but we had the paperwork in and went on with our life, hoping that we would get lucky.

Be at peace with the world Surely the universe is unfolding as it should Run for the sun Sing the song Have a good time baby Now, time to change Rearrange

Tim’s Journal June 1983

One ordinary day in March of 1991, about five months after putting in for orders to Alaska, I got a phone call from my husband who was at work. He told me that we he had gotten orders to Alaska! I didn’t believe him, I thought he was playing a joke on me. I laughed and said “No we don’t,” and he said “Yes we do”. We went back and forth like this several times before I actually believed him. When I knew he wasn’t kidding, I asked which base we were assigned to. He told me Eielson Air Force Base, near Fairbanks. I have to it that I was a little disappointed, as I had wanted to go to Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage, but I quickly got over that disappointment and became overjoyed with the news.

There was so much to do, so much to get ready to move, so many people to tell about our good fortune!

We got our wish: the opportunity to live in Alaska! We got busy getting everything done to make the long drive from California to Fairbanks. We had bought a 1973 vintage thirteen-foot trailer the year before, so we packed it full and set out to drive the Alcan (Alaska Canada highway). The drive through Canada was long, yet wonderful and beautiful. Every day for six days we saw wildlife such as caribou, mountain goats, mountain sheep, bears, and porcupines. We experienced captivating scenery, and drove past trees, trees, and more trees.

Travlin’

I can beautiful days long ago in the summer of traveling to Colorado on vacation in that warm sunshine. Winding up green mountain es thru beautiful sand I had never seen before. The mystery, the beauty, of all the land in those mountains. Just sitting there in the car watching it all, not having to even move. And ah listening to Cindy’s music made it so much better. Those songs hold the histories and total feeling of the journeys we took. Every time I hear one of them I can sit back and just like one of those flash back T.V. shots, everything goes woshy-wishy fuzzy and I’m there – right there – in that time feeling the same way and seeing the same things. Just think – that’s my history.

And ya know the trip was the greatest thing. Being there was o.k. and fun but, getting there was so much fun, it was such an adventure. It was what I always liked the most when we were on vacation. Being there was just being there – But going there was a journey that was better than any story could write. And still I’m that way when I’m moving I’m happy. To be there is just the end – until it’s time to go back. I love to sit and think and watch the world go by – see what I can.

And then on the radio is the Jackson’s or Chicago and it’s goodbye world, I’m going back to paradise, back to seeing and sampling the worlds treasures – tasting what’s good and beautiful in this place I call my world – my home. Those beautiful summers of vacations relaxing in a sunny car on the way to Colorado.

Being there is a goal reached. Getting there is Life It is adventure and labor in happiness Whether it be to Colorado, -Nowhere, Or a 100 yards of sand. It is all.

Tim’s Journal May 21, 1979

We arrived on Eielson Air Force Base on May 12, 1991 and checked into temporary housing until we were assigned a permanent home on the base. We were now residents of Alaska. It was time to be newly educated to the ways of the extreme north.

Richard Bach once wrote that we all get what we pray for. Observing that the slums of the cities or the joys of an airport are there not because they simply exist, but because people wish them to be so. They wish for what they have more than what they might have if they decided to have or even prayed for it.

And so it is. You get what you pray for. Good or bad, high or low it is your choice – your prayers.

Tim’s Journal October 8, 1981

Living in Alaska now, I was looking forward to experiencing the wonders of the state with Tim and Tom. My brothers were living in Homer and we were in the Fairbanks area. It was a good thirteen-hour drive for us to Homer, but a possible weekend trip. Not exactly close, but still close enough for weekend visits to share time together.

We adjusted to Alaskan life quickly. The long summer days that never turned to night were quite enjoyable. Fairbanks is pleasantly warm during its few summer months. My children quickly made friends in the neighborhood and spent many hours playing outside in spite of the giant, numerous mosquitoes! We spent many weekends camping and fishing. We traveled around the state witnessing unique panoramas, glaciers, the ocean, the histories of different towns, wildlife, and the friendliness of the Alaskan people.

When winter arrived, we learned to wear the layers necessary for the average temperature of Fairbanks, negative forty degrees. Coming from California, we didn’t own that kind of clothing. We had to buy coats, hats, scarves, boots, long underwear, gloves, and all other severe winter weather paraphernalia. The snow piled deep because it didn’t melt between snowstorms. My children learned to build tunnels and find sledding hills in our neighborhood. We would leash our dog, Vanilla, to a plastic sled and she would enthusiastically pull the children around. Snow became a great playground! This was a whole new world to us, a beautiful, white, sparkly, magical habitat.

Yes, Alaska was truly a splendid, exquisite, majestic, yet imposing and

commanding place that we now called home. The river of life had brought me to a new dwelling and deposited me at a fantastic place that felt as wonderful as my California home. I would drift there for a while, taking in all the extraordinary experiences it would offer me.

Chapter 3

THE SOJOURNER

Nothing I could say to you could ever be enough – no gift would repay the debts – no gesture could leave us even. I have come to know you all and I have come to take you for my friends – now I value your company immeasurably. You all have given me friendship in a time when it was needed most.

Tim’s Journal 1983

It was late in September of 1992 and my phone was ringing. I answered it to hear Tim’s voice. He was calling to let me know he would be flying up from Homer. I was surprised and elated that he was coming for an unexpected visit. I waited for him to arrive, always so excited to have anyone come, especially one of my brothers. We had just seen him briefly in August. He, my older brother, and a friend had stopped to stay overnight on their way, flying their planes, to hunt sheep up north. We hadn’t been able to spend much time together since he’d been working all summer. Now that his jobs were done he could stay longer.

Tim was living in an unfinished house in Homer that Tom was building. Tim camped out in the house with his tent and camping gear when he wasn’t out flying or working. It’s a primitive way to live, but the house was all framed in. This was not unusual for many Alaskan residents. There were many that lived much more primitively than this, coming in after long periods of time to bathe at the local Laundromats with pay showers. Many people didn’t have running water and would come into the main grocery store to fill up their own containers.

The faucet was outside on the wall and the water was free. This grocery store was called “Eagle” at that time and was a main hub for most of the residents of that area. Having grown up in suburban California, I was amazed that people lived this way.

Whenever we visited my brothers, we parked our little trailer at the base of the lot that Tom’s house was on. Inside the house he had made a swing by tying a long rope to a high beam in the ceiling with a large sea buoy for a seat. My children loved to play on this. Tim pushed them on it and they laughed and swung back and forth inside the house.

Tim had been working out of the Homer area for the summer as a fish spotter for fishing boats. A “fish spotter” is a pilot that is contracted to fly out over the ocean to spot schools of fish and radio down their location to fishing boats. Tom had been doing this for a number of years already, he taught Tim, and then helped him get work as a fish spotter.

Fishing is a big industry in the great northwest. Many young men and women come to Alaska to work on fishing boats, in hopes to make large sums of money. Tim ed them on a fishing boat the summer of 1991. I asked him to tell me about it. He didn’t go into a lot of detail, but told me that it was not all fun, in cramped quarters and wet all the time. Not something I would volunteer to do, even for the money, but thanks to those who suffer through it!

Hello Roxie

I hope this letter finds you. Well, last time I talked to you it sounded like things were going great. I’m happy for you. I hope nothing’s changed.

As for me, well I’m up here in Alaska for the summer. This spring I worked with my brother spotting herring. We’d fly around and look for herring and then direct the boats to the fish so they could catch them. We even spent one week in a native village called Togiak. The natives were trying to sell us Ivory carvings made from walrus tusks – Beautiful stuff. It was like being on another world. I loved it.

Right now I’m working on a fishing boat called the Miss Olivia. It’s 42 feet long and 14 feet wide and I’ve been on it for two and one half months. I’m ready to get off! We’re fishing off of Kodiak Island for salmon. Sometimes we work twenty hours a day. Today we worked about four hours; we slept the rest of the time. There are four of us on board. My job is to stack the lead lines from the net onto the deck when we bring the net back in. It’s not too hard, but it gets pretty miserable when the jellyfish get bad; they fall off the net onto my head as I work – yuck!

Overall, I guess it’s an o.k. job. I don’t really want to do it again though. I’m lucky because I’ve got a great skipper and we’ve all become friends. My brother says he knows a few boats looking for a pilot next summer so maybe I’ll be a spotter pilot next year.

On days like today we’ve got a lot of free time and there’s nothing to do but read and eat and sleep. I start to go crazy because I can’t even go for a walk. I’m not used to being in prison, so I read some and try to drown my sorrows in a box of Oreos and a case of 7-Up, it’s no use. It’s funny because all of us are getting the same way and it’s getting pretty crazy around here. What’s worse, two of the guys chew tobacco and the third smokes and we’re completely out of tobacco. I’m O.K., of course, as long as I have my Oreos. Hopefully we’ll be done by the first of September or so.

I sit around and think about what it will be like to be free again and to be back in the real world. That gets me thinking about you. I seriously wonder sometimes if

I will ever see you again. It seems that people’s lives go different ways sometimes. We walk through life side by side for a while and then we fade apart. You and Jaxson were my two best friends in college and I haven’t seen you in three years. I wonder if I ever will see you again.

A draft of a letter from Tim’s Journal Summer 1991

In the fall of 1991, with the money he made working on the fishing boat, Tim went in search of a plane to buy. He found one in Salcha, Alaska, just a few miles east up the highway from Eielson, AFB. He came to stay with us to look at the plane. He decided to buy it and we all went with him, including my father who was visiting from California to purchase his plane.

Machine, great beautiful machine standing there. Every part is known – every piece built – understood – by man. In pieces it is nothing – only pieces. Yet put the pieces together –make the parts whole – and it lives. It is more than mere pieces – it is life itself. We stand and look at it there – it is god.

Tim’s Journal Sometime in mid 1980’s

I know the reason Tim bought an Aeronca Champ was because Tom owned one also. He fell in love with them after flying Tom’s.

Funny thing, two months ago a TAC or a Champ or an Aeronca was just another distant shape of an airplane I never knew. Should someone mention the word “airknocker” to me I would have smiled and walked away puzzled at such a silly term. I never could quite what exactly that airplane was that my brother was working on up there in Alaska.

Now we are inseparable. God, I know that plane better than I know most of my best friends. The I faintly related to airplanes two months ago are now inseparable from me and my heart now. For the rest of my life I will chance upon those symbols or the plump awkward curve of a windshield or the dihedral of that wing and I’ll feel just a little lonely for that time. Miss M, well, she’ll be with me forever more I guess. We had a little love affair for ten days, her and I.

And there were times there when nothing worked and I wished she would just leave me forever. Sometimes I hated that plane. And sometimes we were just up there alone. We were just up there in the sky – a little piece of the earth free to live. We were just of the earth, no countries, no ties, just her and I and the earth down there showing me home. God, it’s a beautiful world in a little Champ.

Tim’s Journal 1986

I was waiting patiently for Tim to call, letting me know what time he would be at the airport to pick him up. Since cell phones were nonexistent, keeping in touch while traveling was difficult. Tim always told me when he was coming to visit, that he would call me before he got there, so I would know when to pick him up. Unfortunately even though he always told me that, he usually never called until he arrived. This visit was no exception.

Bradly Sky Ranch was the actual name of this little runway Tim was flying to, but we called it “North Pole runway”. There wasn’t much there, just a dirt runway, some buildings and a few planes. The little runways that are spotted around the state can be somewhat isolated, not much around them. Many don’t even have pay phones. If Tim wanted to make a call, he had to find a house close by or befriend someone at the airport (if someone could be found).

The phone in our home finally rang, I answered it and it was Tim, he was here! He had found someone’s house to call from. I was very excited, grabbed my purse, jumped in my truck, and went to pick him up. I drove from my home on the Air Force Base to the little runway, which is about a ten mile drive to pick him up. We secured his plane, gathered up his things, put them in my truck and headed back to my house.

As we drove back it was evening and dark out. It being September 28th meant that the daylight hours were relatively the same as the “lower forty-eight” (what Alaskans refer to as the continental United States). Even though most people who have never been to Alaska think that it is either dark or light all the time, there is a portion of time in the spring and fall that the hours of light and dark are somewhat “normal”. This happens because each day of the year in Alaska it is either gaining or losing sunlight.

We arrived at my house and my family welcomed him, thrilled to have a visitor, thrilled that the visitor was Tim! We spent the evening enjoying his company. As always, he was excited to see the children. He was delighted and reveled in their carefree enthusiasm for life.

Some say digression is the spark of genius but this is the fourteenth of February and that is (and this is) Valentines Day – a day of Love. So what better day to start a life? None! You say, so today she is born and Lily (my first child) s us – this is good, finally – God – you gave us something. - Thank You –

But of her – she has the promise of an unlimited future and I bid her well with it. And I must say that what I can do to help her I will – I feel I am responsible for her in some ways – I am part of what will shape her – no small thing. And it’s strange, but it fascinates me how much love she inspires – in the world and in me – wow! It is so neet to have this happen – it is magic, and so is she.

So I must say to you Lily – happy Valentines Day and happy birthday. God you hold so much of us with you there, we all love you. If I could only tell you that (it would sure make me feel better anyway) somehow. And my sister – we love you too – all of us. All of you all.

But I wonder if any of them know how much love that little girl far, far away brought me? She brought me to Nessa, and that brings me love, for she loves me – just as I love her.

And so now another good thing is associated with Nessa. For that I wish them all to be my Valentine – to give them my love. To Nessa and to Lily and to Cindy. Happy Birthday

And Happy Valentines Day I Love you all

Tim’s Journal February 14, 1982

Each morning during his visit, Tim graciously walked the girls to school. This was a time the girls dearly loved, trudging through the snow and playing as they made their way to school. Tim went out of his way to do special things like this with them because he loved them so much.

Lily and Jorrie (my daughters) were here and it was much fun. The place (any

place) transforms when they are here. It goes from drab and boring to alive and exciting in a flash of an eye. They embody life itself in their actions. It is something grown-ups forget. Kids are incredible! It must be heaven to be surrounded by such things every day of your life. I wish I could just find it in me.

Love.

Tim’s Journal March 3, 1986

When we got back I mowed the lawn and set up the sprinkler for Lily – she spent an hour constantly bugging me to do it while I mowed the lawn. Once I set it up Lily, Jorrie, Tom and I all got wet and it was funny to see Lily and Jorrie playing in the water like I did once. I how much fun it was too. If only I still felt that way about life now. I envy Cindy and Tom for what they have. They (Cindy) complain a lot, but they’ve got it better than they’ll ever know. I really don’t think I’ll ever have that privilege.(me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me,) After the sprinkler we had bar-b-qued steak, potatoes, salad and beans. What a great meal! I ate too much, however. They had to leave right after, so we cleaned up, said goodbye, and I fell asleep till 6:30. I was just tired today. Plus, it is such a let-down once they leave. It’s funny, they are here and not one spot is left untouched by them. The whole house is just alive with them. Then they leave and you walk around and not a trace of them exists. It’s like it never happened. A few pictures and your memories. You wonder if you’ve been dreaming. It’s just switch, switch – total change in my life. With them here, there is life. Without them? – nothing. It puts Spikes and beer into a bigger perspective. And yes, I love them.

Tim’s Journal March 4, 1986

Our daughter, Jorrie, had a birthday coming up and Tim brought her some

birthday presents. She liked Dalmatians, so he brought her a shirt, a puzzle, and a stuffed animal with that theme on it. She was extremely happy that he had ed her birthday, but he would always nieces’ and nephews’ birthdays. Since I was the only one of the three siblings that had children, my children were very special to him.

Most nights during his visit we sat at our little dinner table playing cards and games with the children. One night Tim, my two girls, and I were playing a card game when Tim asked me to play some Christmas music. I was surprised because it was early October and I was under the impression that he didn’t like Christmas music. I got some of my favorite Christmas CD’s out and started playing them. It felt like we were having a mini, early Christmas together. We laughed, played and immensely enjoyed our time together. One album, John Denver’s “Christmas Like a Lullaby” played through, and Tim asked me to play it again, because he really liked it. I did as he requested, not knowing what this would mean to me in the future.

Every so often, during his visit, a little, yet insistent internal voice kept saying “get your camera out and take some pictures”. I ignored the voice, telling myself each time I would do it later, surely I had plenty of time to take pictures in the future.

Several times, my son Cody jumped on the couch beside Tim and said, “You are going to crash your plane”.

“Cody, don’t say that,” I onished him.

Tim got very serious, looked at Cody and said, “Don’t say that”. He was only three and a half years old, so he didn’t understand that such statements were very disturbing to a pilot. I was puzzled, I didn’t know where Cody was getting these

ideas.

There’s always the sky, I am its prisoner.

Tim’s Journal 1984

Our mother’s side of the family was planning a birthday party for our Grandmother in November, to be held at her home in Ventura, California. They wanted as many of her grandchildren and family as possible to come. Tim and I were discussing this trip. I wanted him to buy tickets at the same time I did, so we could fly there together. He would not commit to buying one, and that bothered me. He was trying to decide what to do for the winter, whether to fly his plane to California or work somewhere in northern Alaska. He hadn’t or couldn’t make up his mind about what he wanted to do with his winter.

Tom called at 9:00 tonight. It’s o.k. there – not here, for me. I’m in near – torment again. Don’t know what to do anymore. It could be so easy to slip into listless, I – don’t care about life right now. No real school, no job, no future. I’ve got to push for direction right now. Got to make those decisions now that will set my life….

Very big responsibility. It scares me. It’s my life and I’ve got to live with these decisions. Help

Tim’s Journal January 11, 1986

Tim needed to take his annual flight check, so he made an appointment to do it while visiting us. I drove him back to Bradly Sky Ranch airport and waited for him. He ed with no problems and the Certified Flight Instructor told us he was a very good pilot.

The Yugo we drove up from California to Alaska had been dead since the first freeze of 1991. Tim, good at vehicle engine repair, helped my husband get it running again. The weather was not ideal for working on cars, cold and snowy, but the two of them had fun working together. They laughed over some of the unconventional methods they used to fix things.

It was so nice to have Tim with us during our day-to-day activities. We went to Fairbanks several times to do our shopping and go out to eat. Tom’s birthday and other family were coming up, so we searched for birthday presents. It made sense to shop in Anchorage and Fairbanks because they are the largest cities in Alaska. Homer is a very small town, and Tim was taking advantage of the selection in Fairbanks and the Air Force base stores.

For twelve days we were honored with Tim’s company. We shared the hours talking, laughing, watching movies and TV, cleaning, cooking, eating, helping the children with homework, and just enjoying each other’s companionship. We were surprised that his stay had grown into that many days, the longest he had ever stayed with us, but no one was complaining. As far as I was concerned, he could stay and live with us and I would have been perfectly happy.

During these moments in time our rafts were floating calmly and the river was flowing smoothly.

Chapter 4

WHISPERS OF A LIFE

Soul unbroken Heart unscathed Out of the fire Into the eyes of God The unbeatable Untouchable Unlimited Individual

Tim’s Journal 1984

Tim was born at Cottage Hospital in Santa Barbara, California on July 7, 1960. He had a fair complexion, blond hair, and hazel eyes, unlike Tom and I, who have olive complexion, dark brown hair and brown eyes. Tim greatly resembled our father when comparing childhood photos. This may have endeared him to our father more, or perhaps because he was the youngest.

IT IS I

Once upon a time, long ago, and right here – it happened.

They say it was 1960 and all was still. The early morning air was probably foggy, the sun just up and a new day was beginning. And there suddenly through the fog, just by chance the clouds of all mankind faltered and a hole ever so small was torn into that mass. Without purpose or direction and purely by chance the light of heaven shown through that hole and onto a spot it fell.

No man saw it, no man understood it and no man felt it. But it was there. It left no trace, no mark on the world that any soul has ever yet seen. But times are still young and who can know what future that light can ever hold. What changes and affects it may wreak on our world. Many things have changed since that day. 20 times our earth has circled the sun. Some say the world has become none but worse – some say better – who can ever say?

Though weak the light of heaven may be, it is stronger still than the darkness of our own fears. The future can one day tell us all of what will become of it.

But I was there. I did not see the light, nor feel it. But it touched me. By fate or plan, none will ever know. I have been touched by the truth. It is I who can and shall tell our future. To lead the world to the tomorrow that is ahead. I have the truth. The light showed me what must be and what shall, now the world follows me.

IT IS I

Tim’s journal April 16, 1979

Tim’s life was filled with many loves. Airplanes and flying, Dune Buggies, GMC motor homes, traveling, camping, fishing, Corvair cars, bicycling, and college. He graduated from Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, California in 1985 with a Bachelors degree in Aeronautical Engineering. I’m sure he could have added many other things to this list.

Do you know my interests in life? There are Corvairs, GMC motor homes, a few airplanes, the wish to own the world (If only to give it away), you, and the chance to be alone.

Two Ideas: 1. In all the world, the cheapest thing of all is talk. 2. Intelligence is inversely proportionate to the noise one makes

What I really am: Tired, lonely, quiet, frustrated, mad, selfish, immature, jealous, thinking, and ah yes – a loner.

What I wish to be: Happy, loved, busy, thinking, helpful, quiet, content, and alone except for a few people I love.

Tim’s Journal July 1983

Tim had the creative engineer mind like our father. He built his own Dune

Buggy, frame, engine, and all. He bought and partially restored a Chevrolet Corsa Corvair car (I believe it was a 1965 model). He also loved to travel. He and our father took many trips around the United States in our father’s 1976 GMC motor home.

Long trips along Camino Cielo dreaming of the day when it all might be mine. Dreaming of how lovely the present really was. Twisty Corvair roads in the sunshine of late afternoon. Puts my cares away every time. How terribly lovely it was…

Tim’s Journal May 31, 1982

He was a member of CAP (Civil Air Patrol) from a young age, which further fueled his dream and strong desire to become a pilot.

The day is gone. I have read Dune and the feelings of special purpose and of overwhelming fate are upon me again. What am I? So much potential – is God afraid of me? I see the sky and I know my needs – to fly. It is my destiny. I can feel it. All the rest of this is noise.

I must fly. I am raw potential

Tim’s Journal January 23, 1986

Girls. Girls. Today I’m wondering if they’re just an excuse, a diversion from

what I need the most – Flying.

Or are they what really matters? Are airplanes the excuse? This question and my inability to answer is the fundamental problem in my life. Get a life.

Tim’s Journal February 11, 1986

Oh yeah. I went to the airport at S.L.O. [San Luis Obispo] and watched the airplanes a while. I belong there.

Tim’s Journal March 27, 1986

After graduating from high school in 1978, Tim went to Santa Barbara City College. He then applied to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo.

I have been accepted here to college- an honor few receive. This is to me like the first step to the future I will inevitably seek out – and yes I will. This is like the beginning of my life right here – it is the commitment to the fact that I have a future and I will use it. Use it to build a future for all the world, to help the people out there to make this a better place. To be happy. So this is where my life starts and the out-put exceeds the ingoing – The future has begun…

Tim’s Journal October 22, 1981

While in college, he lived in off-campus student housing. He had a close group

of friends that he spent time with during his four college years. He lived in student housing two years, then moved back in with our father in Paso Robles commuting the thirty miles south to Cal Poly.

After graduating from Cal Poly, Tim was hoping for a job as an engineer, but ended up working at a sheet metal shop in Paso Robles. He was less than enthused about this job, but needed a way to make money. He finally decided to the Air Force as a pilot.

Dreamed of learning to fly last night. My destiny

Tim’s Journal February 10 1986

In 1987 he was accepted into the U.S. Air Force as an Officer to become a pilot, attending Officer Training School (OTS) in San Antonio, Texas. Our family was proud of him for pursuing his dream. My father and I and my two little girls went to his OTS graduation in Texas, where he beamed with pride over his accomplishment. It was a happy, fulfilling time in his life.

I have been a carpenter, a mechanic, a metal worker, a plumber, an engineer, a machinist, a designer, a writer, and ah yes, a student. Now it seems I shall be a pilot.

I was born on the western coast of what is known as America. I attended the schools there, walked the beaches and stared out into the Pacific, past what was my home. The victim of the most horrible and wonderful life, I lived and died there. Now it seems I have survived it to find myself alone and empty.

I love my family, my two nieces, a woman named Fiona and a host of friends. I, like most in my time, own an automobile. I also own a calculator and clothes. The family, nieces, Fiona, friends – I love them. This seems important. I don’t understand why, but this seems terribly important to me.

The world assaults me, from time to time, with my own actions. I am always surprised to find I gain strength from the past that has weakened me the most. The pain that cripples me is my greatest strength. Weakness that is strength. I wonder at life.

It is possible to commit no Mistakes, and still lose That is not a weakness, That is life. All good things must be paid for with bad things

Tim’s Journal 1987

After OTS graduation Tim was sent to Columbus AFB in Mississippi for a year of flight training. While in the Air Force he was taught how to fly a small plane and then moved on to T- 38 jet trainers.

Can’t you just see him out there – all alone, smiling laughing – living.

Out in the grass and the wind, the clouds, the telephone poles skipping merrily by as his heart beats the only true joy he really knows. You see the legend in the little boy – the cruel monster in his eyes. Yet there, out there only the heart is free. Fear, pain, loneliness, - they are left with his company. There – all alone – he knows joy, freedom – happiness.

And God smiles – his little black sheep finds a home.

Tim’s Journal Date 1987

Sadly, in February of 1988, his dream of being an Air Force pilot ended. For a reason unknown to me, the Air Force wanted him to become a navigator instead, and Tim declined. He was devastated and it took a long time to get over this rejection. Worried, I spoke to him about it. He told me that he felt that he had let us all down. I let him know that it didn’t matter to me what he did, I would always love him, and was not ashamed of him because of what happened. He would always be my smart, cute, loving little brother.

So this is it. This is the end. UPT crawls to a stop for me and I am now free from it all. Good? Bad? Time – of all things – will tell. I gained my commission in April of 1987. What a wonderful time. Two hours, ten minutes and twenty-three seconds ago I lost it. I am alone now. Back to normal, eh? And so it goes…

Good Luck.

Tim’s Journal February 24, 1988

As for me, I really don’t know what to say. Last time you heard from me I had the entire world by the you-know-what, now I don’t know, but I think things have sort of reversed. I was washed out of flight school in February. So it goes. I thought I was dong O.K. – but what I think really doesn’t – and didn’t – matter to the Air Force. So it goes. They offered me other jobs, but I decided that now I’m just looking for a job as an engineer. What a life! It wasn’t too bad after I got out of the Air force, actually. I packed my stuff up and wandered around the U.S. for a few months. I just kept going until my money ran out. It was great fun. I went just about everywhere. God this is a beautiful planet, give or take a few billion people!

Tim’s Journal August 1988

He left Mississippi and toured the United States on his way home to California. He moved back in with our Father, and worked in the sheet metal industry again. In 1991 he went to Alaska to work for the summer with Tom, who worked as a bush pilot and fish spotter.

As much as I would have loved to have had long, deep conversations with him, this did not happen because Tim was a quiet person by nature. I never really knew what he was thinking. Once in a while he would grace me with a few of his thoughts, but mostly kept them to himself. He felt that no one really understood him.

When I am quiet, I’m not lost – I’m absorbing more than you could believe – I’m living more than almost anyone else – you just don’t see it.

Tim’s Journal August 12, 1983

Being healthy was important to Tim. He bicycled, swam, ran, and played volleyball to keep his body fit. In his peak cycling years he had his fat-to-body ratio checked and he was as lean a person could be.

When we visited my father and Tim in Paso Robles, Tim would often be on an all-day bike ride, many times riding one hundred miles. My girls would be eager to have him back to spend time with them. It seemed like forever to them, having to wait for him to get home. They would go stand by the side of the road and holler, “Tim! Come home!” over and over, thinking he would hear them and quickly return.

Tim was, of course, interested in females. He had a tumultuous affair with love and it always seemed to elude him. He wrote of many loves in his journal and the anguish they caused him.

Binding love Blinding love. All I know can be swept away By its grace When I see you – it all is.

Tim’s Journal May 1983

Flying without wings

I’ve decided to sit down and write to you now because I know I shall never know you. You like so many before and surely so many after will simply fly through my life and leave me here with your memory. It’s a funny thing; but I don’t know whether that is good or bad. I love you. One of the many and I love you. It’s also a funny thing that you’ll never know that; the heart, strongest of all things, is always the hardest to see and understand. You will compromise and I will lose you to the things which are readily seen.

I am a flying soul. It seems I must fly from anything that approaches me too close. Of all the things I want, I always seem to end up insisting I be alone. I keep saying I will give my heart to only one; I often wonder if I’m going to give myself even that chance. Why does it matter? This letter was suppose to be for you – the creature of my heart – now.

Tim’s Journal 1984

A worm in my head. I ate an apple, left a seed, got a worm in my head. And now I feel it feeding on me. Slowly chewing my brains. Leaving only insecurity, pain questions in place. I had logic. I gave up love. I now have a headache in my heart. Questions in my mind. Logic, love. They just don’t mix. The worm eats the logic, leaves the love. I hate love, it leads to loneliness.

Tim’s journal 1990 or 91

One of the most intriguing things about Tim was his love of the stars. He loved looking up at them, loved the wonder they conjured up. He felt his true home was among the stars.

Funny how some little things can seem to make the world such a friendly place – or such a lonely one. Take the stars up there. Have you ever looked out over the ocean and seen the stars up there slowly sliding down into the water way over there at the horizon? Ever wonder what the waves were from? – now you know. Yet somehow, of all the things I grew up around, it’s those stars that seem to drag me back the most. Viewing them from somewhere else makes me feel so out of place – almost lost. I wonder if maybe sometimes I should start choking like a fish out of water because of this. Then sometimes I wonder if maybe it’s the stars themselves I’m homesick for. I can never go back and I will never again try, but still those stars are there – with that beach – that home. It was home – a wonderful place it was. I guess all that’s left are the stars.

Tim’s journal January 13, 1983

I stand here looking into an abyss above my head – Can I see forever? Can I see myself? Can I even see at all? There is someone out there I would like to meet, but in that infinite haystack where can I look? Those stars can be so comfortable sometimes. But, at times they can also destroy you. There’s just too much out there to hold on to.

What am I doing here on this, out of the billions of places to be? Why here? I’m missing something, I just know it. And why can one see stars millions of billions of miles away and not into the heart of someone just next to them?

Tim’s Journal August 30, 1983

Chapter 5

“COOL, YOU CAN SEE CLEAR TO THE MOUNTAINS”

Ya know it’s a funny thing how we hide from the sky, from our very home. We put roofs over our heads, we wear hats, buy motor homes or tents, we have even outlawed convertibles from our society. We all run from the sky. We build, we suffer, we spend our fortunes for a roof to hide under. A place to cower and entrap ourselves from the elements of our skies. We hate the rain and snow and cold and hot – yet we have never seen them face-to-face. Even the glass of our transportation shields us from our home. Most of the people of our land have never even known the stars. Oh what a great world - what great lessons the stars could show us. Of all there is to learn from the stars we know so little – so busy we are to hide from them. The sky is our life yet we consider it our greatest enemy and our greatest fear. It is our gateway to the future, yet it is the last place we look and hardest for us to see.

Tim’s Journal December 31, 1978

The morning of Friday, October 9th was as normal as any other day in interior Alaska, cloudy with gray skies and snow covering the ground. The morning started as usual, the girls getting ready for school. After breakfast they donned their snow gear and set out on their walk, Tim accompanying them as he had each morning. As they were walking, Lily asked him “Are you going to leave today?” and he said “I think so”. She told him, “I don’t want you to leave today.” He responded with a gentle “We’ll see”. She was troubled because of the things

Cody had been saying to Tim about crashing his plane. Neither girl wanted Tim to leave and made a point of letting him know it.

Woke up in Paso Robles (really?). The world traveler is briefly at home between moments of adventure as he prepares for another journey into the American (Mer-I-Ken) wilderness.

Tim’s Journal September 2, 1986

Tim had been trying to leave for several days, but bad weather had kept him here. As the morning progressed, Tim was on the phone getting weather from the AFSS (Automated Flight Service Station). It was 9:30 a.m. and he was told that weather was today, again, not optimal for flying VFR. Tim was a VFR pilot, which stands for Visual Flight Rules, and is the basic pilot rating. It requires a pilot to operate an aircraft in clear visibility only. When calling for weather the pilot is informed of the visibility that would be safe to fly in. A pilot can also be trained IFR (Instrument Flight Rules), learning to fly using only instruments (no visual references). Tim was disappointed that he could not fly and said he would check back in a few hours. He was eager to leave, sitting idle at our home wasn’t his way. He wanted to get back to Homer and his projects.

Explosions rocking my soul lately. I fight hard to keep myself stable thru it all; yet I find that the harder I fight the more unstable the situation becomes. I am really confused, angry, and mostly frustrated.

Still, I keep feeling my mains touching down in that ever so perfect squeak that comes when one touches just inches before the other – just to let you know it’s really flying and not just falling. Hands on the controls, heart on the life; darn, I love this feeling. If only it was real…

I met a machine today. I was terribly upset; growling my way to school and suddenly, in front of me was a car – it was a really beautiful car. And it talked to me. It was showing me myself – a human machine. Somehow machines, the most subtle of all things, can be so obvious in ways when people, who are so terribly blatant animals can never get a point across.

Tim’s Journal 1984

In between calls about the weather, as I was doing my household chores, Tim was watching movies. We are big fans of the comedian/actor/author Steve Martin. We watched him on Saturday Night Live and followed his career from there. Tim was watching a movie he starred in called “L.A. Story”. He watched it twice, telling me that he really liked it. The movie had a mystical feeling to it and he seemed to connect with it on some level. The electronic talking billboard, perhaps, sparked his fascination with machines that could talk to him.

During his visit, Tim excitedly told us that he had purchased an older van through an auction, one that had been a company’s work vehicle. It provided him with his own personal road transportation in Alaska; something he hadn’t had. The van represented another source of freedom for his new life in Alaska. It was big enough to sleep in and carry all of his personal items, plus tools, and anything new he acquired. Tim was excited about it and told us that he planned to modify it to fit his needs. He wanted to get back and start working on it. I was happy that he was now feeling at home here in Alaska.

The minutes ticked by, and it was now 11am. Tim was talking with weather service for a second time, asking for an update on the weather to see if any improvements had occurred or would occur. I overheard him both times as he talked with the weather service, giving me a good idea of what was going on. I had overheard him having these conversations for the last couple of days now.

He was getting increasingly more anxious to leave as the days went by. Ultimately, during this second call, he got a weather report that he thought would give him a window of clear weather to get from North Pole to at least Anchorage.

The previous winter, Tim had flown his newly acquired Aeronca Champ from Alaska through Canada to California. After visiting with us, he made it to Beaver Creek, Yukon, Canada, which is about 300 driving miles, when he started having engine problems and returned to North Pole. He had to have some extensive engine repair done to his plane that delayed his trip and extended his stay with us. After the repairs were done he flew all the way, documenting his trip with no problem, and arrived in Paso Robles, California safe and sound. This was a testament to Tim and his flying skills. It wasn’t as if he had never flown in winter conditions before. Flying from Alaska to California in a small plane in the winter is no small feat. So flying from our home in October with snow on the ground was familiar to him.

Tired, lonely, depressed. I’m walking to the library – I’m mad. Frustrated? Yeah, lets try frustrated too.

Then, suddenly, there’s a machine there. Did it find me or did I find it? It speaks to me like machines always seem to speak to me when I find them beautiful. It says “why do you care? People are only machines too. You find beauty in something that only work and time can give you. Yet you grieve when it is not yours for free”. I only look at the machine and nod. I would like to ask how much work, yet I know there would never be an answer. Answering is too easy.

And as machines always seem to do to me it looks right into me. Decides to show me what I am. “You expect her to see your heart, that’s one place that people are not machines – they cannot see the obvious”.

And the fatal blow, “you are different. Peace of mind and heart cannot be found the way those around you find it – your destiny lies in me, the machine. Like the sailor and the sea, you are mine”.

Tim’s Journal May 24, 1984

Tim, hearing that there was a small window of clear weather, decided to take a chance and leave. He quickly gathered his possessions as I got my son ready. My husband, just home from working a swing shift at the Emergency Room on base, was still up, so I asked him if he wanted to go with us. He declined, and headed upstairs to sleep. We loaded Tim’s things into our truck, and Tim, my son, and I drove off for Bradly Skyranch Airport in North Pole. We stopped at a gas station, filling his four five-gallon gas jugs that he would take with him. As we were driving along the highway to the airport he commented, “Cool, you can see clear to the mountains,” referring to the Alaskan Range far off in the southern distance. I looked out to my left and saw the mountains, clear and visible, and agreed with him. We both felt confident about the clear weather, because at that point it was unobstructed for many miles and gave a clear indication that a pilot could fly quite some distance safely. This meant that a VFR flight was possible.

What is a mountain? Why can it be so far away and so small sometimes and yet at others so huge and intimidating?

Tim’s Journal 1983

Once at the airport Tim proceeded to get things ready to pack up his plane. He took everything out of the plane and placed it out on the ground. Planes are weight sensitive so it is important their cargo is packed with the load properly distributed, in order to keep it balanced. Also, each plane has a weight limit, so items carried should not exceed it. I watched him load the gas jugs, several cases

of Marvel Mystery Oil (a product to keep his engine running smoothly), some jeans that were a birthday present for Tom, and the rest of his gear.

Additionally, Alaskan pilots are required to carry emergency rations and equipment in their planes. While visiting us, Tim bought M.R.E.’s (high calorie dehydrated Meals Ready to Eat) and a pistol grip shotgun. At that time in Alaska, carrying a gun was a mandatory requirement. Watching and helping him load his plane I knew what he carried, and how it was loaded.

We could see another storm coming in from the north and Tim was in a hurry to get ahead of it. When he was ready to leave, he told me that if the weather got bad he would turn around and come back. My heart did a little leap of joy when he said this, if he came back I would be happy to have more time with him, however, I just shrugged it off.

Having two brothers with planes, I had done this many times. I have been to many small airports to pick them up and send them back on their way. I always had concerns for their safety while flying, but could not dwell on them. This time didn’t feel any different. I fully expected he would get where he needed to be.

He flies, He is flown. He is pulled by forces within that stem from a world about him – ion exudes from his very soul. ion for life, freedom, happiness – Peace.

His decision. Greatness?

It is in his hands.

Tim’s Journal January 22 , 1986

Tim and I said, “See ya later” and he gave me a hug. We embraced tightly for a few seconds for our goodbye. The hug from him felt very warm and filled with a great love. I didn’t want him to leave, but knew he must be on his way. We stepped apart. It was time for him to be off.

I am strapped in, ready to go – my mind long since having abandoned the fantasies and dreams of my life – I am living them now.

Tim’s Journal November 1981

He climbed into his plane and got ready to fly. I waited as he talked on the radio and taxied out towards the runway. Getting approval for take off, I watched him go down the little dirt runway and lift off into the air. I felt as if it was just another visit and I would see him again soon. If I had any fears I pushed them aside, I would not acknowledge any negative feelings.

Beware; for the power of freedom may also be the power of death. The line is fine and the boundaries are unknown. Only you can decide where to turn back. Judgment is the key to everything you do and everything you do will be done well if your judgment is wise and accurate.

Tim’s Journal December 30, 1978

His journey for that day had started. High up into the sky he flew, into a future no one could --or wanted-- to foresee.

Chapter 6

MISSING MAN

I wanna go. I wanna go so bad it hurts. My mind lives on the subject and I ache for the chance. I want to see this world from the outside. I want to be “out there” looking in. I would give almost anything to have the chance to see things that way. To travel around the universe and just see it all. I would like to be like the sailors of the days of long ago. Seeing the world for the first time of all. To travel places where no other men have been. I want to be the sailor of space, to go everywhere there is in all of this. Just to see.

It’s just this, the world has grown too small for me. This land is beautiful yes, and it shall forever be my home, but I see no great challenge here. No great mysteries here to find. All I see is the stars in all their wonder.

And ah the stars….

Tim’s Journal March 9, 1979

Later that afternoon, both of my girls came running home from school as fast as their little legs could carry them, hoping to see Tim. Concerned that he had actually left, they wanted him to stay another day. What they found was an empty space where Tim and his belongings had been.

Any pilot is wise to always file an official flight plan whenever taking flight. This is a protection in case a flight deviates from its path, or worse, disappears en route. Should be lost, an immediate search will be activated.

Tim flew off Friday afternoon without filing an “official” flight plan. Tim left me with his “unofficial” flight plane, not an unusual practice for Alaskan pilots. They’ll often give their flight information to a friend or family member, rather than talking to air control. The confidant would be responsible to report the plane missing if it didn’t get to its destination on time.

I fear I’m too casual with life. I live without making a big deal out of anything. I just live – so dull. You’ve got to be a little wild and crazy once in a while. You’ve got to let things shake you up sometimes.

Tim’s Journal December 31, 1978

Two and a half days had gone by, and no one had heard from Tim. By now I was extremely concerned and upset. I called Tom, one more time, Tim was not there. After discussing the situation once more, I told him I was going to call to start an official search. At 9:00pm, Sunday, October 11th, I made the call. I had never made a call like that before. I got the phone book, thumbed through the pages, looking for an agency and a phone number to call. I found the Federal Aviation istration (FAA) and dialed the phone. A man answered and I told him I needed to report my brother and his plane overdue at his destination. He asked a lot of questions and I gave them all the information I had. He asked for Tim’s plane identification number (tail number), what color his plane was, what he was carrying in his plane, when he left, where he was headed, age, and any other detail I could think of.

It felt so strange having to be the one to call in my brother missing, something I

did not want to do, still, I knew that I had to do it. My heart broken, I pleaded, “God, don’t do this to me, find my little brother – Please!”

I went to bed that night knowing I had started something big. I was still worried Tim was fine, parked somewhere, and when found he would be really angry with me for the false alarm. It was a hard call for me to make with this reality nagging at me, however, it was done and things were in place for a search. I could only hope that he was safe somewhere. If so, I would deal with the anger later.

Where could Tim be? That was the biggest question. There was a lot of area to cover, from North Pole to Homer, close to six hundred miles. Was there any chance of finding him quickly?

Sunday, two days after Tim’s departure, the weather was very bad, with a storm that was bleak and snowy. On this day, another pilot decided to fly his girlfriend and his parents from Fairbanks to Anchorage. Something happened that afternoon, and they disappeared into the unknown. A search was started for this plane also. There was a general idea where they had problems. There had been a radio transmission and a sighting of their plane near the town of Talkeetna, along the Parks highway. Because both searches were called in on Sunday, searchers thought Tim left on Sunday, not Friday, and got caught in bad weather too. Tim had left two days earlier with very different weather conditions. One search, involving two different planes, unfortunately, led to confusion and mixed up facts.

Saw a newspaper – 21 people died in a plane crash in Mexico. It was on the third page, small print. Stupid world.

Tim’s Journal January 31, 1986

On Tuesday October 13, a small article went into the Fairbanks newspaper stating that the Civil Air Patrol was searching for two overdue airplanes. They didn’t give any names, just the colors and kind of planes missing, where they left from, and their destinations. The next day another small article was printed. There were still no names given. The Alaska State Troopers and Civil Air Patrol were concentrating their search in an area on the Parks Highway because of a call from someone who heard what they thought might be a plane with engine trouble. On Thursday another very small article giving names and ages of people on both planes and that they had turned up no trace of them was in the paper. On Friday an article was printed that was mostly about the other plane and the coworkers and family of its occupants, although it also talked about the time and effort spent searching for the overdue planes. Many people besides the official searchers were involved in flying and looking for both planes. These 4 articles were all that were printed dealing with Tim’s disappearance at this time.

After the search was initiated I talked with many people from the different agencies involved. Being caught in an emotional whirlwind, I didn’t know how many. I took notes to help me keep track of everything. The FAA called back, asking me questions, some about his log books, and records of his plane. I had no idea where they would be, assuming they were with him. One difficult question they asked was about his mental state. I told them I had been with Tim for the last twelve days and hadn’t detected any suicidal tendencies. He seemed fine to me, ready to keep living his life. I was annoyed that they even asked about this. What prompted them to even ask such a question? I suppose that it is something, among the many questions, that they have to ask.

My husband and I were asked to listen to the recordings of Tim’s two calls to the Automated Flight Service Station from Friday, October 9th. We went, curious to know the exact conversation, and verified that it was indeed Tim. The agency wanted to prove that the employee who talked to Tim had given him correct information. We were all trying to figure out why Tim would have left if the weather wasn’t conducive to flying VFR safely. I had been there when he made the calls and we’d talked afterwards. I knew how he had interpreted the

information, feeling there was a window of time before the next storm came in. Besides that, the two of us took note of the weather as we drove to the airport. It was clear at that time, and I told the officials this.

After the first few days of so many phone calls, I didn’t really know what else to do. The main search headquarters, the R.C.C. (Rescue Coordination Center), was in Anchorage. Other than hoping for phone calls, it was a sit and wait situation. I wanted to, but could not make the six-to-eight hour drive to Anchorage at that time. It was definitely winter now, and the roads would be unpredictable at best. I didn’t know if being there would be of any benefit either, and I couldn’t leave my young children.

Like the Little Prince, you are gone and I am all alone.

Tim’s Journal 1984

From Homer, Tom and his friends ed the search with their planes. He was able to fly to Anchorage to collaborate with search coordinators. I began to feel useless at that point.

I had been the one who cared enough to start the search and it was hard to go on with my every day life, feeling so left out of this major search for my little brother. I wanted to be involved in it, but there was nothing I could do.

I was feeling lost. Who should I talk to? What should I do? Those I tried to get information from just left me more confused. None of the agencies I communicated with gave me any helpful suggestions. I was very frustrated. I thought that I would be automatically informed of any updates, but instead had

to call for any new information.

Why, why, why, why? Why am I always left sitting here alone when it is all over? – Or when it is happening for that matter? I have so much to offer, so much! I am alone, always alone. Is it me? Is it them? Is it my choice or destiny? Is this all chance or plan? No answers come forth, no assurance in the darkness, no help.

God let it be that we are free And hold my hand forever A flash before your eyes No more and she is gone The little boy becomes an old man The old man alone It’s raining again I am crying again God is crying with me

Tim’s Journal February 27 , 1979

Every day I hoped to hear some good news. I was living on the edge, the edge of a crevasse, hoping that I wouldn’t fall off into the dark abyss of bad news. I guess no news is good news sometimes. Perhaps the wilds of Alaska had swallowed Tim up and were waiting to return him to us alive and unharmed. I was living each day with hope and faith that my brother would come back to us,

and then we would all revel in that joy. Instead, time wore on and I carried the heavy burden of the unknown.

One Sunday at church, hymn books were opened and as we started singing, the word ‘brother’ appeared. As I started to sing this word, all of the emotions of Tim’s disappearance came flooding to the surface, and I could not contain them in public any longer. I dropped the book, ran to the bathroom, closed myself in a stall, and wept uncontrollably. Next to my mother’s death, the whole ordeal was undeniably the most difficult thing I had ever endured. No one knew the pain it caused, how terribly wounded I was. A friend came in to help me, but there was nothing she could do. No one could take away my suffering.

One morning, I had a dream. In it, I was laying on my living room floor. My brother Tom was standing at the top of the stairs, coming from the front door. Tim came up the stairs, past Tom, and walked over to me. He knelt down and began hugging me. Right then, I abruptly woke up, startled. I immediately began reflecting on the dream, realizing I had actually felt him hugging me. I was amazed that I’d had the physical sensation of being hugged. Tim didn’t say anything, just hugged me. I recalled that he was wearing his one-piece Carhartt suit. He appeared, and the word that came to mind, was haggard. He looked tired, with several days of beard stubble. I interpreted the dream to mean he would be coming back alive, and that I would be taking care of him. This gave me a reason to believe I would see him again.

We learned that any official search has a two-week limit. If the missing person(s) can’t be found within those two weeks, the search is called off. Once called off, it is left up to family and friends to continue the search at their own expense. All the time and cost of the official search, if unsuccessful, seems to amount to nothing. Family and friends are left to wonder, with no explanation.

Sadly, on October 23rd, after twelve days of an enormous, almost statewide exploration, the official search was ended. It had been fifteen days since Tim had

flown out of our lives, and we were no closer to knowing where he might be. We were left on our own, stunned. It was as if everyone said, “It’s over, we’ve done all we can. Good luck.”

Tim had become a “missing man.”

A bad day.

Turned on the radio and heard the words “Space Shuttle: - I knew without being told. Bad news travels fast. Maybe it was an imbalance in the force or something, but I knew. It was finally the time when something went wrong. As the man said: “sooner or later we’re going to lose one of these things”. I guess it had to be sooner. Damn.

So why should I care? If I was in a bad mood before this, it wasn’t anything compared to my mood the rest of the day. I felt terrible. I’m still in a state of shock. Of all the disasters I have seen, this one somehow affects me. The others were just hype – this one was real. I don’t know why but it affects me personally.

But even in me there is an element of pain. I have spent my life putting faith in such things as that ship. Four years I work to be regarded as able to help build such machines – for what? Even with the best money can buy they blow it. It’s like a loss of faith in people I have idolized for many years. They and their discipline have let us down. I feel empty. All that work to murder seven people. Someone screwed up.

So I watch the replays over and over – I die with them – we die with them. We lost a lot today. Pride, faith, innocence – people.

Engineers really are just people, I guess.

Practiced volleyball after that for a while at the tennis courts. It was fun because I was doing it alone and a girl came by and wanted to practice too – so we did and talked all the while. It’s fun to meet new people like that – new perspective, new lives to know, new beauties to see in everyone, new views of yourself. People aren’t half bad animals. After that I came home, ate, watched the shuttle explode over and over and this. Wasted day – day wasted. People wasted. What a waste. Think of their kids. They’ll be just like me now; in shock for life – wandering through life looking for answers and love that is lost forever….

Goodbye Challenger. You frustrate me

Tim’s Journal January 28 , 1986

And Tuesday, it is still bothering me. I’m still in shock. I can’t get the situation straight in my head. I can’t cry about it, yet I‘m crying inside about all this. I’m going to explode soon….

Why do I care about seven people I never met? Why do I feel anything anymore?

But it’ll all end today right? I can finally rest my heart – broken or no. Rest at last.

Tim’s Journal January 30 , 1986

What does a family with a missing person do after the official search is called off? We had to decide how we would continue searching for Tim. We could only hope that he was safe somewhere, waiting to be rescued. It might have seemed unlikely, but things like this had happened, pilots had gone down, survived, found an isolated cabin, lived out the winter, and walked out in the spring. I was being told stories of survivors from people around me, and I was not about to kill my brother off with this possibility available. To me, he would be alive unless I was told otherwise.

During this time, my daughter, Lily, was in fourth grade. She was assigned a book to read titled, “The Hatchet” by Gary Paulson, about a teenage boy of divorced parents whose mother gave him the odd gift of a hatchet before a plane trip to visit his father in Canada. The plane crashes, and he alone survives. Ultimately, the hatchet gift turns out to be quite special, enabling him to survive in the wilderness with it. This book fueled Lily’s belief that Tim was alive in the forest and would be returning to us. Surely, if this boy could survive a plane crash, then Tim could too!

I kept in touch by phone with my father who lived in California. As any parent would be, he was very upset. In his lifetime he had buried his parents, a daughter, and his wife, among others. This new devastating blow, a son missing in the wilds of Alaska, really tore him up. Being in California, there wasn’t much he could do except keep in touch with the agencies and all others by phone.

Time es, days go by, lives are lost. Still we find nothing. I am alone in my wondering – to the rest there is only a game. It seems every time I try playing the game I end up losing – what is the point?

Tim’s Journal April 1984

To continue the search, my father took out a second mortgage on his home, giving Tom and myself a portion of the money. Tom kept flying whenever he could, looking over places we thought Tim might be. I made and posted flyers, pleading for information. I even taped one to our truck’s back shell window, wishing someone would see the flyer and tell me they knew something. I also had the task of putting ads in the newspapers around the state, reminding readers that we were still actively searching. We offered a monetary reward of five thousand dollars for anyone who could give us information leading to Tim and his plane. I bought an answering machine so that we would not miss any important calls. We did whatever we could to find Tim. We were desperate for anything, a glimpse of a plane, or any sliver of information that might bring him back to us.

And I’m still searching – looking for something that is real. I want to go home. It seems that it is impossible. She is not here, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what decisions to make. It is hopeless. I am hurt beyond repair. Have I hurt myself?

Tim’s Journal April 1984

November arrived, and with it the trip to my grandmother’s birthday celebration. Alone, I boarded an airliner and was whisked off to California. It was great to see my home state, my father, and the relatives, but it was also a disconcerting trip for me. Without Tim there and not knowing where he was, if felt as if something was missing, and it was. No one really talked much about it, but we were all concerned that Tim was missing.

When I was getting ready to leave my grandmother’s home, we were all milling around outside talking. My grandmother who was standing next to me said, “I hope you find Timmy.” I was surprised that she understood that he was missing.

She was in the middle stages of Alzheimer’s disease and didn’t always understand what was going on around her. This was very special to me, that she could comprehend enough to care about Tim. I gave her a hug and said, “Me too Grandma.”

After my visit was over, my father took me to the airport. As I was in line for my plane, I turned around to my father and with great optimism said, “Don’t worry Dad, we’ll find Tim.” I was very sure at that time that the outcome of Tim’s search would be positive. I just knew that Tim was okay, and he would return to us complete and well.

There’s a point in the day that a person meets up with every once in a while. It’s not night anymore – the night has rolled away to the west for the day – yet it isn’t morning either - somehow it’s not quite there yet.

So you find yourself standing – immersed – in the whole of it and as always, trying to see it all and understand. But a funny thing happens. Of all the places I have been in my life – where I am could be any one of them. In that half an hour between realities of night and day it doesn’t stand clear anymore. California, Arizona, Ohio – anywhere – it could be any one of them. It is simply beautiful.

Standing in an airport terminal and watching the world spin beneath my feet. I see it all sitting there. A witness to whatever one wishes to see. The world is more free to me each day – I can have what I wish for most.

I love the sunrise Thank you

Tim’s Journal November 7, 1983

I knew Tim was safe and unharmed, somewhere. It was only a question of where. I would find him, bring him home, and take care of him.

We were deep into the Alaskan winter now. Any lost plane would be covered in snow and not reemerge until spring or summer. We were doing all we could to try to find Tim, but finding his plane was a matter of time now.

It was going to be a cold, long, dark, winter, waiting to know the secret of a missing man. Would he emerge from the frozen dark?

Chapter 7

HOW LONG TO WONDER?

So here I am, on Valentines Day with no valentine – just a hope. I’ll have to spend another year without one, lonely. Some how I think maybe I’m just not ready, or that my time will come much later – after I’ve done something greater (dreams?). But they say if you try and you hope like nothing else, that sometimes you get what you’re hoping for. So I’ll hope, pray, and try.

That’s all I got.

And the future

Happy Valentines Day

Enjoy it while you can

Tim’s Journal February 14, 1979

How does one wait out a missing brother? What should I do? Well, somehow,

life must go on.

There are quick sudden glimpses Of the past. There are fairy tales of What should be. There are dreams of what will. Someday will do. There is truth – what is

I live what must be a very strange life, getting thrown around like this.

Tim’s Journal 1982

I spent every day of that winter wondering where Tim was. I looked out the window, observing the deep snow, and wondered if Tim was huddled up in a remote, wilderness cabin somewhere. I prayed to God and to Tim, begging and pleading with each of them to let me know where Tim was. I just wanted a clue of some kind. I fasted (didn’t eat) every day until dinner hoping that by doing so, God would have mercy on me and give our family an answer. Not knowing where he was… was pure torture.

Laying on your back in the cool grass of a beautiful fall night. Screaming with terror – there are too many stars. We face an impossible task, an unending chore – labor wearily forever. There is no escape, no way out. Insanity is our only

recourse – we go insane. How can we ever survive so much responsibility? So much pain and labor? We are found laying there screaming. We understand infinity.

I grew up having these dreams where some ultimately powerful being hands me a task I can never complete. He softly says that I must do it – and I cannot say no. How? How can I ever do this?

Coming unglued – that’s how. Insanity is the only escape. It is truly hell there.

Hello from hell Please come back

Tim’s Journal August 23, 1983

As time was ing I had become caught in a difficult mind game. If Tim were alive somewhere and I chose to believe he was dead, then how would I feel when he returned? I would feel awful and guilty for giving up on him, thinking he was dead. This is what drove me. Something in my human nature would not let me give up on him. Because I had no proof, no cold hard evidence, of his death, I would not give up on the possibility of him being alive. I felt that I owed it to him to have faith that he had somehow survived what would seem to be the impossible. I knew this made me look illogical to most of those around me. Someone who had never gone through this would have a hard time understanding. There was this unspoken energy from most people I associated with that Tim was dead. I could feel their feelings of sympathy for me. This angered me somewhat. Why did they want me to give up and bury him? Would they do that if it were their loved one? He was my brother and I would not give up!

Argue your limitations And sure enough They are yours

Tim’s Journal 1984

I knew Tim could survive, because he had the necessary survival items aboard his plane. He was smart enough and resourceful enough to keep himself alive, should he have gone down somewhere far from civilization. He was young, educated, experienced, and capable of securing himself shelter and food, provided he was not seriously injured. No loving family member would dismiss another loved one in this situation. The most important thing here was hope and faith in Tim.

Woke up this morning and it was raining – I wonder if God is crying

Any time, God

Tim’s Journal September 30, 1983

Still searching ad we put in various papers.

It now dawned on me why that little voice kept telling me to take pictures while

Tim was visiting. I would have current pictures of him with my family, ones that could have been used in the search, but I neglected to listen to that voice.

Help, to all the world a cry goes out for help. A lonely distant scream – a cry – in the middle of the dark hell of life unloved. A cry for help, for love, love of – and by- someone, somewhere, somehow. A quest for the things of life, the things that this soul has never had, but needs so desperately, so badly. Here it sits, this life terribly balanced on the edge of all the world, crying for love to pull it into happiness and goodness, falling away into the crushing, horrible slums of hell. Some say the fall is already begun, this life has been lost to the greed and lust of the world – caught and strangled…and yet some say at times there is a glimmer of hope, a flame of the truth and love that could be, if… - if only the love of others could shine down to grab this life and help it to regain its light. Yes, they say its not too late if it too tries. The life of this being must call to the world for what it needs. It can never forget its past – never – for good or bad, happiness or pain. But future may build to new goodness and love.

If only this life can be saved… God you may see and you may help. Answer its cry, give it strength. Show your love.

Tim’s Journal January 29, 1979

I went on with my life through those long, dark, winter days, taking care of my little family. All the while, I wondered where my brother was.

A part of what filled my time was skiing. My husband and I both love to ski, so when we found out the Air Force Base had a ski hill on it, we were excited. Ravenwood Ski Hill was close to our home, and gave our whole family the opportunity to enjoy the sport. An EMT, my husband ed the Ski Patrol staff. I ed shortly after him, and the following year completed the National Ski

Patrol’s Winter Emergency Course. I loved being a part of this and working with other patrollers. This helped me to stay busy during that long, painful winter.

The days at the ski hill, I rode the little T-bar lift up to the top. I skied across to the top of the run, and alone, I stood there on my skis. Looking out across the vast, snow-covered wilderness, shrouded in twilight, I wondered where Tim was. I could see so far, clear across to the Alaska Range, the very range of mountains Tim commented on the day I drove him to the airport. My heart was heavy and sad. My life may have continued on, but Tim was always in my thoughts.

Wondering I stand on the side of a snow covered hill, Feeling the cold seep into my soul. I look out over the vast wilderness, And wonder. Wonder where you are. Out there in the bleak white winter. I stare at the millions of iced trees That fill the landscape. Do any of these hold onto a secret of life? Is there life out there hiding from All of these eyes? My heart begs. Begs to the unknown God.

What God brings this much pain To us humans? What God let’s these things happen To undeserving families? What is the point Of so much pain? Cynthia Young Fackrell Many people asked me as I struggled through this ordeal, how I did it. They wondered how I kept on living my daily life. I wanted to ask them “Well, what should I do? Should I kill myself because I can’t cope with it?” But, of course, that wasn’t a polite thing to say, so I just told them I had to deal with it, I had children and a family. This led me to examine the many reasons to keep on.

I kept on so that my children would be taken care of. They still needed to be fed, bathed, clothed, and loved. That was my responsibility. It was my responsibility to show them that even through tragedies, a family has to stick together and one another. I needed to be strong for them, even in my grief. I had to teach them that through hard times you can still laugh, you can still have fun times. Life goes on. This is a very important component, that if you’re still here, it is your duty to learn to live with some optimism. Most of all, it was my responsibility to teach them the great love we need to have for one another and that you don’t give up on each other during hard times. If someone is lost, you search for them no matter how many days, months, or years it may take. You make the sacrifice because of your love, but you never forget who is still present in your life. You make sure you hug and spend time with them. It was my responsibility to teach my children this great message.

One long, dark winter day we took our children out for a walk. We went to an open area where the snow was the deepest and together we built a snowman in

the Alaskan twilight. We were laughing, smiling, and experiencing joy as a family. I looked up at the sky and the stars and wondered where Tim was. I was thrown into a mixture of honoring my family’s happy times and the pain of not knowing where my precious little brother was. Still, I had to give my family my best and enjoy the wonders of snow, the wonders of winter, and the wonders of Alaska. I didn’t say much to them about what I was thinking, I enjoyed the fun moments within the tragedy that I was living through.

So long it has been since thanksgiving. Of trailers, motor homes, Queen, sisters, places, worlds. Worlds above such innocence, such pride, such curiosity. The little Prince has long been on my mind – wondering, understanding, the roses, the truth. What is essential is invisible to the eye. Why?

Tim’s Journal April 1979

Through my despair, I was trying to be a good mother and wife. I was there for my family and they knew I loved them no matter what, just like my brother, flaws and all. We were all struggling. Having Tim disappear on a cold, snowy Alaskan weekend was one of the most heart-wrenching things I had to live through.

And so my heart, it’s torture for me here – not having the things I want so badly. Knowing that some of them I don’t even know what they are. I want to be free I guess • peace of mind.

• Maybe a BD-5J??!

• I’m going to bed – bye

Tim’s Journal June 29, 1983

I was constantly wondering where my brother was, if he was cold and hungry, if he was suffering somewhere. Wondering why it happened and why I couldn’t have done something to make circumstances different. It all seemed so surreal, was this really happening to me?

When Christmas came we did all of the usual traditional things that go with that time of year. We had the tree, the presents, the food, and the gathering of friends. All of this was going on, but Tim’s disappearance was still heavy on our minds. I played the John Denver Christmas album again, knowing that Tim loved it. It brought tears to my eyes as I ed him and our time together just a few short weeks ago.

To cope, I was reaching out to anyone I could. I had sent out my annual handmade Christmas cards and noticed that one of my dear high school friends had not responded. In January I decided to call her. Her husband answered the phone. When I asked to speak with her, he realized that I was a close friend of hers, and he proceeded to tell me that she had ed away from breast cancer. I was devastated. Now I had to deal with this death in addition to all I was going through. I was so upset that evening that I got into my car, drove to the ski hill, sat in my car in the dark, empty parking lot and just cried and cried. I prayed, pleading with God once again to help me. None of this seemed fair, and I wanted answers. Why did I have to live through all of this loss? Wasn’t losing my mother at age ten enough? My heart was broken all over again. After a long time of pleading with God, through my sobs, I heard what seemed like an audible voice that said “He’s alive.” I was astonished, looked around me, but didn’t see anyone. I tried to decide if it was a real voice. It seemed really strange, and I didn’t quite understand it, but quickly chose to believe it was a spiritual experience given to let me know Tim was alive. With tears still in my eyes, I

drove home pondering on the event.

Between the first dream I had and this last experience, I was now convinced that Tim was alive, and it was just a matter of time before I would see him again. I resumed my life with a gently renewed sense of optimism. I would find Tim and bring him home.

They called him a manic depressive; I thought he was just a manic genius. I guess that all his life he expected too much from the world around him – he had read too many fantasies and had too many dreams about how nice it could be. A person can understand him being disappointed after that. Down in his heart, I know he felt there was too much compromise and not enough magic in the world. He lost a lot of friends because they would, in his , “sell out” to what was, instead of standing for what could be. If they couldn’t live up to that, well, I guess they couldn’t live up to him. A lot of people that were his friends turned on him as well because of that attitude but looking at the situation he was in, I think he was justified; way down in his soul there was one little belief that wouldn’t go away no matter how many people laughed at it and him. It said that maybe if people cared enough – all people, everywhere, and they were willing not to accept the ceaseless tragedy as “part of life” then maybe, just once we could have love and not always pain. The one time he needed everyone to stand by his side and face God and say he was wrong, they sold out – it was only “part of life”. Because of that, He died. The world and their God, let him down.

Knowing that, you can see why his little Mozart died, and why, now he is disappointed. They lie and they cheat. They hurt and murder on another. Every time, they kill his love once again and so they kill him. He cannot tolerate that or those who do it. Some will call him a hypocrite, but he only follows his love for her – greatest of all things.

All this makes him different. To the norm, this is wrong. But after knowing both sides, I wonder if maybe the condemnations he receives are those of a norm that

is guilty of what he claims. I often also wonder if he is hopelessly out of place in a world bent on crushing the truth to preserve itself.

Tim’s Journal 1984

Everywhere I went, I was constantly looking for Tim. Whenever I drove to town I looked along the road for his familiar face. I expected to see him on a corner close to home, flagging me down to pick him up. If I saw a bus stop and let someone out, I was looking for his face. If I was in a store and saw someone with the same body build and same hair type I strained to look at them to see if it might be Tim, always doing a second, third or fourth look. It was a haunting way to live.

A little boy once touched infinity – for it, some say he is insane, yet some say he is the sanest of all. Why is he screaming?

Tim’s Journal August 20, 1983

The minutes, hours, days, and months crept slowly by. I had dreams the entire time. I would wake from each one and try to put some location to the dream, some place on a map that we could look for him. If just one of those dreams could give me the right clue, we could find him. In every dream I was always following Tim around, asking him to tell me where he was.

I’m chasing butterflies – it’s just a matter of where I fall now.

Tim’s Journal September 1986

About a month after Tim had gone missing, I discovered the CAP, (Civil Air Patrol) which worked out of a hanger right on Eielson Air Force Base. They were part of the official search in October. I had no idea they were that close to us!

Funny how the scenes outside those windows change – always something new. Yet what is there – what it is, is always the same. No matter how far you go or how much the time es, it’s always the same. It almost makes me sad – I can touch the past: feel it, see it. I can’t have it but nonetheless it is taunted there in front of me. The past is gone – never to be had again – as always – I am dying.

But the machine – Oh the machine. Somehow that machine is part of me. The metal is just metal, I know that yet the machine is part of me. A keeper of safety maybe? A home? A last hold onto the hope of my family – my people? But it is more too. It is the world as I wish to see it. That maybe in spite of it all, 1976 gave us a little of the dream of that America instead of more of the same. The dreams always came true for me in places like Expo 74 – The dream of an ideal world. A world that forgot mundane hypocrisy and tried to make people happy – nothing less and for some reason the machine has come to represent that to me. It was an attempt to make people happy, proud – not just more of the same. That machine has a heart.

I sometimes wonder if it is mine.

Still I know I am alone – the world does not care for the dream - they care for themselves. Against my own philosophy I will say that I think that that is one thing I have that they do not – I look at the time, the happiness, the truth - they look at themselves. They do not care.

But, too, the machine inspires some of them and I see that maybe the childhood love of seeing people - happy, caring people- out in that warm summer world could still be alive. And maybe I could be alive too. Is there any justice for these things God? Will you ever answer? And will you ever help?

And am I growing up – or is it all winding down? Should I cling to those truths and hope – or should I sell them in return for my sanity?

Tim’s Journal February 10, 1983

Even though Tim had been a member of CAP, I didn’t know anything about the organization. The CAP was formed in 1941 just before the Pearl Harbor attack by volunteers wanting to help defend their country. In 1946 the CAP became a nonprofit organization, and in 1948 the CAP became an auxiliary of the new U.S. Air Force. It is run by volunteers and its primary three missions are aerospace education, cadet programs, and emergency services.

After discovering the local CAP, we learned that much of the information they had been given about my brother and his plane was wrong. Because two planes were in the same search, information got crossed. Like the game “Telephone”, as information got transferred, it got jumbled up. I had been at home, just a short distance away, and could have given them accurate information, but was never informed that the CAP was located on the very military base I lived on!

I was desperate to find my brother and would do whatever I could to help find him, so my husband and I ed. Once , we learned the process of searching for missing planes and flew with them on some search missions. One of the things they taught us was to never wear polarized sunglasses while doing

aerial searches. The polarization eliminates the glare off of the metal, and that is important for finding wreckage that is almost hidden.

They say that you always get what you pray the most for – I’m not always so sure. Sometimes I believe – sometimes I don’t. Nonetheless, here goes:

Enter my mind. See yourself floating thru a mysterious land of thoughts and dreams and realities – all piled in chaotic heaps – seemingly with no point at all. Over there, there is a great archive recording the age of time. From any point material of all kinds is being brought here – thrown in the piles. The whole of it all seems somewhat without meaning.

Yet slowly you realize there is a great work going on here – a great masterpiece slowly rising out of all this. The matter below – like a giant puzzle is being carefully analyzed, refined and fitted perfectly into place with what is already there. And yes, the foundation is there for a great mount - a great truth – but it is obvious this will take a lifetime to finish…

You appreciate this yes, but the closer you get the more you see a flaw tearing this thing apart – a great chasm growing in its middle – something is wrong. Something causes a dilemma which cannot be fitted to the idea – instead it destroys it.

Tim’s Journal May 13, 1982

I was befriended by a woman member of CAP named Angelica. She was wonderful and took an interest in our dilemma. We talked a lot about my brother’s missing status. Through our conversations, I was able to correct the

wrong information the CAP had received during the initial search.

The best mirror you’ll ever find Is the face of a friend.

Tim’s Journal June 21, 1986

Angelica and I also talked about anything that might offer more clues to Tim’s location. What I appreciated most about Angelica was that she was open to anything that would or could help us. When I told her about my dreams, she wanted to record them. She wanted to see if they might point to a particular place to search. I sat down with her in the CAP office, telling her all of my dreams, and the dreams Tom and my father told me they had, and she typed them up. It didn’t really seem to give us any definitive areas where he could be, but it was an intriguing thought that these dreams might somehow help us to find Tim.

Time kept sliding by and each day, I hoped, would be the day that I would solve the mystery. Just like the water’s journey down the river, flowing along through all the twists and turns, through the rapids, over the rocks and through the pockets of smooth waters, I was riding this river of wonder to see where it would take me.

Chapter 8

ALASKA BREAK UP

In my life, never – never have I been so unhappy – never. This had better be the low point of my life – if it gets any worse, well, I’m leaving. That’s it. No more to say.

The memories fade The pain remains forever How does this end?

Why can’t I skip forward a few months here, read a page and see all my problems disappear? What good will this ever do? It seems stupid. I love her and the pages beyond this one are closed to me tonight. I really wouldn’t want to know anyway. I know there’s more pain there than I ever want to see.

Tim’s Journal February 1, 1986

One evening in early December my husband answered a phone call. A man who introduced himself as Edward told my husband that he ed a red plane flying around Healy, Alaska, the afternoon of October 9th. He also said there was a military helicopter flying close by. He said he would call back. My

husband neglected to get a phone number from him, and Father was not at all happy about it. He really wanted to talk with Edward, so he had the phone company trace the call. It originated from a Petroleum plant in Kenai, Alaska. Father called the plant and no one knew an “Edward” or anything about Tim and his plane. Was it a prank? Why would someone make a call like that, not elaborate and then vanish? It was unsettling.

We used this incident to generate another newspaper article, in hopes that this “Edward” would be found. We never heard back from “Edward.”

As our family continued to wonder, the winter months slowly ed. We patiently waited for “breakup”, what Alaskans call spring, when the weather warms rapidly, and all the snow melts at once, over an approximate four week period. The ground becomes flooded with puddles of water so we wore rubber boots, referred to in Alaska as “break up boots.” During this time the water evaporates, plants grow, and summer is on its way.

In the far north, the summers are short, and the trees have a very brief leafing out period. They take literally only a few days to go from bare-naked to fully leafed out. It seems to happen almost overnight. If we wanted to do aerial searching for Tim’s plane after the snow melted and before the trees leafed out, we had a very short window of time. My father learned this and was trying to get to Alaska before the trees turned green to begin his personal search.

It’s becoming pointless to study So many mistakes Mindless tedium

Mistakes – they may be changed, you know. You have opportunities if you wish them to be. They are there – you will not acknowledge them. “Forget her” screams the tyrant. She is past – they all are – forget the past. Lay it be and start anew. These opportunities you speak of, they are with the future. Stop looking back! I am out of control. My life is out of control. Everything is out of control for me. How am I to change this? Throw away your fears, your beliefs, your silly daydreams – that’s how. You have those solutions, YOU.

It is ten years later. It is time to change. Learning comes from everything you witness. If you learn from it, it will not be wasted. HA! I don’t believe that for a minute. Not even a minute.

Tim’s Journal 1984

Although our father intended to get to Alaska while the trees were bare, he was not able to leave till the end of April. He prepared things at his California home, knowing he would be gone during the spring and summer. He packed up his beloved GMC motor home, hitched up his small Ford Ranger truck, and set out, determined to tackle this arduous task. A driven man, he was intent on finding his son at any cost.

Once in Alaska, our father began his physical search for Tim. Tim had been missing for seven months, and we had no new information as to his whereabouts.

That summer was a very busy one, full of new people and places. From the moment Father arrived, he began talking with everyone possible to gather as much information as he could. He stopped briefly at our home on the Air Force base, and then continued to Anchorage to talk with the various agencies involved in Tim’s search. I gave him extra flyers to post along his route as he searched. He

made many trips up and down the highway from Fairbanks to Homer and on some of them we would follow along.

Because Father was so consumed with finding Tim, he was rather difficult to be with. I knew it was a terrible time for him and definitely felt for him, but nothing we did seemed to help him to feel any happiness. The only thing that would have brought him joy was for Tim to show up alive and well. This predicament, this mystery, had us all in its grip.

Having been limited to phone calls in California, he made a point to go to the agencies in Alaska and talk with them face to face. He began with the Rescue Coordination Center (R.C.C.), and then went to the National Transportation Safety Board (N.T.S.B.) as well as the Federal Aviation istration. He gathered as much documentation pertaining to the original search in October of 1992 as possible from each of the agencies. He and I spent many hours scouring these documents, looking for things to aid us in our continued search. We both had copies of the search grids and carefully looked over each and every page. As we did this, we noticed an area above Chugiak and Eagle River, cities north of Anchorage that had not been searched. Curious, we went back to the R.C.C. and inquired why this area had been left out. We were told that because it was a populated area, had Tim gone down there, someone would have seen him. Still somewhat perplexed, this made sense, so we took them at their word.

After collecting information, Father started physically searching between Fairbanks and Anchorage along the Parks Highway. He stopped in the towns, asked questions, got to know people, and had pilots fly him on searches. So many pilots Father met on his search were willing to fly and search on their own money, just to help someone in need. Alaskans are very generous people. Many are private pilots, and their attitude is “If I were in that situation, I would want someone to do the same for me.” I also had a pilot come forward, offering to fly me around the Fairbanks area.

Helped some kids by giving them gas at three in the morning ‘cause they ran out way out here. Wow, how far away they are from what I’m used to – high school kids. Times change, I guess. For us anyway.

Tim’s Journal January 30 , 1986

On many of Father’s flights they found plane wrecks. They would call in coordinates to find out if they had already been reported, and all had been. He would tell me about each one and how they looked. Some of them, he told me, looked as if no one could have survived the crash, but found out they had walked away alive. Crashing in anything, car, boat, bicycle, or airplane, provides many different scenarios. People walk away from what seems impossible while others die in a minor scrape. This led me to believe that if it is your time to die, well, you won’t walk away. If it isn’t your time, you will walk away, sometimes injured, but many times unscathed.

Airplanes are required to have an Emergency Locator Transmitter (E.L.T.) on board. If activated, either manually or because the plane has crashed, a signal automatically goes off, giving its location. These became mandatory in 1973 after an Alaskan Senator’s plane disappeared and was never located. The signals are picked up by satellite and transmitted to an international search and rescue station. Any signals in Alaska would be reported to the R.C.C. About ninety percent of E.L.T. hits are false, making searching for them very time consuming, and then only to turn up nothing. Father, in his research, got the locations of any E.L.T hits during the original search, and attempted to fly over each one to see if it might be Tim. I also had the list of E.L.T. hits and helped with getting information about them.

Hope is all I have. He must be alive somewhere.

Father’s Journal July 30, 1993

As Father traveled, he found weather stations and had them give us records of the weather for the day Tim disappeared. A wildlife researcher took aerial photographs and I brought them to experienced military personnel on base to examine for us. If they could see anything that resembled a downed plane, we wanted to know. Father took meticulous notes of everyone he talked with, documenting anything and everything pertaining to the search. He left no stone unturned.

“Nothing is impossible to the man who won’t listen to reason” Animal House

Ya’know this is about the truest statement in the world!

Tim’s Journal January 20, 1979

Because Father was so determined, he ed people over and over. Then, he wanted me to them also. These people would tell him that they would let us know if they had any new information. I didn’t want to bother them needlessly, but it was hard to tell my father that I didn’t want to call them. I absolutely wanted to be helpful, but not at the expense of annoying people. I trusted that they would let us know if they had any new information.

My father, as any father would be, was frantic for information. He made life for

the rest of us difficult with his demands. I was just as upset and frustrated, yet somehow knew this was mostly a waiting game. We could give it our best effort, but only time would give us the answers - if it was willing.

I stood there on the beach and realized that it doesn’t really matter – time will transcend everything. Even before the battle begins, it is lost. Long before one is born, the fate is decided. There’s nothing we can do. Time has caught us – we are its victims.

There are scales and there are scales. We are so short sighted, so limited in our perspective that we refuse to see the long run scale – it’s like standing on the earth and trying to see its curvature.

So God elected to bridge the gap. God the good, God the great – God the timeless. How many times I have stood on that beach begging, crying, daring God to prove himself to me. He never replies.

So I think of the truths we construct – always hiding from the truth of time. We are so concerned for what is so small so meaningless in time – ourselves.

And I realize the beach doesn’t need me – I don’t even need to be there. Wars, countries, lives – it doesn’t matter. It matters to everyone, but it doesn’t matter. We will forget. Time doesn’t care.

Tim’s Journal October 27, 1983

This was a summer spent in pursuit, yet with no resolutions. It was hard to live within an unfinished story. So many tears had fallen. I was hovering in an obscure cloud, always on the verge of weeping, yet carrying numbed emotions. I was trying to stay sane. How do I live with a broken heart and still appear normal to all those around me? How do I hold myself together as the time keeps stretching further and further out in front of me?

It was now July. I began to reluctantly resign myself to the fact that Tim might not be alive. Because there was no sign of him, the odds were very slim that he would emerge from the vast Alaskan wilderness. Alaska is a very unforgiving place when it comes to life. If you get caught in the wrong place unprepared, it will not help you to survive. Even in the summer, temperatures can be extreme, not to mention the wild animals that roam.

Though I started to resign myself to Tim’s probable death that in no way meant I had given up on him being alive. I played the mental yo-yo game, oscillating back and forth between the two. I still hoped he would somehow magically appear. I had a tenacious, emphatic wish to prove to all of the naysayers that they were wrong.

what is here. it well my friend for this is hell – this is what you dread the most. this moment and learn the lesson it teaches you.

Tim’s Journal August 8, 1982

All summer we were consumed with finding Tim. While I lived my life around the search, it totally consumed my father. Tim’s disappearance took its toll on all of us, but we persevered and kept our oars in the river, making strokes and slowly paddling, never knowing what might be around the next bend.

…something will happen soon I feel.

Father’s Journal August 13, 1993

Chapter 9

A SUMMERS OBSESSION

I seem to walk a fine line here It’s like a razors edge Between loving you too much And not caring at all God it’s bizarre To think of you every minute And know you’re not mine I’ll never understand Quite why I care Cause wherever you are I’m never there. And every moment I know I’ll never have you In every way Yet I can never give in And finally let you go.

Tim’s Journal - 1987 This is the most trying situation of my life, I miss Tim and cannot have a life until this is resolved. Life is cruel – will prayer help? So much prayer has been done, but no positive response.

Father’s Journal July 9, 1993

If you wish to get a sense of the extreme need to find a lost child, read Father’s journaling. He kept a journal of these days, mostly recording the facts, although he occasionally drops a few words of emotion in. The actual searching, I believe, kept his emotions from overtaking him. It created a false sense of self-control or maybe just a way to stay numb during such a devastating series of events.

Father’s Journal

(All hand written on a yellow legal pad originally. Names and phone numbers have been changed for privacy.)

May 19, 1993 Trip to Anchorage to See R.C.C. Col. Chowder and N.T.S.B. Barney Biggs

May 20 - am Conversation with Colonel Chowder of R.C.C. provided nothing new of interest, and no input or advice of any plan to follow. He gave a brief explanation of

E.L.T. satellite hits and how they determine exact location, seems pretty farfetched to me. He also asked that we report any info or finding to them.

May 20 – pm Meeting with N.T.S.B. Stuart K. Dingle, manager Northwest District Office. Log Books and records were stressed, that is what they really want, they are not concerned with anybody’s life, only the maintenance and repair of the airplane. He was given all the information that I had and shown all the papers that I have. Flight log from 1991 trip to and from Fairbanks and Homer, He wants information on any work done on the aircraft, by whom and when, also engine serial number, frame number etc. Asked that we give them any info or finding we discover as soon as possible. Both Mr. Dingle and Chowder said they will give message to Cherokee family. Started return trip to Fairbanks stopping at the small airports etc. to post flyers dealing with our search for Tim. At Willow airport when distributing flyers, met and talked with Kam Dollar of North End Aviation. He told me a friend of his had told him of sighting some wreckage of what appeared to be a Champ that had crashed and burned so I gave him the phone number of the R.C.C. so he could report it and took his number so that I could check back to see if anything came of it. Leon Roar of Talkeetna was in his (Kam’s) office when I left. After hearing the story from Kam he flew out and located and checked it out. His opinion was that it was the remains of a Champ. The R.C.C. said they would have it checked out by the state troopers. Kam called Cindy and told her about it and called Ben Waffleman of Talkeetna Air service and he intercepted me as I was putting out flyers at the Airport. I was told that Leon Roar was on his way there and I should talk to him. When he arrived he and his wife talked to me and he talked to the state trooper at Palmer who were to check this site with helicopter the following morning. Thru Leon’s help they said possibly I could go along if I could be in Palmer at 8:00 am Friday May 21, 1993. I was there. I met with 1st Sergeant Skale of the State Troopers and with him and helicopter pilot to the site and checked out the wreckage. It was not Tim’s plane. When we

returned Sgt. Skale requested that if possible provide them with info on all close family , Dental records for Tim if any, engine serial number of his plan, maintenance and repair records etc. Report it to State Troopers [Case number]. Palmer office [Address] 1st Sgt Skale – [phone number] Continuing my return I again stopped at Willow and talked to and thanked Kam for his help. He had also flown out and checked the wreck the previous evening and agreed it was a champ. Also talked to Willow Air Service Jeb and Milly Jenkle. He is checking out the Skwentne area as he flies over that way quite often, will keep looking Proceeded to Talkeetna again, thanked Leon and asked him to my thanks to Ben. Proceeded up the highway posting flyers at any of the airports or strips that I could. Stayed the night near Denali (McKinley) and on to Healy where I met the man who does the official weather reports from there. He has written records so he gave me copies of the reports for Oct. 9th and 11th 1992. He also told of a pilot who had recently requested weather for Oct. 9th. Her name is Sybil Maple of Healy. [Phone number].Weather mans name is Jake Clam. Proceeded to Clear and Anderson left flyers. Talked to the Air Force gate man on duty Boyd Penny A1C who says he saw a red plane take off from the strip about 2:00 or 3:00 pm not sure which day but will try to get the records and see if he can pin down which days he was on duty there. (Later learned it was Oct. 12th) And on to Fairbanks (Eielson that is)

May 23, 1993 Clyde Maple of Healy returned my call of yesterday, (husband of Sybil) who asked Jack Clam about weather the 9th of Oct. 1992. They were searching for both airplanes and people, Tim and the occupants of the missing Cherokee. They believe that both planes are near the highway and within a couple of miles of the cabin mentioned in official log and the Chulitna bridge (south of Cantwell and North of Talkeetna) within one mile of highway. Gave Mr. Maple what info that I could to include ing that he had a VOR, ELT, hand held radio etc. Also the info from his logs for the trip from Merrill field to North Pole, and North Pole to Merrill field including fuel on board (26

gals) and extra jugs (4), check points, distances between check points (statute mi.) time for each leg, cumulative time, fuel consumption cumulative, etc. They have plotted a course from this info and will give it a search soon as possible. Mr. Maple suggested I Mr. Don Hunt the father of the girl in the Cherokee who has been doing everything he can to find his daughter, is at present @ Trapper Creek, and has been flying with a Mr. Caleb Tennon trying hard to find her. Mr. Maple gave me his address which is [Address] [Phone number] Also phone number of Caleb Tennon [Phone number], Trapper Creek Lodge. [Phone number] I called the lodge and was informed by the lady there that Mr. Hunt had found the plane (Cherokee) by simply using the info he had and hiking in the area most likely. I talked to Mr. Hunt and was told he would help us any way he could. He lives in Sacramento CA. his phone number is [Phone number]. I am tying to him at Trapper Creek this morning (Sun 5/23/93) to ask some questions about how he was given info leading to pinpointing a location to search and what help he was given by R.C.C. and State Troopers. How much was official info and how much by private citizens. Mr. Hunt called @ 8:30 am Sunday 5/23 and discussed with me his finding said that with info from truck driver and other people who heard plane for the area, revving up then stopping he was able to locate area to search. He mentioned Labkon’s, Candie, Carol, and Harwin Mall as people who helped with info. He doesn’t think Tim’s plane would be in the same area where his daughter’s plane was found. He warned me of what might be seen if we were there when Tim’s plane was found. Says animals had visited site of daughter’s plane crash, nothing much to see but bits and pieces locks of his daughters hair, bloody misc. scattered what might be body parts unable to identify which were parts of pilot. Notified Mrs. Maple by phone this morning that Cherokee had been found by Mr. Hunt. (daughters boy friend) and his father body parts 15 or 20 ft. from plane possibly? Survival gear scattered within 15 or 20 ft of body parts obviously no one alive to try to even crawl to any of them. He was able to I.D. plane positively by tail numbers. He will be of any assistance possible any time just give him a call at Sacramento number where he should be within a few days to a week. Plane totally demolished (disintegrated) near a tree – didn’t say weather it burned or not, apparently not, if at all.

May 24, 1993 ed this morn, Galvin who had called, and asked about donations for search (from Cindy). He is an Air Traffic Controller at Fairbanks airport and will send check does not expect any possible refund says he thinks we have spent a fortune already. I am unable to Radcliff Cary the climber so far. Also talked to Tom and he says he will be up here shortly for help. We also discussed his dream lady and the number she gave him. Random 63 or 63.5 2300 ft 545 and 1745 (time?). More on this later when there is more info to document.

May 25, 1993 Phone call received at Cindy’s evening of 24th by man who says he lives in Anchorage and used to fly the at Healy by or with helicopter. He is in Fairbanks (we don’t know why) says he was driving from Fairbanks to Anchorage the day of Oct 9th, 1992, he left there approx. 12:30 pm saw a single plane at Nenana didn’t think much of it a the time but when going into saw a pink glowing cloud which lasted a short time might have been a plane crashing into mountain and burning or maybe just an unusual cloud. Neither Cindy nor Tom Fackrell got a name or phone or means of ing this person? Was finally able to Radcliff Cary who had several suggestions about trying to locate Tim and or his plane. Recommended Vander Yipson and checking records for Oct. 9th by Gilmore tracking station. Called Vander Yipson at his home [Phone number]and he said that all the satellite info from weather and other satellites goes thru the equipment at the Gilmore station, it also records E.L.T. hits, but this info would be buried in the footprint with all the other info which is from world wide, it goes to Suitland, Maryland after being recorded on tape by the Gilmore station. These tapes are kept approx six to ten months then used again, recorded over thus erasing them. He will check and if the tape for the Oct. date has not been reused he will try to have it set aside then it would be a case of going thru all the Gov’t Bureaus’ to find some one who could retrieve the one bit of info about E.L.T. hits from that footprint info. Mr. Yipson also said that 90% of all E.L.T. hits or sounding are false. Also if an E.L.T. hit was detected by the satellites it would automatically notify the R.C.C.

ed the State Troopers and was told that [Case number]was being handled by the Palmer Office. 1st Sgt Fidget was handling it [Phone number]. I called Palmer office and spoke to Darla who said Sgt Fidget was on vacation, but that she could send me the file with a written request from me. A request was faxed to her [fax phone number] and she will mail the file copy to me at Cindy’s address, should only take a day or two. Mr. Minty previous owner of Tim’s plane returned our call to Cindy, said he thought the engine in Tim’s plane was its third engine but he did not have its serial # but he thought it should be ed by F.A.A. somewhere in Oklahoma (question this). He said he had been ed by what he thought was F.A.A. or N.T.S.B. but had no other info for them. Stopped at North Pole Air Service and talked to owner there (still don’t know his name) and picked up copies of the work order for work done on Tim’s plane 11/9/91 replaced cylinder. Received a package from Nash Cloud with 3 rolls of film 2 ectachrome 24 codeachrome 36 and request for 6 to 8 more rolls, with which to photograph Chulitna area as he flies to Talkeetna once a week. Needs this much film as the is wide and long. The film he sent this time was taken from 500 to 1500 ft above ground level. #1 Healy area north to just north of Clear Air Force Station. #2 from end of first roll north to about 30 miles south of Fairbanks. Roll #1 includes the area where the CAP thought they saw a wing or something near Ferry during the official search. The third roll of 36 was taken in the Cantwell area during March. Sent him 8 rolls 24 Ectachrome 24 – 400 which he will use when he returns June 3rd or 4th.

May 26, 1993 Met with Radcliff Cary at the Eielson C.A.P. meeting he had numerous suggestions the most logical being to follow up on the tape idea at Gilmore tracking station with Mr. Vander Yipson since he has one peak he climbs near Healy suggested he Mr. and Mrs. Maple of Healy and see if they have any suggestion of places his climbing might be useful.

May 28, 1993 Drove (5/27) to Talkeetna stopping at Trapper Creek to try to the Labkon’s about the lake they wrote us about. No luck. Met Tom at Talkeetna and we flew the highway route form here to Cantwell and back checking the Denali State Park site and the area where the Cherokee went down, nothing new. Tom left this evening to go to Anchorage where he wanted to pick up some things, but he had to return to here a problem developed with his oil pressure, he checked out that and corrected it, will now stay the night and leave tomorrow. Returning toward Fairbanks, stopped at Healy to talk to Jack Clam the man who reports the weather form there. He told me of a story he had heard from Deb Turtle (not sure of the spelling) she said her son Mike had told her on the evening of Oct 9th 1992. That while working with a road crew, drilling core holes on the Parks highway during a snow storm, that the had seen a blue and white aircraft make a right turn across the highway and head what he thought was west flying about 50 feet above the road, about ½ or ¾ hour later another plane did the same thing (subsequently he identified in person to myself and Clyde Maple from a photo as it being without a doubt Tim’s airplane). At the time he thought they were working between the Rex bridge and Bear Creek, but after checking the employment records it was determined that in the am of that day they were south of the bridge and pm north of the bridge on the curve north of where the railroad crosses the highway. This information was ed on to us by Deb Turtle thru Cindy’s answering machine. Sybil and Clyde Maple who were already doing a search on their own, then took me with them several days flying what was thought to be his possible routs if he were indeed trying to return to North Pole. These flights are marked on the charts in red high lighter pencil. Searching for more information when stopping at Clear Sky Lodge, talked to a fellow name Rowan who introduced me to Igor who flies this area quite frequently and has for years looking for game I am told. He went out one day and flew some area which is marked in yellow on the charts. I called the State Troopers at Fairbanks, talked to Krissy about a possible helicopter and or dog search. She called back and said that the info on their [Case number] was faxed to Trooper Waldo in Cantwell and he would meet me at the Teklanica Trading Post after 3:00pm Saturday 6/5/93. He did not make it apparently due to other calls and too much territory to clover. Called Krissy again Sunday 6/6/93 was told to call 1st Sgt Dakota Monday morn 6/7/93 [Phone number]. Told him my

story and he said the Trooper helicopter would me meeting me at Clear Sky Lodge. Pilot Irvin Nannich and Fish and Wildlife rep. Abner Reemer met and talked with me and we flew and checked possible routes and locations for about 2 or 3 hours. No new info or sightings to report. I have requested the T. V. station in Fairbanks KTVF to put the new info in their news broadcast and show a photo of the plane and request any info anyone may have to be called into Tom’s or Cindy’s phones. They said they will and Herman Nettle of KTVF asked me to give him follow up info on the heli search, which I did. Also have given Olga Henworth of the Homer News all these developments. Will advise her and KTBF of any further developments. Trooper pilot Irvin Nammich and Abner Reemer both say they would like to do some further searching if possible. They suggest I called Sgt Dakota Tues. 6/7/93 morn and request if schedule permits that they be allowed to try some more then (Tues 6/7/93). Radcliff Cary left message on Cindy’s answering machine saying he was in Healy Sunday 6/6 and has some info to impart if we will call after 11:00 pm @ 457-2600. Will do so. Called Radcliff Cary, he had been in Healy areal Sunday 6/6 and checked out the mountains but found or saw nothing. Says he will help any way that he can. Called Sgt Dakota 6/7 am he will not authorize any more helicopter time, very disappointing, also tells me our source of sighting not reliable (Mike Turtle). Sgt Dakota assures me that Tim’s plane will be found by fall (how pacifying)

June 8, 1993 Continued south to try to Caleb Tennon.

June 9, 1993 Stopped at Sunshine truck stop at Talkeetna cut off. During the day had been calling Mr. Tennon and getting his answering machine, called again and he was there, drove to his house and talked to he and his wife Bea quite some positive lady. After explaining what had been done recently search wise and discussing the whole thing, getting his opinion on the two plane reports for this area he does not think there were two planes on the same day. He has agreed to fly me

and check out the Rex Bridge area sighting also the Gold Creek (weak E.L.T.) Thursday 6/10 weather permitting.

June 10, 1993 It is now 7 am 6/10/93 am parked in Caleb and Bea’s yard awaiting to go. Sky is not looking too good, will see what Caleb thinks about flying today when they get up. Till then ???

June 11, 1993 Weather is looking good and Caleb says wait until the sun is directly overhead enabling us to see directly down in the trees without shadows to mislead us. Flew the river (Susitna) and railroad track from Caleb’s to Gold Creek site of weak E.L.T. and spent a couple or more hours giving it a very thorough searching, apparently there is nothing such as we are looking for there. Returned to Caleb’s place, gassed up and flew the railroad to Chulitna and the highway which we basically followed including the railroad thru the es to Rex bridge area and searched that along the river up to and beyond Clear Military area on the west, then around the north side and east including the highway back to Rex bridge then back along the river and highway thru the es back to Caleb’s Place, still no sight of anything pertaining to Tim and his plane as far as we could tell. Went to dinner with Bea and Caleb retrieved the messages from Cindy and Tom’s answering machine. Called Helen and advised her to go ahead and transfer any funds she wanted to from her search fund to the Tim Young search fund then decided to sleep on the decision as to what to do next.

June 12, 1993 Called Mrs. Deb Turtle to get the company name of Mike Turtle’s employer, which is [Company name] of Fairbanks [Phone number], and was transferred to Mike himself who now say’s they were working south of Rex bridge per thru

records and that the person or person’s with him on that day and job said they did not seeing the planes. The first one described by Mike as being a blue with white stripes Cessna type aircraft, the second one he has identified as Tim’s plane. Then called 1st Sgt Dakota and told him we had verified the sighting thru Mike’s employer Co. He has agreed to interview the helicopter pilot Monday morn 6/14 and make decision as to if he can authorize any more chopper time. I am to call him about 11:00 am or later that morning for an answer. Stopped at Talkeetna Troopers and met Trooper Aaron Box who says he was the one Cindy first talked to after Tim’s disappearance about a search. He had been wanting to get some signatures from Cindy or myself to enable the to get dental records etc for Tim, I signed the necessary forms for this. The suggested photos and mechanical records of Tim and his plane. I let them copy the newspaper picture and article about Tim from the Homer paper and the repair order from Doyle Cartright when the 1991 repair work was done at North Pole. Also requested they give the name of Mike’s employer to Sgt Dakota so his office could for themselves the sighting was or was not credible. Maybe this will tell whether or not Mike’s story was truthful. Proceeded to Homer, met Cindy and family, found the keys to Tim’s van at Tom’s house, started it and checked it out found one flat tire which was aired up will check 6/13 to see if it will hold. After having dinner at Tom’s, Cindy and family left to spend night at Anchor Point where Tom wanted to try for some more fish, then Sunday morn they will head for Eielson thru Anchorage.

June 13, 1993 It is now 6/13 a.m. am waiting for Tom to come by here (his house site) then to proceed with whatever comes next. Spent the day gathering Tim’s belongings from the house, cleaning the interior of the motor home and with Tom on his various duty’s and projects, will be going to Anchorage in the 180 tomorrow, weather permitting will check out E.L.T. Coords’ [Coordinate number] on the way if possible.

June 14, 1993 Flew to Palmer with Tom and Fred and checked E.L.T. sites coming and going. After returning to Homer arranged for a storage unit for Tim’s van and belongings. Had dinner with the Sygner’s and Tom and his wife. Called Sgt. Dakota and was told to call Wednesday morn 6/16/93 to arrange for helicopter to continue search in Rex bridge area.

June 15, 1993 Tried to get extra keys for storage unit, no locksmith in Homer has the correct blanks. Damaged the left side of motor home trying to back out of a locksmith’s jungle hideaway.

June 16, 1993 Left Homer approx. 2:00 pm, drove to Fairbanks, arriving at appprox 8:00 am 6/16/93. Called Sgt Dakota and was told to meet Irvin Nammich helicopter pilot at Trooper headquarters at 1:30 pm to fly and search Rex bridge area again. Did so with no new results returned to Trooper HQ and then back to Cindy’s being very tired at this point, went to the motor home and to bed immediately.

June 17, 1993 It is now 6/17 a.m. more later Visited Sgt Dakota at his office, discussed options of search, nothing really new to me, his opinion of best time to search being middle to late August and Sept when foliage begins to thin out with leaves dropping etc. Also at those times hunters are frequenting the uninhabited area. Nothing else new this day.

June 18, 1993

Visit to Fairbanks etc, nothing day.

June 20, 1993 Tried to drive to Manley hot Springs, took wrong turn and ended at Yukon river, returned to Fairbanks, will try to make it to Manley another time (miserable trip).

June 21, 1993 Visit to [Company name] geologist, procured copies of drilling logs for Oct. 9th 1992, which show that they were working just south of Julius Creek bridge, not Rex bridge, so if Mike Turtle’s sighting was made as he says that day it is ten to fifteen miles away from the location we have been concentrating on, at mile 285.49. Have located that spot and now am distributing flyers and photos to the people within several miles of this location, to see if any ing evidence will surface. Am spending the night at Travis’ place the closest house north of the site where Mike says he made the sighting of Tim’s plane. Travis (don’t know his full name or correct spelling) is retired assistant fire chief from military installation at Clear. Very nice people both he and his wife, Leslie. Have spread the word as much as possible here, hope it will give us some kind of answers.

June 22, 1993 Continued to distribute flyers and talk to people mostly north of Julius creek Bridge to Nenana, Met Pastor Abbott D. Yeller, the official weather man at Nenana, he showed me his records for Oct. 9th, 1992 and will send a copy of same to Cindy’s address when he can get official permission to do so. His records show temperature of approx 25 degrees to 35 degrees for that day. Must this when the record copies are received. Also shows winds of 8 mi per hr. from southwest (headwinds for Tim) ceilings from approx. 2000 ft to 3500 ft (this must also be verified along with dew point). Proceeded back to Travis’ house to spend the night. P.S. talked to Brian Devon of

[Company name]who keeps his own record of temperatures and snowfall daily, his record shows temps of 26 to 35 degrees for that day, no notation of any snow. Stayed the night at Travis’.

June 23, 1993 More flyers distributed, checked with people north of 285.49 to Nenana. Rain. Went to [Company name] and talked to Mike Turtle he tells same story, but this time described the blue and white plane which was before Tim’s on same day, description matches a plane parked at Anderson will check that out. After installing new battery in the rain, was soaked and tired. Spent the night at North Pole R.V. parking.

June 24, 1993 Talked to Irvin Nammich, Trooper helicopter pilot, gave him all the new info I had. Asked him to talk to Mike Turtle. Helicopter is being serviced and repaired will not be available until next Wednesday, Irvin says call him then and possibly we will take another look at area by Clear and Julius creek. Must try to arrange for other ways to look at more of this area from North Pole to Healy. Wife of owner of Blue and white plane parked at Anderson (Percy Page) called and said when her husband checks in she will get info or tell hem to call us.

June 25 thru 29, 1993 Picked up regulator for motorhome generator. 6/25 thru 6/29 spent washing, waxing and working on generator for motor home, and cleaning white truck plus other misc. but necessary chores.

June 30, 1993 Helicopter not ready yet per Irvin Nammich of State Troopers, went to CAP meet

with Cindy, talked to Angelica about her possible sighting of accident on parks highway Oct. 9th, 1992 to maybe confirm Mike Turtle’s story. She re nothing except there was no snow, she says. Must talk to Elvin Falcon who was doing the driving that day to see if he re drilling rig or anything to help us.

July 1, 1993 Went flying in Troopers helicopter this afternoon with Irvin Nammich the Trooper pilot, went to the highway near Nenana and followed it to the 285.49 site of supposed sighting of Tim’s plane. Checked out that area, then proceeded to Eva Creek area, from there to wood river buttes then back to Fairbanks heliport at Trooper headquarters. Saw nothing of interest that might have been connected with Tim. Irvin Nammich thinks it almost useless to continue search now he thinks we should wait until the leaves start coming off. The trees and the hunters are active in late August and September. Later called Elvin Falcon who was driving the CAP truck to Anchorage with Angelica Oct. 9th 1992, he doesn’t any snow, nor does he any drilling rig on the highway, they may have ed the sighting area earlier than Tim would have been there, but the drilling rig was there according to the [Company name] log books. It now appears the sighting may be a hoax after all, tomorrow will check with the [Company name] geologist (Melissa Barker) and try to make some sense of all this.

July 2, 1993 Checked with Melissa Barker, she gave me copies of log for Oct. 10th and 11th 1992. Oct 10th shows snow and 30 degrees, could Mike have the days mixed up? Also shows mile 287.14 morn and 287.42 afternoon. This makes things more confusing then ever. Found the location at Eielson A.F.B. where the drilling rig with Mike and Tate were working ed them about noon and once more questioned both of them about the sighting and date. Mike maintains his story, says it was definitely? Tim’s plane and date was correct. Also he gave me names

of flagmen at that time, one is his brother Ted Turtle and the other Daryl Creamer of Healy [Phone number]. I am still confused and unsure about this sighting, is it really true or not? Called the Maple’s to see if they are still willing to do any search flying, left message on their machine.

July 3 and 4, 1992 The Maple’s returned my call to Cindy, said to call them Monday eve 7/5/93 and they would be willing to do some more searching with me. Otherwise 3rd and fourth of July uneventful except for a visit to Alaskaland eve of 4th.

July 5, 1993 Monday July 5th ed KJNP TV and radio about announcement to keep the word out about Tim. Hopefully to reach people out for the weekend holiday so that they might report anything if it seemed to pertain to Tim or his plane. Cindy and I will visit the station Tues eve. (7/6) and state our case for T.V. supposedly in person. Hope it helps. Also went flying, searching with John Ball, Cindy’s friend, flew from North Pole direct toward Healy until we reached the base of the Alaska range then followed that basically west to the highway at approx Rex bridge. Stopped at Clear Sky Lodge for a restroom visit, then returned from there across the flats to Fairbanks. John’s [Phone number]

July 6, 1993 Visit the two T.V. stations in Fairbanks today) KTVF – 11 & KVAC – 2?) and KJNP in North Pole to request they broadcast info about Tim and his plane, also KFAR, KJNP, KCBF and other radio stations in this area. Went to Fairbanks News Miner, local newspaper, spoke Glen Karuso who is going to print a story about Tim and our search in the July 7th issue possibly with a photo of Tim and

maybe if space permits a photo of the plane. Cindy and I appeared on KUNP TV this evening for a few minutes to tell our story and make an appeal for any information of any kind from anyone who may have any information that could possibly help in our search for Tim. Called Clyde Maple weather forecast do not make flying advisable tomorrow so will check with him tomorrow eve after 8:00 pm for possibility of Thursday 7/8. Also will fly Saturday 7/10 weather permitting.

July 7, 1993 July 7th Tim’s 33rd birthday – why can’t he be here to enjoy it? What can I do? KATN – TV called Cindy and asked us to be at their studios at 1:30 pm to tape an interview, which we did and it will be shown on their news at 6:30 pm today. It was. Should help to get the word out. They did a good job with photos and the flyer. This evening a call was received from Earl Scratchit of North Pole. He thinks he may have seen Tim’s plane parked along the Parks highway south of Denali last Oct. He will try to the date thru his employer. I will meet him tomorrow morn early and show him a photo of the plane to see if he can give a definite identification. If so it will change our search pattern.

July 8, 1993 Channel 11 Fairbanks T.V. called and wants to do an interview, but as I am going to Healy to fly search with the Maple’s, Cindy will do it if possible. Talked to Maple’s this morn and heard his suggestions, he really wants to help in any way he can. Went to Healy, talked to Maple’s before flying told them about Scratchit’s story and then explained the plane he saw it is one that is parked there periodically and that spot is also used by State Trooper plane (Super Cub read and white). This evening we flew up to Julius Creek Bridge and then up the highway to Nenana and back, the area I wanted to see along the highway is very densely populated to my surprise, but we saw nothing that required a second look.

July 9, 1993 Called Mr. Scratchit to give explanation of plane parked along Parks highway, I must check Troopers records to see if they had a plane there Oct. 9th – 92, that one could still have been Tim’s. Drove as far south as Cantwell, stopped there and several other places to put up or check on flyers, including Denali strip and Cantwell flight service. Returned to Healy and went flying with Maple’s to cover Eva Creek and vicinity. Saw five crash sites one of which I called in to R.C.C. Coords. are [Coordinates] R.C.C. shows a white and blue Cessna (wings burned) at [Coordinates] it must be the one. That is it for today. This is the most trying situation of my life, I miss Tim and cannot have a life until this is resolved. Life is cruel – will prayer help? So much prayer has been done, but no positive response.

July 10, 1993 Flew about 6 hrs today filling in what we think were the gaps in the search. No result, it must be time to move south and try that area, why don’t he come walking out or at least be spotted? This is enough to drive a person up the wall. Cindy and family stopped by last evening on their way home to Eielson. ONWARD!?

July 11, 1993 Returned to Eielson, flat tire – must do repairs to motor generator and try to fix suspension, fix or replace tire, then proceed down south to try searching there.

July 12, 1993 In Fam Camp at Eielson A.F.B. Left tire at base service station to be repaired. Went to Fairbanks to get more plane photos and prints of photos of Tim. Visited the P.B.S. station at the University here, they will put announcements on public service programs on local radio, but do not do news on T.V. Left message on

Cindy’s answering machine asking me to call her. Also started work on generator.

July 13 , 1993 Called Jessica early this morn and made an appointment to meet her at the main gate of Eielson at 11:00 am so she can do an interview of Cindy and myself for T.V. Interview was o.k. but lengthy, obviously they will have to edit out quite a bit before it goes on the air. It was supposed to air at 6:00 pm but was not shown probably because of baseball maybe tomorrow. Generator repairs not going well, will have to be done over. Weather too hot to do much, 90 degrees here and feels like more. Get sick just trying to work. Cindy gave me a BD dinner with a cake. Just wish I could feel happy, but cannot. Life doesn’t seem to have any reason for good feeling, just discouraging and wearing on me, don’t know how to keep going. Just too many disappointments. Why can’t it be positive instead of negative? Just one problem after another.

July 14, 1993 Finally reassembled motor generator. Channel eleven aired our interview this evening, received two calls immediately but don’t think they will be much help. One from a Nate Quinton and one from Samuel Table of Healy. Nate Quinton works at Clear and saw a lite on his way home, don’t date or other details.

July 15, 1993 Called Samuel Table, he has some advice to offer on places where Tim might have been lost in the canyons near the . He has lived and mined in that area for years and flown it some. I am going to meet him at Healy Totum Cafe tomorrow at 5:00 p.m. Hope he can give us help.

July 16, 1993 Called Channel 11 T.V. and talked to Herman Nettle about having our interview shown on Anchorage station. He referred me to Stan Doggitt of KRVA of Anchorage program director. [Phone number]. He agreed to call Jessica and have the info sent down to them and perhaps show it maybe next Sunday. Also asked Cindy to call channel 2 and make the same request, she did so and they say they will send info down and it may also be shown in Anchorage. Traveled to Healy and met and spoke with Samuel Table who told me of possible ways a pilot might use if he could not get thru the . He pointed them out on the maps and chart and they are certainly areas that should be checked out. Also met Mr. ? Padder who knows the area involved and they both will try to line up pilots who are qualified and willing to fly and check out their suggestions. Mr. Padder also re a sighting he made from his hunting cabin which he will check out personally as soon as he has the time. The spot has been on the map and charts and will be checked out from the air if possible. And now at Healy strip. Will talk to Maple’s tomorrow or Sunday.

July 17, 1993 No response from Samuel Table or Mr. Padder about people who might fly me to check out their information. Drove to Cantwell and ed Sal Babcock who gave me what advice and info he could. He recommended we the National Outdoor Leadership School who have groups of young people hiking in otherwise untraveled areas who spend up to eight weeks in the wilds? And are supplied by air by people like Sal Babcock very good advice.

July 18, 1993 Called Maple’s this morn and will meet them this p.m. about 5:00 o’clock. Also wrote a letter National Outdoor Leadership School and faxed it and a flyer and photo to them – attn: Neal Cable Chapter Manager Discussed recent events and people involved at Healy – specifically Samuel Table and Hal Padder and previous people such as Mike Turtle and Deb Turtle.

Decided to go on to other things. Sybil plotted Tim’s route from his logs marked it on the charts so it can be flown as it was originally designed. Will go back to Eielson then down to Talkeetna and start searching south of Healy to south of Talkeetna as much as possible. Seems unlikely he would be there but it is possible. Must find him.

July 19, 1993 After going back to Cindy’s, picking up my mail, delivering four rolls of film for Nash Cloud to developers, drove to Denali and talked to Nash. He explained areas they have and are searching and say if Captain Gannon thinks it would be o.k. they can photograph from a higher altitude there by getting more area per slide. Possibly 2000 ft or higher. Also I must ask Gannon if any other speed of film would give better definition. Nash Cloud has G.S.L. locator in his plane so can pinpoint and photograph any coordinates we might give him. Am at Talkeetna cutoff will try to get to Caleb Tennon’s place tomorrow.

July 20, 1993 Called Captain Gannon this morn and told him the next slides were taken from 1000 to 1500 feet. He (Gannon) will check it out and let us know. He has no recommendation for film types. Caleb Tennon flew us (he and I) from his place the heading shown on Tim’s logs to Cantwell, then back down the highway nothing new. Will see what tomorrow brings.

July 21, 1993 Nothing today, weather not good for flying. Changed oil and filter on motor home. Hope the weather is good tomorrow. Till then.

July 22, 1993 Better weather today afternoon we flew to # 5 N.E. of Talkeetna, then to # 10 S.E. of Talkeetna. Looked them both over as much as possible, which is thoroughly. Then the heading from Tim’s logs as far as Willow, the west to the Susitna River and south following river as far as the Cook Inlet, then back along river and highway to Caleb’s Landing. Caleb thinks I should now concentrate on the peninsula. Will try to Tom and maybe get him to fly for a few days.

July 23, 1993 Travel today – toward Anchorage with stops at Talkeetna, Willow Susitna Air service etc. Will call R.C.C. – did so no new answers – Tomorrow morn with questions from log. Staying at Centennial Pk Anchorage tonight.

July 24, 1993 Nothing today still trying to Tom about flying the Peninsula.

July 25, 1993 Went to site of hunter sighting and checked mountains with binoculars, nothing then to Hope, Seward, Soldotna and Kenai where spent the night at K Mart parking lot. Called Nash Cloud with request he photograph #5 and #10 on Anchorage chart gave him coordinates. Called Anchorage to arrange for tire to replace the one with bubble, they will bring it down tomorrow to Anchor Point or Homer if the have additional orders for Homer. Called and talked to Tom about doing some searching west side of inlet alternate routes to inlet and or across inlet, Also more searching of the flats where E.L.T.

was heard. Must ask him about the sighting along highway, what is his opinion? Also asked Cindy to send more film to Cloud, 6 rolls. Called and sent faxs to KAKM TV. Aviation weather done by Jim Scarlett [Phone number] (fax [Phone number]) national weather man, also Alaska Public Radio network. Talked to Mara Augustis and must call her again Wed. 7/28 9:00 am [Phone number] (fax [Phone number]) and KBBI – AM Homer, [Phone number]

July 27, 1993 Went to Kenai airport and distributed flyers to a number of places. Wally of R.S.S. drove me around and helped a lot. Am now in Homer waiting for Tom – 9:30 pm

July 28, 1993 Drove to Anchor Point area to pick up new tire for motor home. Called and talked to Mara Augustis of Alaska Public Radio Network [Phone number] Anchorage. Gave as much info as I could so they would hopefully give a spot on their stations for an announcement concerning our search for Tim. Also ed Dan Keyton of KBBI Homer and met with him and did an interview to be used on their new broadcast. It was aired this evening on the 5:00 pm and 5:30 pm news broad cast. I will try to thank and congratulate Mr. Keyton on doing an outstanding job. Must try to have the network put this on other statewide stations. Called Alaska Aviation Safety foundation and left a message for Hank Carson to hopefully us at Tom’s place. The rain came to Homer with me. Hope it will clear and allow some aerial search.

July 29, 1993 Talked to Dan Keyton and thanked him for doing a great job. He says it will be on statewide network and repeated periodically. Called Hank Carson of Alaska Aviation Safety Foundation, he says no problem with putting our request on their program. I sent him a couple of flyers with photos and copy of newspaper article. Will check with him again to see when and where it will be used. I am

thinking of leaving here and finding someone else to fly this part of the route if Tom does not seem to want to do so.

July 30, 1993 Tom and wife are going to Palmer today to take care of her horse papers, I am going to try to find someone else who will be willing to fly so that this area can be covered as much as possible by air at this time of year. Well! Fred found me down town and volunteered to help search if I wanted to (boy do I) maybe Tom asked him to but don’t know. We flew out to the E.L.T. location on the peninsula and did circles around it out to a five mile radius, then did grid searches in that area, then back to Soldotna for gas, back to the inlet and back and forth east and west grids from there to Skilak lake a slightly different route back to Homer then we had flown coming up. Will do some more tomorrow if all is ok weather wise. Across and up the west side of the inlet to Skwentna possibly. Hope is all I have. He must be alive somewhere.

July 31, 1993 Met Fred at airport (where I spent the night) and we flew to Soldotna where I put up a couple of flyers, then on to the forelands and across the inlet, up the west side toward Skwentna, found one red and silver crashed airplane but I apparently was an old one, but we took coordinates with Fred’s G.P.S. and phoned them into R.C.C. from Skwentna, while we were there a couple of other fellows landed and told us of seeing a red plane crashed on a mountain near Mistic , we figured the coordinates as near as possible from the charts and their description, phoned it in the R.C.C. and was told there were three wrecks in that area, one from 1982, one 1983 and on 1953 none of them seem to match the description we were given, which was a red wing with some white and straight with rounded end, none of the three supposedly in that area have that type of wing, we must see if the troopers can get a chopper out there, if not Fred says he will fly me out there when the weather is good. Then we flew back along the Yentna river to the Susitna and down to the inlet, back across the forelands and Soldotna to Homer. Checked again with R.C.C., no luck.

August 1, 1993 I have been parked in the Fish and Wildlife Dept. parking lot since last evening, but am told that I must leave here, but as it is paved and level, was a good place to work on motorhome, also a parts house open Sunday near by. Spending the night at the bluff above Homer.

August 2, 1993 Called Nash Cloud this morn and told him of the sighting we were told of at Skwentna by Larry of Anchorage. Nash says he knows of the site and is sure it is an old one, but will be flying the Mystic area this week and will check it out to see if there is anything new there. Also told the State Troopers at Palmer (1st Sgt. Skale) and they say they will not go out on this one, since they believe it too far away from what they think Tim’s route would be. Cloud also agrees to this. Checked the storage place and looked over Tim’s things again. Also the owners say they will change the lock sometime in the next week or two so there will be keys for all of us. They will send two keys to Cindy’s address when lock is changed unless I am still in this area and pick them up. Talked to Fred Scribble again this morn and was happy to hear him say how much he liked and enjoyed Tim when working and being around him. He seems very disturbed that Tim is still missing and wants to help find him if he can. Am back at the bluff above Homer for the night. Must mention that I talked to the people at the F.S.S. here in Homer. Also talked to Kevin Headlam of the Telegraph Tribune of S.L.O. North County, who is going to do a story about our search, after learning about it thru Associated Press.

August 3, 1993 Bid farewell for now to Homer and Fred Scribble who has volunteered his plane and time to help search. Will go to Anchorage and north again I guess, just don’t have any more ideas at present. Cindy says she and John will do some flying west of Fairbanks tomorrow eve after 6:30 pm.

August 4, 1983 Today I have been distributing flyers around Anchorage, mostly Merrill Field all the aircraft shops, F.S.S., CAP etc. Went by Aria James place but she was not there. Had more photocopies made and flyers also. Visited Birchwood airport, met and talked with Boyd Green of CAP composite squadron also two other CAP who returned to there while Boyd and I were talking. They had been flying a Beaver in a search for a missing plane. Visited the other organizations at the airport left flyers and talked to a few people who had some very good ideas and who were willing to help put out flyers etc. Called Clyde Maple who told me of a letter he received from Don Hunt with a note addressed to me. He says Don is going to write me and I should write him at his address [Phone number]. Also Maple’s new phone # is [Phone number] and they have moved. I told Clyde of Cindy’s idea about where Tim might be and he said they will be willing to fly that area when time and weather permit. She, Cindy, will have to them and give them particulars. Told Maple’s that Cindy is having a difficult time with all this in addition to the normal stresses of raising and caring for a family. They will try to talk to her and give and help as much as possible. I am now spending the night at Birchwood Airport, must get more flyers and photos tomorrow. Hope Tom will Cindy before he goes to Colo. Maple’s cannot take a third person now due to having floats on their plane.

August 5, 1993 Went back to Anchorage to get more copies of photos of Tim’s plane and more flyers, took flyers to Fort Richardson and Elmendorf A.F.B. and other areas. Called Cindy she says a wheel has been found and given to F.A.A. It is said to be a Champ wheel and has disc brakes. Tim’s did not have these as we are told by Tom and Dennis Shaferton. Am heading back to Eielson now to check this out. Before leaving Birchwood met Dale Smart who also spots fish and knows Tom and Tim, left a flyer at his place also. He is one of several people at Birchwood who seem to be spotters.

August 6, 1993 Traveled to Eielson A.F.B. and with Cindy, Tom and myself viewed the wheel at the F.A.A. office in Fairbanks, we do not believe it is from Tim’s plane. Ted Right, flight standards inspector for F.A.A. has the wheel in his office. Cindy has ed Helen Stipple who’s husband disappeared approx 5 hears ago flying his Champ. She is trying to find out if his Champ had disc brakes. We are told that the wheel was found floating in Tanana River, about five miles down stream from Chena campground, some time ago, how long ago is not confirmed at this time. Wheel was held by finder for a time, then given to an aircraft mechanic, who realized it was apparently from a crash and gave it to the F.A.A. who called Cindy.

August 7, 1993 Another one of those days with no input or accomplishment of any kind. Tom must have departed for Denver with his animals the only answer on his phone is the machine. It is very disappointing to witness the life of Cindy’s husband and children, glued to the T.V. and uninterested in doing anything except fight among themselves and disputing their parents. Except for Cindy I feel totally abandoned by family, my has come from other people who have empathy for the situation which exists in regard to Tim. God I wish something could be resolved and happily for everyone involved.

August 8, 1993 Maple’s left message on Cindy’s machine stating that they were unable to fly to Menchunuina due to weather, they will do so when weather allows. Later Don Hurt called and talked to Cindy. I called and talked to him myself this evening. It doesn’t help my state of mind, just makes it worse to think that we have not been able to get any answers or information at all.

August 9 , 1993

Called Helen Stipple about including her in possible radio or T. V. spot to help get the word to hunters. Called Margie Parson of Ch 11 T.V. and she will call back to Cindy’s phone today or tomorrow (no commitment). Met Major Dannon, F-16 pilot, camped next to me with his family in Fam Camp. He will try to help in his flying with the special equipment they have for locating things. This could be the answer if they happen to fly an area where Tim’s plane might be. He will also alert other pilots of his group and some who have their own planes may search also. Time is ing rapidly and still no clues or results. It Hurts. Talked to Ted Wright of F.A.A. about including wheel in any news which might help all of us.

August 10, 1993 Today attempting to media sources to repeat announcements on T .V. radio, news papers etc. to help alert the hunters who will be out shortly with opening of moose season and sheep and caribou. Have visited and checked the following channel 3 T.V. KJNP and KJNP radio, was asked to appear at 8:30 pm Tues Aug 17 to give a short live interview on their T.V. Trapper Chatter program. They will also continue the announcements on radio Trapper lines. Then onto TV-11 KTVF and KCBF radio who will both put announcements on their respective medias. Next Channel 2 T.V. will do the same and both of the above T.V. stations say they will get their Anchorage s to do the same. Herman Nettle and Margie Parson of Ch 11 T.V. Candy Smith of Ch. 2 Kate Bernard of DCBF radio. KFAR radio will also do announcements and KIAK radio. Called Alaska Public Radio in Anchorage who will let us know thru Cindy’s phone. Glen Karuso will put something in the Fairbanks News Miner and Olga Henworth of Homer News suggest I write a letter to the editor and have it at their office by Monday 8/16. Left flyers at Colonel Brigdon’s office at Amber Hall – Eielson with a written request they be posted at strategic places on base. Must still go to Wainwright Army Base tomorrow. Also must call Mike Shale in Homer.

August 11, 1993

Wainwright Army Base will distribute flyers at strategic places thru Public Affairs office. I had more copies made of flyers and photos and distributed more to bulletin boards stores tec. Today Cindy and family are readying to leave for their vacation tomorrow, will be gone until 8/19.

August 12, 1993 Today wrote a letter to the editor of Homer news, faxed it to him, and also to Anchorage news and KBBI radio’s Art Farrell who will use the info therein for an announcement on Public radio. Hand delivered the letter to editor to Fairbanks News Miner, sure hope they will all publish it to alert the public and specifically the hunting community. Called and talked to Nick Yardle of Alaska Public radio in Anchorage at the suggestion of Art Farrell of Homer. They will work together to get it on statewide radio. Stopped at Bradly Sky Ranch and met Ernie Donner who said he had sighted something red about 3 or 4 miles from the runway near the Tanana River but when looking later could not find it again. This was about two months ago. Ernie and I flew out there and searched for some time but could find nothing.

August 13, 1993 Received a call at Cindy’s house this evening from a Brady Zebnek who says he saw what he thought was some red wreckage on a mountain near Summit Lake on Seward Highway. Co’ords approx [Coordinate #s] He reported this to NTSB after getting co’ords from Kenai F.S.S. NTSB would not send helicopter or other methods of investigation because he couldn’t say he saw any white. He says he spotted it when the sun flashed on it from about 2 miles away so he looked at it with 10 power bincos and it saw something red sticking out of the mountain at approx 3500 ft. elevation near a jumble of rocks. Couldn’t be sure what it was but it was bright red. Brady lives in Sterling, [Address] [Phone number]. He told me all this and showed the location on my atlas and on the Seward sectional chart. I called Fred Scribble and gave him this information, he will Brady and make arrangements to fly him out to where he said he saw this. If they see anything I will try to get a helicopter to go out there and get a close check. If necessary will call Radcliff Cary and see if he will be willing to climb the

mountain and take a look. Fred will not be able to look until the weather is good. Cary might be the quickest way to get the answer if weather stays bad down there. I told the Maple’s all this because I just couldn’t keep it in, just had to have someone to talk to. Talked to Caleb Tennon this morn and told him of Brady Zebnek’s story of the sighting otherwise just a day of waiting so far. Don’t know if Cindy and family got the message from their answering machine or not, the thing does not seem to be working right. That’s it for now, something will happen soon I feel.

Father, while in Alaska, had numerous problems with his motor home, and did all of the repairs himself. I am amazed that at the age of 69, he managed to do all those large mechanical mends.

Father made some derogatory comments about both my family and my brother Tom in his journal. That was my father. Most of the time, he only saw the negative. He wanted Tom and I to spend all of our time, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, searching for Tim. As much as I might have wanted to do this, I had a husband and small children that I could not neglect. I can venture to say that Tim probably wouldn’t have wanted me to leave my children that he loved so much to do this, either. Tom and his wife couldn’t just drop their busy lives, either. We both did as much as we could, but sadly, this was not enough for Father. I tried with everything I had to help him, him, and accompany him through all of this. After criticizing my husband and children, he did briefly acknowledge that. My father had many good attributes, but the older he got, the move the negative seeped in. It was a rough time for all of us. This river was definitely giving us a run of turbulent water!

Chapter 10

THE EMPTY NET

I guess I’m just sitting here in the sun, watching the most beautiful sunset I’ll ever see. – Knowing It’ll be dark soon. – Knowing the sun is setting on me.

Tim’s Journal September 28, 1982

And it’s almost August. July is almost over. Another summer lost. There are so many things I want to do and none of them are getting done. What do I do?

Tim’s Journal July 30, 1986

By mid-August Tim had been missing for ten months. We had planned a week long vacation and decided to give dip netting for salmon a try. Dip netting is a way to get large quantities of fish without using fishing poles, the way the Alaskan natives have fished for many years. Since we were residents of Alaska we were permitted to fish this way for the allotment of sixty fish per family. Having never done this before, we needed to buy the long handled, very large net required. Friends that had recently dip netted told us the best place to go, warning that it could be rather dangerous since the water is swift.

We packed our little trailer and set out for Chitna, Alaska, stopping in Anchorage on our way there. We went to Elmendorf Air Force Base, located near

Anchorage, to shop at the Base Exchange, commonly known as the BX, looking for the equipment we needed. We bought the net and left for the Commissary, the base grocery store, to buy more food and supplies to stock our trailer.

When arriving in town, I tried to call some military friends that had recently gotten orders to Elmendorf Air Force Base, and had purchased a home in Anchorage. We’d kept in touch, often visiting them when in the area. I wanted to let them know we were in town. Their son answered, telling me his parents were out, so I left a message that we would be leaving soon to go dip netting. I told them we would try to catch them when we came back through, after fishing. They got our message shortly after I called. My girlfriend quickly got in her car and drove all around town looking for us. She found us in the Commissary parking lot, just about ready to leave, and insisted we stay the night. For some reason she was powerfully prompted to make sure we visited them that day.

We parked our truck and trailer in front of their house, got comfortable, and began to socialize. At about 8:00 pm that evening I decided that I had better call my father. He was back in the Fairbanks area, staying in the “Fam Camp” on Eielson AFB, a campground for military and their families. He was using our home to shower, do laundry, and make phone calls. We planned that he would be there at a certain time each evening so I could call him and check in. I used our friends’ phone, dialed the number, and waited for him to answer.

Father answered. I said “Hi, Dad”, and a conversation ensued. As we were talking Father said, “Hold on, someone’s at the door”. He opened the door to a security police officer from the base. The Officer was looking for me. Father handed the phone over to the Officer who proceeded to tell me that my brother had been found. Excited, I quickly asked, “Is he alive?” His voice turned solemn as he said, “No Ma’am. He is not”. I felt bad for him, because the Officer had the duty of telling me that Tim was no longer alive. It was his job, and not a pleasant assignment. At that moment I did not feel terribly sad, even though I wanted the answer to be ‘yes’. The fact that he had actually been found filled me with extreme gratitude.

The conversation turned to where Tim had been found. He was close to Anchorage, close to where we were staying. His plane was in a ravine close to Chugiak, Alaska, north of Anchorage on Chugach State Park land. What a fascinating coincidence.

“Don’t cry” I would say if I were in Heaven. Don’t cry cause there’s so terribly much to do and so little time. Crying is so useless and the loss will only become greater… I’m sitting here looking at you all and it’s so useless to cry.

But why is it then that I’m existing here on the other end of the line and almost about to cry a river?

Tim’s Journal April 22, 1979

Since my father heard the conversation he obviously knew Tim had been found. He quickly packed up and made his way to Anchorage.

Left a message on Cindy’s answering machine for her to call her home so I could tell her about the Zebnek thing. Well while I am there this pm she called from her friends home in Anchorage and while we were talking the doorbell rang, it was the Security Police from the base, who had been ed by the Troopers or F.A.A. or NTSB (don’t know for sure which) to notify Cindy and family and me of the finding of Tim’s plane and remains. Handed the phone to the Officer and he informed Cindy of who to call to get more info. Sgt McKinner of State Troopers [Phone Number]. I called and talked to him later, he says a couple of hikers who had become lost stumbled across the wreckage and reported it (Friday evening or Sat morn). Stg. McKinner of Troopers, Kent Barry of F.A.A. Jim Freddon of NTSB have already been to the site and removed some items and any human

remains. Also they say the F.A.A. has sealed the site. Why didn’t they notify us first must question them about this, who do they think they are, the Gestapo? The site is behind Chugiak, co-ords are [Coordinate #s]. Well it is getting late and I am going to Anchorage to meet Cindy and family and see what more needs be done by us. First will notify the people who need to be by phone to include Tom, [a list of names]. Don’t recall anyone else I may have called. Am leaving now to go to Anchorage – approx 12:30 am. Must try to arrange to visit the crash site as soon as possible before they destroy it more.

Father’s Journal August 14, 1993

The date was Saturday August 14, 1993, when we learned Tim and his plane had been discovered. We spent the rest of the evening making phone calls to family and friends, telling them the sad news. I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about this new development. I was pleased that we finally had an answer, but distraught that Tim was deceased. I felt let down. I had so wanted him to walk out of the forest alive. It wasn’t the ending I had envisioned. I tried to understand how he could have been so close to such a populated area and not have made it to an airport to land. None of it made sense. We were asking a lot of questions. We did, however, marvel at the fact that we were right there in Anchorage, spending the night with friends, with a week of vacation time, to deal with the situation.

It was hard for my children to hear that their Uncle Tim had died. They loved him so much, and this broke their little hearts. Tears filled their eyes as they realized they had to say goodbye to a very special uncle. There would be no more visits, no more post cards, no more walks to school, no more silly handshakes, no more fun game nights, and no more loving hugs from Tim.

That night Lily didn’t even care that she was crying in front of our friend’s son, who was close to her age. She usually kept any grief to herself, but in this instance she could not contain it. The tears flowed freely as she realized that Tim

was never returning. She cried herself to sleep.

You can look back on your past forever. You can look and see your youth, see your childhood. You can see the happiness – the innocence until you’ve stripped it so bare you’re the screaming, crying product of life beginning. You can keep going – go on forever. See the past so deep it falls away to the very start. See the death that proceeds life.

You will see yourself.

Tim’s Journal 1987 When all of the emotional commotion calmed down, we finally conceded to go to bed. The girls slept in the friend’s house and my husband, my son and I went out to our trailer. I laid down, exhausted, and let everything run through my mind. Tired and sad, I fell asleep.

Emilia who? Bob Hoover? Frank Tallman? Paul Mantz? Art Scholl? Kermit Weeks? Julie Clark? Wiley Post? Richard Bong? Charles Lindberg? Me.

How can you know me if not them? How can you know them if not me?

Tim’s Journal Fall 1985

I awoke the next morning realizing that I’d had a dream. I dreamt that I had

talked with Tim in a garden setting, sitting on a white marble bench. Other people were wandering around, some sitting on benches, and everyone was wearing white. I asked Tim what it was like to be dead. Although I couldn’t the conversation word for word, what he told me seemed to go along with my beliefs. This was a very comforting dream to help me get through the days that were about to unfold.

Long trip and the first darkness I have seen at night since I arrived up here in April. Rained most of the way. Arrived here at Cindy’s friend’s house 8:00 am approx. Have spent the morn mostly on phone notifying more friends and relatives and conjecturing. Have ed 1st Sgt McKinner of Troopers about arranging a visit to site A.S.A.P. He must his captain tomorrow morn 8/16 to get approval and since the F.A.A. has sealed the site they also must approve. Hope we don’t have to raise a fuss to get this done. Have ed so many people won’t try to list them all here. It is now approx 6:00 pm and after resting for a few hours am still so dizzy and woozy as can be, too much in too little time. If God is real why does he or she do this to us? More later maybe. Hope I can handle all this. Tim Tim Tim Tim Tim.

Father’s Journal August 15, 1993

Had my girlfriend not found us and talked us into staying the night, we would have been off in a remote area fishing, and it would have been days before we knew about my brother and his plane being found. What inspired my girlfriend to look for us? I don’t know, but I am grateful for whatever powers may be that helped put me where I needed to be at the right time. It was also interesting that we had chosen that particular week to go on vacation. Everything seemed to be orchestrated for us to be together as a family in the Anchorage area at that crucial time.

Since we had been given the news of Tim’s discovery late Saturday evening, not much could be done until Monday. The agencies we needed to work with were not open. We spent all day Sunday speculating, wondering, resting, making more phone calls to family and friends, and waiting. It was a long day, and we felt frustrated because there wasn’t much to do but sit and wait.

He is the pilot. Fire burns in his heart. His soul aches with the truth – the futility of life. Infinity once found a happy boy and the burning ashes alone survive – he is forever dying. Speak to him of the king of pain.

He burns – he flies – he wants to be free from it all. To fly is the only way, the only way. He knows down inside that death will find him there – crushed by violence that he wrought upon himself – somehow when it is time he won’t regret it at all.

Peace – quiet peace at last.

Tim’s Journal August 9, 1983

Our “See you later” had turned into a real goodbye. The river that I had been riding had deposited me here in another swirling whirlpool. I was being tossed and turned in an emotional eddy and it wasn’t quite ready to let me exit.

…And the newly purchased dip netting net, it sat empty and unused.

Chapter 11

AND SO THE SKY SHALL BE MY HOME...

Floating in an empty world. No light, no dark, no sound. Pain Joy, good, bad – all emotion, feeling, - all life ebbs away into the edge, disappearing and taking it as well – re-living dimension and so destroying time – death floods in.

Tim’s Journal 1981

On Friday August 13, 1993, Tim’s plane had been found in a ravine above the town of Chugiak, Alaska, crashed and badly burned.

The sky… it awaits me forever. Calling me till my death. Like the sailors of yesterday who were so desperately called to the sea, so I am called to the sky, and its endless bounds – forever to be my freedom. Yet so ironically – to surely be my end. As well for what that endless chasm claims for it shall forever be its own gift are so great, yet its mercy is not. All who dwell there will surely be smote down by its ions.

So what draws the soul of I to that place? What is it that willingly takes destruction over the world below? Why not seek the mundane horrors of a slow death in that mass of social chaos and hatred down there among them? Why does my heart pound still to feel the last ties destroyed that hold me to my home?

Looking up to those lucky souls who dwell in my kingdom. I still feel envy I cannot convey even to myself – but I know that my soul belongs there – it is my home. Maybe it’s so because I am a loner. Maybe because I search for a perspective above the common man. Or maybe I am simply called to what is the edge of my civilization – just as the warriors of Egypt or the sailors of the Viking ships were - to see what is beyond seeing. It matters not the cause for the effect is what governs us all – we seek our fortune where we may but it is the fortune we seek – and not realizing the fortune is the journey itself.

And so the sky shall be my home. – My life yet my death surely as well. But I seek it still and pray to be among the stars one day – to see myself.

And the sky – ah the sky. One day I pray I will not have to look up to see its realm – my realm.

Tim’s Journal October 8, 1981

Two young men hiking a trail in Chugach State Park found Tim’s plane. They had strayed from the path and got confused where to go, so they ventured into the ravine to follow the stream back down the mountain. This is where they came upon his plane. They began looking at it and knew it had to be reported. They hiked back down to the nearby house where they were staying and called the police. The next day, one of the young men led authorities to the crash site. The authorities consisted of a person from each of these agencies: the Alaska State Troopers, NTSB – (National Transportation Safety Board) and FAA – (Federal Aviation istration). They went to the crash site to investigate and to determine whom the plane belonged to.

They looked through the wreckage for things that would prove the identity of the plane and its owner. Normally, there is a metal plate with the plane’s

identification information on it, but Tim’s plane was so badly burned that the plate was completely unreadable. They eventually, late in the day, found a piece of his wing cover with his plane numbers printed on it, that somehow had not been burned.

In Alaska, pilots use wing and engine cowling covers to protect their planes from snow and ice when they are parked during the winter. On the wing covers the plane identification numbers are largely printed on them. When pilots are ready to fly, they remove the covers and have clean, dry, wings and engine cowling. One of these wing covers is what was miraculously saved for Tim’s plane identification. This was the only way the authorities were able to identify the plane and notify us about it. If not for this, we might have waited a long time to know it was Tim’s plane. It is interesting to note that as bad as this fire was, it mysteriously burned around this part of a wing cover with his plane numbers visible to be identified. What are the odds that something like this would ‘just happen’?

The mans history – They caught him in the valley just short of his target. He was wide open, screaming along just above the weeds – then he was gone. A full blast caught him right square in the midsection. She burned and disintegrated right in front of us. You could just see it there, the whole thing was aflame – aluminum, everything was just burning. And it just slowly tumbled through the air as it just decayed – I mean it was all there at first and then slowly it wasn’t there anymore – pieces of the form just slowly tearing away until there was nothing left. I think we could hear him screaming too. We were right in there behind him – I mean right there – It could have been any one of us but it was him. He never came home. We all sat around after and wondered why it was him. Nobody cried, but I still got the feeling everyone was crying. It seems everything is out of control.

Tim’s Journal October 1983

Our friend’s house provided a base and a much-needed phone. We were able to spend most of the week at their house while we were finding out all of the particulars of Tim’s accident.

So many things had to be done, so many questions to be answered, and so many phone calls to make. Father talked with all of the various agencies making arrangements. Since he was the next of kin, he was obligated to deal with all of the legalities. We dealt mainly with a State Trooper and an investigator from the NTSB. The State Trooper seemed genuine, very nice and did what he could for us. State Troopers are the ones on scene to retrieve the remains of the deceased. The NTSB agent was there to investigate the accident and to try and determine the cause. We were rather displeased with the NTSB agent, who seemed somewhat blunt and rude. He basically told us that Tim was just an inexperienced pilot who flew his plane into the ground, due to bad weather. This did not sit well with us. This man had never met Tim and knew nothing about him. How did he make this determination in just a few hours with very little information about the deceased? We had known Tim his entire life, and didn’t feel that this was a fair assessment. Even if this was the truth, we needed more information in order to prove it.

This Morning I called as many people and media that hadn’t been notified before and gave them information about the finding of Tim’s plane and his remains. Also called 1st Sgt. Frei who gave me the names of the climbers who found the plane, the phone number where they are staying Charleston residence. Names are Tony Wrengle [Address and Phone #]and Andrew Linder [Address and Phone #]. Sgt. Frei also said they are planning a 1:30 time to visit the site weather ok Jim Freddon of NTSB called and I asked him why we had not been notified earlier instead of Saturday night since the wreckage was discovered Friday 13 of August. His explanation was that they didn’t feel they had proof of the identity of the plane until 6:00 pm or so Saturday evening made possible by the wing cover.

Father’s Journal August 16, 1993

Today is the day Charles Lindberg died in 1974. the man walking down the street in Colorado Springs while I sat on the curb in front of the carpet store? how you sat in front of the radio in disbelief as you heard it over and over on channel after channel? him? I always wanted to meet him. He was the greatest hero of all. A man to respect.

Tim’s Journal August 26, 1986

Article is copyrighted and used with permission by Homer News

Father arranged for he and I to be flown to Tim’s crash site by the State Troopers. We really wanted to see the place he had gone down to make our own notes about how it all looked. We were curious about the position of the plane. It was unfortunate for us to hear that the wreckage had been moved around a lot during the investigation, so we wouldn’t know how it had all actually looked before being disturbed.

We did meet the Troopers and took the helicopter to the site, landed on the mountain top, walked down the very steep mountainside to the stream and wreckage in the almost vertical slash in the mountain, we looked over and checked it, Sgt. McKinner of Troopers told us of basically how they rolled it over and around and bent and moved things out of the way so they could get the body remains and the things wanted for the investigation by NTSB and F.A.A. obviously it was in a different attitude before we saw it, this was confirmed by the two hikers, when we talked to them after retuning to Trooper headquarters. They described to us what they saw and it looked as though the plane had come in almost straight upstream then maybe nosed over (but with great velocity). The remains of Tim’s body were still in the plane visible but the skull was not in sight, they had to dig it out from under the engine (what does that tell you). Maybe something decapitated him on impact. It is also strange that the wing covers

were under and had to be pulled and dug out. The comments made by the three investigators included wondering where the other horizontal stabilizer was apparently they did not find it and neither did we see it but of course there are probably many things I did not see or recognize if I did see them. Climbing back up that mountain to the helicopter was a real chore for me. I am sure out of condition.

Father’s Journal August 16, 1993

Three days after Tim and his plane had been found, we went to the State Troopers’ headquarters in Anchorage, to board the helicopter to take us to the crash site. I was grateful for the experience, having never flown in a helicopter, even though the circumstances were not optimal. My father and I climbed in with the State Trooper and pilot and flew over Anchorage on our way to Chugiak. We flew up the mountainside towards the ravine and set down on a small, level space of ground as close as possible to the crash site. We unloaded from the aircraft and the Trooper readied the supplies we would need for our hike. Ahead of us was a hike up the mountain quite a distance, then a descent down the side of the ravine with a rope. I was fine with all this, but my father was sixty-nine years old and had a history of heart problems, so he had to be careful. Nothing, though, was going to stop him from doing this.

After getting out of the helicopter, I stood surveying the mountainside where we had landed. The Trooper, standing next to me, commented, “If a person had to die then this is certainly a beautiful place to do it.” I agreed with him as I looked at the scene set out before me.

Wings melt, world turns itself slowly above me and I swallow it in its entirety. Falling, always falling, lazily spinning myself away to the earth. The violence gone – peace in a gentle turn of propellers in the wind.

Tim’s Journal May 31, 1983

I stood on that mountainside above Chugiak in the Chugach State Park, looking out across the land below, and gazed upon a beautiful scene. I saw the land cascade down to Knik Arm, an arm of ocean water coming off Cook Inlet. I saw the blue sky as it met the land and water. I saw the beautiful, magnificent mountains in the distance. I saw trees and other abundant, green plant life. I stood there taking it all in, committing it to memory. It was a surreal feeling. How could this be me standing on the side of this mountain in Alaska? Why was it my brother that was in this wreckage? I should have been distraught and crying, but I had a peace about me, or perhaps it was shock. The reality hadn’t actually hit me yet, however, this was something that I felt compelled to do. I had to know what had happened to Tim, and if it meant seeing the place where his life ended then that was what I would do.

But I can see the Sunset now. If only to clear my conscious It is there. I can let you let me go Now.

Tim’s Journal October 1, 1983

Once at the crash site, we began looking over the wreckage. Aeronca Champ airplanes are fabric planes, and if they burn, all that is left is some metal and metal tube framing. Tim’s plane was just a pile of bent, burnt, and distorted metal tubing, with plant life tangled in its midst. There were also metal pieces scattered about, with hints of red on them. It did not resemble Tim’s plane at all.

The plane had impacted into the hillside with such great force, it completely bent the nose underneath the rest of the plane. We discussed and tried visualizing how it had been before being twisted and moved around by the investigators. The State Trooper with us tried to describe how things had been before being moved, but seeing it with our own eyes would have been best.

On the side of the ravine was a large, oval, bare patch of earth with no plants growing on it. This was thought to be the actual impact spot. The plane wasn’t on this spot when we were there. The speculation by investigators was that the plane had hit and slid down.

We walked all around the crash site as best we could. It was steep, with lots of small trees, bushes and foliage. Having been there for ten months, the wreckage had been covered with snow, the snow had melted into spring, and new plant life had grown up through the summer.

We found things on the ground near the wreckage. We found a little flashlight just lying there in the dirt, strangely unscathed, and a few other little odd and ends that were not burned or charred. The flashlight still worked and my father kept it and used it for years before the batteries finally gave up. We thought these things had been thrown out of the plane on impact but wondered why they were not burned. In the years since I have speculated that the investigators could have pulled them from the wreckage and tossed them on the ground. We also found remnants of things that had burned. Some buttons from the Levi pants Tim had purchased as a gift for Tom, with the material burnt off them. There were also many burnt cans of Marvel Mystery Oil scattered about. Those were the things Tim had loaded in his plane before he left, important clues that said for sure that this had been Tim’s plane.

I had feeling of peace and comfort while walking around and standing next to the destroyed plane that took my brother’s life. It seemed that I should have been very emotional, but I was not. I believe in dimensions beyond this tangible

world, in spirituality. I felt Tim there with me whispering in my ear, “It’s just a crashed plane and I’m fine.” In spite of how horrendous this was, I felt a calmness surrounding me. His body had been destroyed, but that was only a vessel, the true Tim still lived on, somewhere else, in another realm. This gave me comfort.

We took the time we needed at the crash site, examining all that we could while trying to deal with all of it. Had we let emotions take over we would not have been able to function. Thank goodness I had the strength and to do this task. Seeing what can happen to an airplane when gravity grabs hold of it can be very disturbing. Perhaps it helped that it didn’t look like his plane and none of his remains were there to see.

I didn’t keep track of the time while rummaging around the crash site. First Father and I each looked at things alone and then together speculating on different scenarios. I also talked with the Trooper, searching for answers to my questions. Some people would never want to see that sort of thing, but father and I felt very strongly that we needed to do this. We shared the need to solve this mystery.

My brother Tom was one of those who did not want to be included in this. He was in Colorado at the time Tim and his plane were discovered and did not return to Alaska until later in the week. Perhaps things were orchestrated to happen this way for him as well. He may have been spared from being there while all of this was going on.

After we had spent the time needed at the crash site we had to hike back up out of the ravine to the helicopter. Getting back was partially uphill, and even more difficult. I walked behind my father, watching him closely, concerned for his health. He stopped periodically to take nitroglycerin pills so he could make the hike. Once safely back to the helicopter, we loaded our gear and ourselves. The helicopter lifted off and we flew back up into the Alaskan summer air, making

our way back to the State Troopers’ Headquarters. Our request to see the crash site had been granted.

Afterward, we sat with the State Trooper in his office. While there he received a message of a phone call regarding Tim’s crash. He returned the call. A woman explained that she had seen the newspaper article announcing Tim’s plane being found and claimed to have seen smoke from the mountain near her home at around the date and time he had gone missing. She was sure it was a Friday in October but was not certain of the date. She tried to report it to the fire station, but was unable to get anyone to take her call. The State Trooper was dismissive, telling her that from her address she would not have been able to see smoke from where Tim had gone down. We listened to this conversation and became increasingly curious. My father asked if we could have her phone number. The State Trooper gave it to us, but said that it wasn’t possible that she was right. We didn’t care. We wanted to find out for ourselves.

Father called the woman and arranged a visit to her home the next day. It interested us to see where she lived in conjunction to the crash site. She told us that her father was a pilot and she would often fly with him. When she had seen the smoke that day she had become very concerned. The smoke looked like it came from a place on the mountain where a plane could have gone down, higher than houses were built and where planes flew, which is why she had tried so hard to report it. She had made the attempt several times, but couldn’t find anyone to listen to her.

After going to this woman’s home and having her show us where she had seen the smoke, we felt it was very possible that what she had seen was the smoke from Tim’s plane.

Today Cindy and I and Lily and Cody went to Mrs. Cream’s home and she pointed out where she had seen the black smoke column last October. She is not absolutely sure of the day but I am certain it was from Tim’s plane burning.

Father’s Journal August 17, 1993

Why was no one around to report a fire to? Another curiosity that didn’t make sense. Going back to spirituality, maybe I can put it into context. What if those powers that be had intervened because we were meant to go through those ten months of learning? What if that was one of the learning experiences that we needed in this life? Perhaps we could only learn by going through that period of wondering.

Tim and his plane were now ed for, but this did not close the book to the story. Many questions were still left unanswered. There was more investigating to do. We were going to continue on this river we had been on a little while longer. The current had moved us to the bank, but had not given us an ideal landing place.

After ten long months of wondering, praying, pleading, fasting, hoping, searching, stress, anguish, and anxiety, we had our answer. The unofficial flight plan that had been opened on October 9, 1992 at approximately 1:15 pm was closed on the afternoon of August 13, 1993. The outcome was not what had been hoped for.

Tim’s Poem

A Tear in My Eye

A tear in My Eye,

I Look to the Sky. Clouds obscure my view. I think of you And my heart is sore, For the one I will know no more. At least it seems, I can only see you in my dreams. For the answer I search in vain, But only the memories remain. Sadness envelops me, Wraps its arms around me tight. I search for the light, In it I can find comfort. My spirits soar high, Back to the sky. Life is gone, yet remains, Beyond some veil somewhere. A quiet peace comes to my soul. And yet I will miss you, While we are apart. You will always be in my heart,

But the tear will always be in my eye. Cynthia Young Fackrell 1993

Chapter 12

SALVAGING THE ASHES

What was once the greatest, most beautifully arranged structure of metal, glass, & rubber has now become – after a few short seconds of chaotic terror – a mangled heap of twisted scrap in the sand and grass of her home.

May all who knew her heed her warning – mans love will always come back, mans disrespect and negligence will inevitably return also.

Tim’s Journal December 1, 1976 Once the crash site was opened to us, the NTSB told Father he was responsible to remove the wreckage.

He (Jim Freddon) also said that they didn’t want anybody at all to visit the site until their investigation was complete. No one that is since even walking around it might damage evidence, nor should anyone touch anything. Later he called back and said that the state wants the wreckage removed A.S.A.P. due to fluids leaking into and running downstream with the water. They are going to release the wreckage to me because now I am legal owner and as such responsible for removing the wreckage, now I have to arrange for that and storage where they can finish their investigation. That may be a problem.

Father’s Journal August 16, 1993

At first he was told we couldn’t visit the site, then within a matter of hours they told Father it had to be removed right away, at his expense, because it was in the Chugach State Park, leaking toxic oils. It had been there for ten months, so any damage had been already been done, but they insisted on having the wreckage removed as soon as possible. I believe in taking care of our environment, and that we should be very aware of how we treat the earth, but it seemed odd for them to do such an abrupt turn around on us within a few hours. The investigation seemed to be closed and everything made Father’s responsibility. My grieving father was left with this daunting task, and it weighed heavily on his mind.

Spent most of this day on the telephone trying to make arrangement for removing wreckage of Tim’s plane from its resting place in the Chugach Park. Finally was able to decide on Joe Heelier who was referred. He can do the job tomorrow weather permitting so authorized the job. He can take three so Tom Fackrell can go along if he wishes, I hope he does. Called Mr. Inkson, CAP Commander at Birchwood composite squadron, and he o.k.’d putting the wreckage at the CAP if we wished to at S.E. end of hanger outside of course. All of this took all day telephoning.

Father’s Journal August 17, 1993

Then went to Birchwood Airport and called Joe Heelier who then flew into there and he and Tom Fackrell then flew out to the crash site and recovered the wreckage which Joe brought back in two trips. First one the engine and tube frame which was still attached, then a net full of all the smaller pieces and belongings that were left. They cleaned up the site as well as possible and Tom took photos of what they had done for our future and to show the park ranger what we had done. The last trip with the chopper was to bring Tom back. I called Mr. Freddon of NTSB when all was at the Airport and informed him of same and made appointment to meet him at 11:00am tomorrow morn 8/19 so that he may complete his inspection of wreckage for his investigation. Since we are supposed

to have high winds and rain tonight Tom and Cindy went to town and brought back tarps (2) with which we covered things for the night. This then ends the active search. May God help me now.

Father’s Journal August 18, 1993

My husband volunteered to go with the helicopter pilot and remove the broken, burned remains of Tim’s plane. They made several trips, wrapping the metal plane parts in a net and lifting it and flying it to Birchwood airport. They cleaned up as best they could. After this was all done, my husband created a marker with stones at the actual place of impact. He took pictures of the site to prove that the area was clean. All of the horrific signs of an airplane crash were gone. Now only memories and pictures remained.

I have come to believe that enthusiasm is either chilled or stilled in all cases, for it seems that the world resents it. Maybe it’s the change involved or maybe it’s like ole’ Newton said – “things at rest tend to stay at rest”. Whatever it may be it sure is sad. Sometimes I wonder if maybe God looks around and sees someone stirring things up to much, helping people a little too much and finding out just a little too much about life. Just threatening to upset the world a little too much so God reaches out and ZAPO! So much for one life. Too bad.

Tim’s Journal 1978

The wreckage was flown to Birchwood airport, a small airport in Chugiak, almost directly northwest, looking down from the crash site. The CAP graciously let us leave the wreckage outside their buildings. They would use it to teach, as a visual of what to look for during an aerial search for a downed plane. They also let us camp there for a few days, and let us use their bathrooms and shower

while taking care of the wreckage before we had to go home.

Here is another day in which I have to face knowing that another part of myself will not be with me physically the rest of my tenure on the earth, in spirit will be, but no longer will there be the laughter and comradeship of father and son that existed before. We spent so much of his life together that there will remain a great void in mine. The occasional lack of verbal communication is one thing I wish we had resolved. Mr. Freddon of NTSB came today and finished his inspection of the wreckage and released the entire package to me. He seems to have a preconceived idea of what the cause of this crash was and he may be right, but I do not think so. Part of their reasoning seems to be to put so much fear into pilots of small aircraft that they will be afraid to do anything that the desk jockey’s rule books say is not perfectly safe. They do not seem to realize that life has no certainty or complete security, everyone who lives takes a gamble with that life every day and cannot live by a restrictive set of rules which are wrongfully disguised. After Mr. Freddon left we sorted thru the pile of smaller pieces then covered it again till Tom can see it Saturday when he returns to Alaska form Colorado. I talked to him on the phone and he says he will wish to see what is here. The Birchwood CAP people would like to keep the wreckage to use as visible aid in instructing their people for search and rescue. Don’t the name of the person who made this request but will try to get it later. Also talked to some people who are here and are checking their log books to see what they had noted for weather Oct. 9th 1992 or if they had flown that day. I called the chief Ranger for Chugach State Park to tell him the wreckage had been removed and the site cleaned, he was not in so left message, also that we had photos of clean up if they wish them, we will likely send or give them anyway. Will stay here at Birchwood Airport by CAP hanger till Saturday 8/21 if possible, will leave after Tom gets here. Must Trooper McKinner or 1st Sgt Frei and find out status of autopsy and of the photos taken by Sgt McKinner on the first visit to crash site. Must try to talk to coroner about possibility of decapitation.

Father’s Journal August 19, 1993

There was another mystery left to solve, the missing tail piece, the left stabilizer, which had not been found. With all of the investigating that had been done, they never went and searched to find it. The NTSB told us that they only searched a thirty-foot diameter around the crash site. We wondered, once again, why this was not viewed as a serious piece of the puzzle, since the stabilizer was a vital part of the plane needed for flight. The investigator did not address this as a serious issue. He felt it had broken off due to over- stress of the airplane in its decent. This became a growing question we were going to have to delve into.

A machine bound in itself frozen solid. Shafts won’t turn, parts won’t move – machine, it’s useless, slowly consuming itself in ineffectuality. He is dying.

So terribly frustrated.

Tim’s Journal November 1983

Another frustrating issue to deal with was Tim’s remains. We were told all that remained was skeletal. Most of his bones were with the wreckage, but some were scattered a little ways from the site. The reality in any wilderness area is that animals will scavenge. We were lucky that his remains were mostly intact. The State Trooper who gathered them gave them to the Anchorage coroner. We asked the NTSB agent if we could view them, but were told that to do so we would have to have a clergyman with us. That was insulting to my father and me. We were adults and the next of kin. Why couldn’t we see our loved one’s remains, as requested? They had no right to deny us that privilege. Maybe their having to wait for proof through the dental records had something to do with it, but that was not given as their reason. We could have and perhaps should have insisted, but our reasoning powers were clouded with emotion at the time.

So far today I have called Sgt. McKinner and informed him of retrieval of wreckage and its present where-abouts. He tells us that dental records have not yet been received and that photos will probably be back Monday 8/23. Called coroners office and spoke to Terri who said it is not her case but she accessed the file and gave me the name of the Dr. who performed the autopsy, it is Dr. Drew Trenton who says autopsy is complete except for dental record identification. These records not yet received by crime? Lab. Dr. Trenton says 2nd cervical vertebrae of spine broken meaning instant death. Also many traumatic fractures of other remaining bones some could be from fire but he thinks most were trauma caused as for remains. All bones were there, including arm and leg bones (the hikers who found the plane said they didn’t see arm or leg bones). The remains are still at the lab awaiting dental records will be released to our choice of mortuary when final positive identification is made. Have told Cindy she and Tom must help decide what to do with remains. I wish that these were things we did not have to do but I want to do whatever possible for the memory and welfare of my offspring. Too many loved ones have been taken from me in this life. Would like to continue my life without having to do this any more.

Father’s Journal August 20, 1993

Another Morning?

A Plea to God

How could anyone die today? It seems an insult to the world to die today. Especially in the morning. The morning has so much promise so much hope – hope for life. To shatter it, to die now is terrible.

The night is time for death, of darkness and fear. The night is the time to die. When the sun goes down and the lights of the world are extinguished life sinks away with the sun to fade in other worlds. Yes the night is the time to die.

But the morning is life, life and love. The sun comes home and sets fire to the world – to begin all our lives. It is no time to die. Oh God, why must you have killed this girl on this morning, the beginning of this beautiful day? After days of rain the sun comes home to her and you killed her. Why end on this beginning? Why end at all? Look at his girl. Look at her life. God look at what you have done.

Tim’s Journal January 17, 1979

I don’t like going to funerals and looking at or touching the deceased, I think this is rather morbid. The only purpose it would serve is to give affirmation that it was really the person who had died. In Tim’s case, I felt differently. Since I knew I would see only bones, I didn’t think it would be so bad. Not seeing any part of his body in the deceased state provided no closure. It may seem absurd and morose, but not being able to see Tim’s remains was disturbing, especially since he had been a missing person for so long. I wanted assurance that the remains were really Tim’s, because my mind kept playing the “What If” game, conjuring up scenarios of him still alive. I wanted to be shown the actual matching dental records so that I could know for sure. I found myself wondering if his death was somehow faked and he was in the witness protection program. This may seem irrational, but the mind never stops when a loved one mysteriously flies out of your life.

In reality I was not in charge of any of this. Father, considered next of kin, had the power to do whatever he wanted with Tim’s remains. In a few days the dental records would prove that it was indeed Tim, at least we had to take the coroner’s

word for it. My father gave permission to have Tim’s remains cremated. That being done, we would wait for them to be mailed to my home.

The week was over and our obligations fulfilled. Tom was flying back from Colorado. He had missed all that had transpired, not wanting to be part of it, anyhow.

Spent this day relaxing and waiting for Tom to get here. Cindy and family went to the airport and met him and drove him here (Birchwood CAP building). Tom looked over all that was there and took a couple of wrenches and the tail wheel, then went to Homer. Cindy and family left for Eielson, but I am staying the night here, just don’t feel up to driving tonight, too much to get ready and don’t want to drive in the dark and rain.

Father’s Journal August 21, 1993

Our vacation week, dealing with the ing of my brother, was not the kind of vacation I would have chosen. With so much going on, plus taking care of my family, I didn’t have much time to grieve. That would have to come later. Though the swirling storm of the last ten months seemed to be ing, there were still clouds forming and blowing in.

Right now I’ve got a really lonely feeling. Like I lost something, something really valuable. Something I never knew, I entirely missed, ed by and forgotten. It feels like the ghosts of the past who were so troubled have come home to all of us. Tragic days with no hope and no justice that once were, are vomited forth in our memories. The times that held so much unknown confusion and problems. They seem like a wound that has healed, but has left a scar so great and pains so sharp we shall live in their memory for eternity. These things have changed our whole life and time and attitude. They hurt us so much.

Tim’s Journal February 9, 1979

When all of the unusual activities of this week were done, we drove away, leaving all we’d just lived through behind us. As we traveled home, I wondered about this river journey I had been on, would it smooth out now, and would I be able to find a beautiful aqua pool to float calmly in?

Chapter 13

AMBIGUOUS ANSWERS

Whether you’re looking out or looking in is a matter of perspective. In and out are only apparent to the observer, not the system. Where you stand may be apparently different to you than to another point of perspective.

Tim’s Journal May 7, 1981

Father stayed behind in the Anchorage area to continue looking for answers and the people to help him find those answers. Very resourceful, he always found ways to get what he wanted done.

Today spent some time this morn getting ready to depart, then talked to the member of CAP for some time, gave them a set of prints taken of the remains of Tim’s plane and the prints of the Champ wreckage at Hatcher for their use as a teaching aid.

Father’s Journal August 22, 1993

We had spent so much time concentrating on the area closer to Fairbanks, not much had been researched in the Anchorage area. We were just about to start searching the area near Anchorage when Tim was found. Still strongly motivated, Father was busy gathering weather reports from the Anchorage area.

He talked with Birchwood CAP , requesting them to check their log books for any notations about weather on October 9, 1992. One pilot told him that he had recorded it being VFR on that afternoon, which led us to believe it may not have been weather that caused Tim to crash. We also had other people tell us that they ed the weather for that day being mostly clear.

The world shall march on to infinity building its own road and its own soldiers from the dying ashes of soldiers since gone and knowledge unknown. The world marches off to infinity.

Building a road from knowledge unknown and soldiers from soldiers long since gone. Where it is going there knows not one. The world marches off to infinity…

You – you are not the evolution of man, or life, or time. You are only the link between the past and the future.

Tim’s Journal 1981

He also went back to the NTSB and State Troopers numerous times to ask more questions and get their photos from the crash site.

Again visited the NTSB office early this morn and talked with Jim Freddon. He says skull was not under engine and that he dug it out, says the horizontal stabilizer would probably not be in the creek canyon as he believes it came off in the air in what he thinks was the stress when the pilot became disoriented and went inverted. His opinion hasn’t changed, he is calling it human factor, immature, inexperienced, young pilot (an easy way out for him, my opinion of course). Eliminates work for him and since it is only an individual no big

pressure to do a thorough investigation, (my opinion again). From there visited the Troopers again after calling Cindy and advising her to call Jim Freddon and ask the question she has. Sgt. McKinner explained photos which were much better then the ones shown me by Jim Freddon. McKinner also say skull was not under engine but was partial obscured by pieces of cowling that is connected to dash below windshield. He had to scoop out debris next to it so he could move it back and out. He has better info then Jim Freddon. He also says the piece of wing cover was the only fabric not burned.

Father’s Journal August 27, 1993

When Father left Anchorage, he went to Homer to visit Tom. Tom had formed his own theories about what had happened to Tim, and didn’t see it the same way Father and I did, and was not willing to be a part of the continuous investigating. He felt that Tim had made bad choices and got himself into trouble, and was ready to close the book, be sad, and move on. He did feel that losing Tim was a terrible waste, and I agreed. Tim had a lot to offer this world, and it is a shame that we lost that. I know Tom loved Tim, and it was very hard to have this happen to him. They were brothers that shared many fun times together and bonded in a special way. As the sister in the middle I was envious of this.

Went to breakfast… Afterwards talked with Tom at length about Tim and the effect and consequences of his accident and death. He expressed his feeling of possible contribution to Tim’s state of mind, but still maybe doesn’t realize that Tim was operating as an independent person doing his own thing and no different than the way Tom has done in his own life. I think we have established a better basis for future communication in the future. We have all suffered greatly from Tim’s disappearance and the final outcome, but that is because of what we see as our personal loss. Considering that apparently there was little, if any, suffering for Tim, we must just carry him in our hearts and proceed with life, but it is just one

more heartache for me that will always be there constantly. I hope I can convey that to Tom to follow his dreams…

Father’s Journal August 29, 1993

Quiet day – rain – called Sgt McKinner twice but could not make . Called Dr. Trenton, but he has not yet received the dental records. Tried to call the F.A.A. man Kent Barry, but could not get him. Called Cindy she says she has made an appointment for us with mortuary in Fairbanks for Wednesday Sept. 1st. Called Mr. Inkson at Birchwood C.A.P to Vern Kraig who was getting weather in Anchorage as member of CAP. also to ask him to ask his people again if anyone else had definite record or memory of weather at Birchwood Oct. 9th 1992 afternoon and evening. Had BBQ with Tom at his house.

Father s Journal August 30, 1993

This is the 31st, last day of August and am now ready to leave here, Homer Airport, for the trip north. Am only waiting for Tom to come by so we can say see you later then be on my way. Here he is now. We said our see you laters and I drove to Anchorage where I went to the weather people and had them go over the weather report copies of Anchorage, Palmer and Merrill Field with me. They say Merrill and Palmer appear to be VFR for the Oct. 9th date. I called Mr. Kent Barry of FAA, but never able to get him, but was able to get the secretary to leave a note on his desk. Wanted to look at photos of crash site. Drove on to Maple’s place where I parked for the night.

Father’s Journal August 31, 1993

Returning to Fairbanks, Father now had to make arrangements to bring home Tim’s remains.

Cindy and I met with the Mortuary people and I cannot accept the services they want to sell us. All I want is to take Tim’s remains home in whatever condition is best. Spending money will not bring him back and I must finish taking care of him. Must call the pathologist Dr. Trenton and the coroner tomorrow and see what else can be done. I hope my thinking is o.k. Time will tell I guess. I am really mixed up.

Father’s Journal September 1, 1993

Called the coroner of Fairbanks and of Anchorage was given three other Funeral homes, decided on the Anchorage Funeral home who was more cooperative and less expensive then the others. Did the contract by Fax and then mailed a check. All should be complete by Friday Sept. 10th except maybe the death certificates.

Father’s Journal September 2, 1993

Have lots of small things to do yet but will try to be ready by the time the package from Anchorage funeral home gets here. Wish I could put into words what my feelings are. Indescribable. Wish Cindy would get off the dime and do the cards so we could get them to all of those who helped us so much.

Father’s Journal September 5, 1993

Uneventful day of minor jobs to help get ready for trip to Paso, wash clothes etc. Am getting anxious to be on the way, wish things would hurry up. Do not wish to stay here but am not enthusiastic about this trip either, sure wish had someone to ride with me.

Father’s Journal September 6, 1993

Tim’s remains were being cremated in Anchorage and when done would be sent to my home. Father, anxious to get started on his trip back home, was waiting for the ashes to arrive. While waiting, he spent time thanking people that had helped our family with the search. I was making “Goodbye Tim / Thank You” cards for us both to send out to friends and family. Since we were not having a funeral for Tim, these cards would act as his memorial service.

I have never met anyone who cared – you say you do, but you do only if it’s good for you – you don’t care enough. I am alone. I have a dream – anything less will leave me unhappy – I will not sell out. I will be alone forever – the promise stands. Above all, the promise stands – I am alone.

She must be perfect – I will never meet a perfect woman for she is dead. There are no more like her – God will crush each one just before I reach them.

Enough games – I will do my time here and quickly leave. Goodbye.

Tim’s Journal November 13, 1983

More questions kept coming to mind and Father was ever on the hunt to have them answered. Was anything removed from the crash site by investigators, if so, who had them, and could we get them back, please?

Mr. Kent Barry of FAA finally returned my call and told me that the only things removed from the wreckage of Tim’s plane other than his remains were personal property consisting of a set of keys and some coins which were given to Jim Freddon. He seemed surprised that these items had not been returned to us. He (Mr. Barry) also said that all photos and their negatives were also given to Mr. Freddon. Also if we have any more questions or if the FAA could help us in any way just give them a call. Based on this information a call was placed to Mr. Freddon and a message left asking him to return our call. We wish to again ask for a list of anything removed form the crash site (such as we asked Mr. Barry for) and to be given copies of the photos or at least a chance to see them. Are now awaiting a return call from Freddon. Visited T.V. stations Ch. 2, Ch 11, KJNP Ch. 3, and News Miner, Glen Karuso to personally thank them for the help and given us during our search. Also Alaska State Troopers 1st Sgt. Dakota. Must meet with Cindy tomorrow a.m. to finish the thank you cards and start sending them. Anchorage Funeral Home says Tim’s ashes will be in the mail to Eielson tomorrow (2nd day mail). Also that there is a hold up with the death certificates due to a question of which jurisdiction death occurred. Certificate apparently should be processed in location where death occurred. Certificates (5) will be mailed to California when this is resolved and finalized.

Father’s Journal September 7, 1993

Cindy and I went to Kinko’s copiers and completed the thank you cards she has made to be sent to everyone who helped us and also family . I was then finally able to call and talk to Freddon who says now we can look at the photos but cannot have a set of prints because nothing can be released due to

the ongoing investigation. When told of his statement of sealed area on Aug. 16 then the complete reversal with in a couple of hours he denies doing so and still is talking about log books, also says there was a missing annual for 1992 and there were no maintenance records for the aircraft. I informed him of the copies of the Doyle Cartright’s work order and the annual by Dennis Shaferton July 1992 were given to the State Troopers as they had requested. He requested Tom’s phone number as if he didn’t know him, I informed him that by his own ission he had talked to Tom and did know who he was. I must document all of the dealings with NTSB and send it to the Senators Murkowski and Stevens and see if we can’t change the attitudes of NTSB toward family survivors.

Father’s Journal September 8, 1993

Father and I were trying to figure out why the NTSB was being so resistant about letting us have the items and pictures related to Tim’s accident. We were also perplexed about the inconsistent statements being made to us. Father was especially frustrated with them and felt his only recourse was to appeal to the Alaska senators for help.

Have written the letter to both Senators for Alaska, Senator Murkowski and Senator Stevens it is now being typed up. The rest of this day spent preparing for the trip to Calif. (boring)

Father’s Journal September 9, 1993

Picked up letter copies and had them faxed to the Senators offices in Anchorage. Cleaned and washed motor home, addressed some thank you cards. Still waiting for Tim’s ashes but it was not in mail today. Postman tells me to call the North Pole P.O. 8:00 am tomorrow and if it is in I can pick it up, hope it is want to take it with me, otherwise Cindy will have to forward it to me. Spent the evening with

her and family. Am very tired and sore, ready for bed now, not used to doing much work, too much sitting this past summer need to get back in shape, walk more.

Father’s Journal September 10, 1993

Called Post Office and as told package was not there, proceeded to hook up truck and get everything ready to go, drove to Cindy’s and was told post office had called and said package was there. Cindy drove me down to North Pole P.O. to get it. Then I said my see you laters to her and family. It always feels like I am abandoning them, it feels that way whenever I leave any of them. Will never again have that feeling for Tim, he will be with me always in spirit.

Father’s Journal September 11, 1993

Father set out on his lonely trip back down the Alcan highway to his California home. After driving nine days, with several of those days stopped for repairs on his motor home, he finally arrived at his Paso Robles home on September 20th. He had been gone all spring and summer. He would now get his home back in order and continue on with his every day life. This is where his journaling ends. His onerous trip done, he was at home now, with the ashes of his youngest son. He was left to live with yet another loss in his wearisome life.

Also sorting out and categorizing the material from mail and paper work for Tim. Received letter from Andrew Linder who discovered Tim’s plane with map to trail to site and sketch of how the plane wreckage was when first found. Also sent follow up letter to Senator Murkowski of Alaska. It’s been a full day.

Father’s Journal September 24, 1993

After Father left for California, I finally received the package from the NTSB containing the few items they had confiscated from Tim’s crash site. There were a couple of keys, the metal identification plate (which was unreadable), and the piece of fabric wing cover with his plane numbers on it. These were my treasures now, as Father actually let me keep them. In November I also received a package from the NTSB containing twenty-six photos.

Knowing the basic outcome, and many of our questions answered, we were still left wondering why it had happened at all. We went back to our lives feeling the loss of a son, a brother, and an uncle, however, we would forge ahead into the future with this experience to learn from.

The river of our lives had boiled, twisted, turned, and left us bruised and sore. We would now pick our oars back up… and begin guiding ourselves into calmer, healing waters.

Chapter 14

A TERRESTRIAL TREK

Crying, grasping – praying for some emotion in life. He sits there in his room and re friends of long ago, thinks of the feeble bonds around him now, and wishes they could be something – anything – meaningful in life. He hurts for love that much. He drives his friends away in the end because he wishes more from them than they are capable of. If only one of them could care enough!

It is far too much to ask, we all know it, yet he hurts so much…

What is he missing and why does he hurt and never know why? Why is life such a struggle?

Tim’s Journal October 15, 1983

Living through ten months of pandemonium had completely rearranged our lives. We were now in a time of reflection, trying to make sense of everything. Even though my life had returned to normal, all this hung in my mind like drying sheets swaying in the wind. Ever present, the gentle reminders of death were always lurking near. Battle scars were hidden inside my fragile consciousness and I walked around wondering why they didn’t show on the outside. I felt as if I should be a blinking billboard representing tragedy, with everyone staring at me. But life went on, and time faded the events of Tim’s loss to the world.

In the quiet of the night it will seize you. There in the darkness it will finally find you and you will suffer with it there alone – always alone. When you are weakest, when you need her, the pain will come. Torture it will be for you forever. Love is, of all things, the most precious of all – Yet when it is lost against all will – it is truly the most painful of all things.

And so in the quiet of the night – when the heart in me can come lurking out of the cell I banished it to so long ago – I will be found there begging - crying for what I will be without forever.

Tim’s Journal May 16. 1983

Meanwhile, I was helping my children as they struggled with their feelings of loss. Although my son was too young to really understand what had happened, my two girls were very attached to Tim and had a difficult time with his ing. My middle daughter had a particularly hard time with Tim’s death and I would often find her crying alone in her room. She didn’t understand why he had to leave us. I didn’t understand it myself and was unsure how to comfort her. I tried to reassure her that she could make it through her hurt and disappointment. My oldest daughter kept her feelings more to herself, but had a difficult time also. As a family we chose to talk about Tim. We wanted to keep his memory alive by reminiscing about our fun times together, and about the things he loved.

The year following Tim’s discovery, unanswered questions kept swirling through our minds. The missing stabilizer was one of those questions and it continued to haunt us. If it could be found, perhaps it would have its own story to tell. We put an ad and article in the newspaper in the spring of 1994 urging hikers and hunters to watch for it, hoping it would be discovered.

In May, two gentlemen, friends of Father, hiked back up the ravine and found the missing tail piece along with some other small pieces of Tim’s plane.

The stabilizer and elevator with trim tabs found approx. 100 yards downstream from the site of the main wreckage of Tim’s plane. This was found by Clyde Maple who hiked up the trail and creek as a favor to us.

Father’s Journal May 28, 1994

With the mysterious, missing stabilizer now found, we made a trip to Anchorage to retrieve it from the man who had kept it for us. Finding this last piece of the puzzle started a whole new set of speculations and theories.

The stabilizer was totally burnt, no fabric left on it at all. There was only metal tubing, just like the rest of the burnt plane. The metal tubing was broken and bent, due to an impact and had been completely ripped off the plane.

Instead of answering questions, this only created more. Why was it so far away from the crash site? Several scenarios presented themselves. The plane could have clipped trees as it was coming down and ripped off the tail piece. Tim’s plane could have been hit in the air by another aircraft. The metal tubing could’ve had an existing stress fracture and might have broken off while in flight. The NTSB’s theory was that the stabilizer broke off on impact, and was thrown down the ravine, or slid down with the melting snow. They also conjectured that it could have broken off due to overstress (g forces), as his plane was being flown at a high rate of speed into the ground.

The stabilizer being completely burned told the story, though. Somehow it had to

have caught on fire. If the plane broke into flames when it hit the ground with the tail piece breaking off at the same time, how did it catch on fire? According to the NTSB’s theory, all this had to happen while it was snowing, too. We would have to try to answer these questions.

Another year ed, and we were thinking of ways to leave a memorial for Tim. We never had a typical funeral for him, so we had to find other ways to memorialize him. Honoring Tim’s remains was the next thing on our list. His ashes are all that were left of his earthly body. When we received Tim’s ashes, I was surprised at how small the box that contained them was. One person’s life condensed into a small, black plastic box. I had never experienced this before. Once my father returned home, he lovingly built a beautiful wooden box engraved with our love for Tim on it. Tim’s ashes now reside in this.

Did you ever look at a calculator? Did you ever see what is in those buttons and readouts? Do you realize what’s in there? What significance that the results and ideas that go in and come out of that piece of little black plastic? What world shaking finds could be found there?

Think about it! Every problem in all the world is locked up in that baby – every one. Just a matter of how you bring it out. The concepts of billions of years to our past and yes, future. It’s all there. THAT LITTLE BOX HOLDS EVERY SECRET, EVERY IDEA, EVERY THOUGHT WE WILL EVER KNOW. It holds all the ideas of the future. They’re all sittin’ in there. Just itchin’ to get out. Just sayin’ to me “just push the right button, see the right answer – and you will hold the key to all the secrets mankind can ever know”. And yes it’s right. But it can only speak one language – one which we aren’t quite adept at yet.

But we’re trying and it’s gettin’ better too. And you thought it was just a black box

An adding machine yet!

Tim’s Journal Early 1981

Father wanted to make sure Tim was not forgotten and decided to build a metal memorial plaque that could be put at the crash site. He planned to hike back up and place the plaque.

A hike back to the crash site seemed like a good idea. As a family, we could view the site in a new way, without trauma and carnage. We could see how life replaces itself with new growth. In nature the dead and decaying create fertile ground for new life to spring forth. Perhaps, we could use this same process in our lives, making Tim’s death the doorway to new life and new beginnings.

He flies, He is flown. He is pulled by forces within that stem from a world about him – ion exudes from his very soul. ion for life, freedom, happiness – Peace.

His decision. Greatness? It is in his hands.

Tim’s Journal January 22, 1986

In the summer of 1995, Father flew back to Alaska, not for leisure, but with a purpose as evident as the one he had the summer of 1993. He wanted to clear Tim’s name of any careless actions in flight. Because of this continued drive, he

wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around. He was still in the angry phase of grieving, and that anger many times got transferred to us. We wanted to spend enjoyable time with him, but he was continually consumed with solving the mystery of Tim’s demise.

I had sent pictures of the stabilizer to Father and he was anxious to inspect it himself. As soon as he arrived, he had little time to socialize. Seeing the stabilizer was his first request.

Arrived Fairbanks this evening met by Cindy and family at airport. Subsequently (approx) viewed remains of the left rear horizontal stabilizer from Tim’s plane which was found Memorial day 1994 by Mr. Clyde Maple who hiked up to and found crash site accompanied by David Blime who lives at the trail termination near Chugiak, AK. Mr. Maple had (in answer to my question to him by phone when notified of his finding of the missing part, the stabilizer with elevator) had sated that the leading edge of the stabilizer showed no signs of any impact. After viewing the remains of this part it was obvious that there had been considerable impact. The leading edge was broken about midway complete break! Also torn and broken from attach points of fuselage including elevator. All show signs of terrific impact.

Father’s Journal April 17, 1995

Father spent his time, while back in Alaska, talking with the different agencies again, attempting to get answers to our still existing and new questions. He had arranged for people from the University to check the engine to see if it had been running at the time of impact. This would tell us if Tim was disoriented and flew himself into the ground as the NTSB had surmised.

Rented car @ Fairbanks, drove to Wasilla visited Mr. Maple, then onto Anchorage, Federal Bldg. office of NTSB. First met with Mr. Alder and Mr. Cowan of V.A. Aviation technology Dept. @ Merrill Field, they were the people who had disassembled the engine from Tim’s plane and determined that in their opinion it was not under power at the time of crash. They also inspected the remains of stabilizer with elevator and in their opinion the covering had burned off while in flight thus causing loss of control, reason for fire unknown. (See the documentation of their findings) Continued onto Homer where met with son Tom who after inspecting stabilizer and elevator said he felt it would have been burning in flight which agreed with Mr. Alder and Cowan’s opinion. Drove back to Anchorage, turned wreckage of stabilizer and elevator over to Mr. Freddon of NTSB. Visited Maple’s again then returned to Fairbanks…

Father’s Journal May 1995

The gentlemen associated with Merrill Field and University of Alaska Anchorage wrote letters stating their findings: the stabilizer was on fire while in flight. That meant Tim’s plane would have been on fire before it crashed.

Now we had another question. Why was it on fire? One common answer is static electricity. Flying an airplane creates greater than usual amounts of static electricity, which can create sparks. Tim was carrying four five-gallon gas containers. If he had stopped along the way and refueled, the emptied containers could have produced fumes. These fumes could have ignited with a static electricity spark, creating an on-board fire. Being in a fabric plane, the fire would quickly burn the fabric off and all lift and control of the plane would be lost. Could this explain the stabilizer being completely burnt if it broke off on impact and was thrown down the ravine?

If it broke off due to a stress fracture existing in the metal tubing, Aeronca Champ planes like Tim’s needed to be checked for this same defect. It was decided that this had not been the case. The stabilizer was thought to have been torn off by a great force.

We had the information about the engine and the stabilizer now, which gave us a few more answers. These findings made us believe that Tim had an in-flight fire, although we didn’t know what caused it. Father visited the NTSB, giving them our information in a plea to have them add this to their investigation.

Made phone calls and scheduled trip up the hill to crash site for 6/4/95 to place marker.

Father’s Journal May 1995

The memorial hike was planned and I wanted to go but I was not sure if we could because of my husband’s job. Luckily things went in our favor and we were able to go. We drove to Anchorage and camped in the Elmendorf AFB Fam Camp with our little trailer for the few days we were there.

On June 4,1995 we gathered at a gentleman’s house in Chugiak that my father knew. He lived at the base of the trail that went by Tim’s crash site and welcomed us to his home. A group consisting of my husband, children, Father and four other friends met at the house, ready to make our assent into Chugach State Park. It was a beautiful, sunny day, great for a hike. We walked, one by one, up the narrow trail, aware that the possibility of bears and wildlife still existed. The children kept running ahead, so we constantly reminded them to stay with us. Higher and higher up the mountain we climbed, and then down into the ravine we carefully walked, until we finally came to the crash site. As the rest of us were finding a place to put the plaque, my children found a patch of

snow in the ravine. Using a small shovel as a sled, they slid down the snow patch. In spite of the reason for being there, we were able to share laughter and smiles. Tim was there, gracing us with his spirit of peace once again.

Digging a deep hole, together we placed the metal memorial plaque into the ground, filling the hole back up with dirt and packing it in securely. Now we had a permanent memorial for any future hikers to see. It was one way to both say goodbye and preserve Tim’s memory, part of our unconventional funeral.

I was once again gazing at the view from the side of the mountain where Tim lost his life.

Nearly two years later, I stood and looked at the panoramic view as I took photographs. Again my mind was filled with melancholy and I wished that somehow I could find the answers to the questions that still plagued my soul. I wondered, as I asked God, why I had to stand there on that hillside, missing Tim.

Today is the tomorrow everybody worried about yesterday

Tim’s Journal March 1983

After the plaque was erected, we hiked back down to Mr. Blime’s house. Everybody left except one friend who ed us for a dinner out. The dinner mood was rather somber as the forlorn feeling of revisiting the crash site still hung thick in the air. Father carried this burden the heaviest, making me wish he could let go and find joy with those still left around him.

With the memorial hike now a memory, we returned home driving the Parks highway, a drive that always left me with subdued feelings. I rode along watching the terrain morphing from mountains to valley and back again. There was one open area that would often be filled with a double rainbow, which I marveled at. We had driven this so many times, before, during, and after Tim’s search, yet it still touched my emotions the same way. Looking up to the sky, and knowing that he had flown this way to get to his final destination, left me wondering. The query still haunted me, and I was presented plenty of hours to spend contemplating why. Would the answers ever come?

Father continued on his quest, while spending time with my family and Tom. We took Father along with us on outings, but he could never get past his inconsolable mindset. We went about our summer exploring the state, fishing, traveling, and playing in the water, intent on enjoying our lives in spite of what had transpired, and hoping that Father could somehow learn to do the same.

…visited the Birchwood C.A.P. afternoon of 6/3/95 talked to the commander Vic Kreanor and other . Left donation for the help they had given us in 1993.

Father’s Journal June 2, 1995

Proceeded with Cindy and family to Valdez where they had reserved a boat to go halibut fishing. As the weather was bad rain, cold, and fog I did not go fishing with them but stayed at the camp and rested in the car listening to radio and tapes and mostly sleeping, seemed to be having a fatigue problem.

Father’s Journal June 6, 1995

Returned to Eielson 6/8/95 so that the rental car can be checked in by Friday 6/9/95 am. Went to Birch lake Saturday 11th for the day with Cindy and family.

Father’s Journal June 12,1995

Father was doing his best to create a positive legend for Tim by searching for answers. Unfortunately he wasn’t able to change much. His attempt was noble, but people still formed their own opinions. What was most important was that we did our best to find the answers we needed. This led us to the truth.

When your ears have finally been assaulted so much that they hear every sound that surrounds you. When your eyes are at last so tired they see every color, every shape – when the people you are near have finally ground you down to the point where you see exactly what they are – when at last you see what is before you – then you wish to see those stars. Then you see how useless the people really are to the soul. Everything that can come of value to the individual comes from within. All the secrets, the answers they are all locked in ones heart. Beer, women, politics, life – none of it can answer any of the questions. It is only in the heart.

You go searching for answers – and alas! You find the farther you go, the more you see that they were inside all along.

Tim’s Journal November 6, 1983

Carried by the wings of a jet airliner, Father returned home, once again, alone. Another short, Alaskan, summer drew to a close and we did our best to use it wisely. Was it even possible to believe that the rest of life’s river could flow

smoothly?

Chapter 15

COLLUSION?

…But my part in society will be a greater one than a song or a dance, so beware – for my time will come….

Tim’s Journal December 30, 1978

List of Curious Coincidences or Cover Ups?

God I ask a lot of questions You’re not answering them

Tim’s Journal September 27, 1983

Let me start this chapter with a disclaimer: I am not accusing anyone of anything. I am simply compiling a list of mysterious and curious things that happened during and after Tim’s disappearance, things that just don’t add up. These are things that leave me skeptical when it comes to the accident’s investigation, things that have always left me wondering. Did something happen to make him crash, and if so, was it covered up for some reason?

What happened to Tim may have just been an unfortunate series of events causing him to crash. However, put all these things listed together and they create conspiracy theories in my mind, and I have a very creative mind! There may be something to all this, or perhaps I’m just over-thinking it.

O what way the will of Man will turn the world What tides may be born In the loves of men Of things that are or could be The mind of man shall forever rule The justice we know Will forever be decided by their hearts The abilities will Forever be judged by their limits Their death By their life

Tim’s Journal 1976

The mysterious “Edward” call

The caller stated he saw a red plane in Healy, Alaska with a military helicopter in the area. The mystery is this: Why was he calling from Kenai? Why didn’t anybody at the plant he called from know him? Why didn’t he call back?

If “Edward” had witnessed something in the actual area where Tim went down, that’s feasible. It’s an area where many military aircraft fly. Healy and Eagle could sound similar on a telephone with bad reception or with background noise. Might my husband have misheard? Was “Edward” someone who knew something that he wasn’t supposed to know, or was he calling to throw off the direction of our search in order to protect a guilty party?

We have speculated that another plane, perhaps military, got too close to Tim, clipping him or catching him on fire. This is not something they would want the pilot’s family to know. I entertain the idea that this could have happened, eliciting the need for a cover up. I’m not saying this did happen, just that it is a possibility.

What if I’m a figment of my imagination? I mean, enough of that stuff about how maybe the rest of the world is an idea in my mind – just a thought. But what if I am just a thought of my mind? And the rest of the world is real. That’s a new twist for once.

It has always fascinated me that maybe I’m not seeing things the way they really are. If maybe the green I see is brown, or blue, or red! My mind ties knots around itself about that one when I think about it. I can’t really understand it – but almost… I stand on the edge and I can’t quite get it. That’s really frustrating cause who knows? The only way to judge something like that is thru your eyes and are we really sure we can trust our eyes? I can never check it by looking thru some else’s eyes either. And what of this writing? What of the world? Can I trust any of it? This is scary cause suddenly I’m living my life by just faith alone. What if my eyes say that the ground’s just flat and there’s really a hole there? What if my eyes decide to trick me?

But, back to the subject. Say what if I, myself am just an illusion of my mind? What if I’m not really real? How will I ever know? Ask?

Tim’s Journal June 9, 1979

Crash site area left out of official search

Why was the area near Chugiak and Eagle River not included in the search? His plane was found right there, in the one place that hadn’t been covered, and one that we had questioned authorities about. Is this another coincidence?

Voom, another soul goes by – they’re going by every day, hundreds of them, will I ever them? And is it levitation? Magic? Or just understanding. An understanding we all most obviously take for granted. It is defiantly magic. I can feel it just sitting here in my heart, in those wings – one day to be mine. I am getting anxious.

It seems that we must breath even more magic into the understanding to be seen – Miracle to be understood. Sometimes I wonder about our system. It is a perpetual race to extremes (oblivion?). Where will it end? The ultimate radicality syndrome strikes again.

Floating above the clouds, dancing, dreaming in reality – I wish I was there – I wish she were there with me. Will I ever know peace? Will I ever be worthy? I guess it is up to me, ‘eh? The dream goes on. I still refuse to say goodbye.

Tim’s Journal February 8, 1984

NTSB agent dismissed the case, claiming Tim to be a young, inexperienced pilot.

It was very difficult to listen as the NTSB agent stood before my father and me, expressing his opinion, without comion, that Tim was just a young, inexperienced pilot that got caught in bad weather and flew himself into the ground. This man did not know Tim or seem to comprehend his prior training and education. We had spent so many hours trying to solve this case ourselves, more than he had spent investigating. It seemed that from the minute he saw the crash site a determination was made. We felt there was much more to it than that. Call it a gut feeling or intuition, but we sensed this is not what happened, not to mention the evidence we now had. Bring in the engine and stabilizer data and a different conclusion has to be made. These findings were given to the NTSB, but didn’t appear to be part of the final report. This is also curious.

Heart and Soul

We lost another hero. No one even noticed. It seems his heart is where mine is, it beats to the same dreams, the same ions, the same hope. He was a man of our future – the “our” that includes those who fly with the soul. He was our idle – our hero – and now? And does God really care?

Tim’s Journal 1984

Missing Stabilizer

Why was the NTSB never interested in this missing stabilizer, or what caused it to be broken off the plane? I still wonder, what part this might that have played in his untimely death?

Many planes go down in Alaska and many investigations are needed. It seems that most crashes are attributed to pilot error. If that’s often the case, investigators might not be overly motivated to spend the time needed in an investigation, but is this right? The NTSB is a government agency, run by our tax dollars. If they are funded by the tax money we pay in, shouldn’t we get a thorough investigation, done to our satisfaction?

Twenty-three years. Almost twenty-four; long enough I guess to try and understand what’s going on. I don’t understand – I don’t want to make that impression at all – But twenty-four years and there are no answers. So after that much time, and finding nothing and losing everything I start to realize that I am late; everyone else has already sold out. I’m surrounded by twenty-year olds and they’ve all already signed it off to beer and sex and cars and money. I, needless to say, feel a little alone here now – not that I ever didn’t. Looking at older folks I see that they don’t have any answers either. After lifetimes, centuries, thousands of years, there is still only one answer.

So what do you do when someone dies, when things go wrong, when you get the same reply time after time? Ignore the question of course. All that time and all we can do with the one most important question of all is simply ignore it, run away and pretend it isn’t there.

Tim’s Journal 1984

Differing answers to the burnt stabilizer

The NTSB agent stated that the cause of the stabilizer’s detachment was from the planes impact upon crashing. As I am not a trained NTSB agent, I can’t say that’s not what happened, but I have a hard time understanding how the tail piece could break off, catch on fire, and become completely burnt while flying one hundred yards from the crash site in snowy weather. In that scenario the plane was not on fire in flight, but crashed and ignited afterward. How would the stabilizer have broken off, catch on fire, and then get to where it ultimately landed?

Lady seeing smoke

The State Trooper dismissed the story from the woman who saw smoke. This has always puzzled me. She attempted several times to report it, knowing it could have been a plane. She was sure it was a Friday in October. Smoke rises and can be seen from a long distance. We can’t be one hundred percent sure, but believe that what she saw was possibly Tim’s plane burning.

Weren’t allowed to see remains

I will never understand why we were not allowed to see Tim’s remains as requested. The question still lingers.

Looking back over the years in years now to come, what will you see in this? What will you think of me? Will you ever care? Will you ever read this again?

And ah yes, I can make you do things there – right then – from right here, right now. – You are at my command! And you see that the past can control you and you are doomed to do its bidding. Oh well.

Tim’s Journal April 15, 1983

Weather Discrepancy

So many Anchorage area and weather station reports, as well as those from private pilots’ own log books report VFR flying conditions for October 9, 1992. The NTSB agent was convinced that Tim was in bad weather, got disoriented and flew himself into the ground. The weather reports did not this, so what really did happen?

Letters to Senators

We requested that anything found at Tim’s crash site be given to us, but had trouble obtaining the items from the NTSB. Father wanting immediate answers, and wrote to Alaskan Senators to request their help in this matter. My name was on the letters, but he wrote and sent them. We did get the things back, but it is a mystery why the NTSB didn’t honor our initial request without the intervention of a State Senator.

There are times in my life when I dream. I just fall into a daze and I’m fantasizing about something I’d like to do or see. Great worlds I see and great people, heroes made from the POOR. Most of all I see justice and love.

Tim’s Journal February 3, 1979

Missing report

When a crash occurs, the NTSB has a local agent conduct an investigation, who sends the report to Washington D.C. When we asked about this report, we were told it would take about a year to process and then we could get a copy. We had copies of the preliminary report, which consisted of only the facts and gave no conclusion or determination of what they felt had happened.

We waited out the year, and then in the winter of 1994 I called Washington D.C. to see if the report was ready. The person I talked with could find no report. We later found that the preliminary report had never been sent to Washington D.C. The woman I talked with seemed rather perturbed that they had not received it, and her office ed Anchorage, telling them they needed to get the report taken care of.

The mind is willing but the hand seems not to be.

Yet still it seems that this is the time to speak once again to the altar of my ever so stable, time tested, hind-sighted, collective audience – me!

So the sun shines and the world seems to be even more beautiful each day lately. Sometimes I just stand there trying to take it all in – yet no matter how hard I try, how long I stand there, I can’t ever seem to quite grasp what is there – it’s futile. And so I get that same old haunting feeling again – I feel like I’m always missing something. The scene is always incomplete. Like I have the wrong perspective or something. I feel like there’s something. I feel like there’s something I should

know and I’m right on the verge of it – and would solve so many things – yet I can never quite get it.

It’s that old hollow feeling not knowing whether you’re looking at the picture or part of it. And ‘ah what a paradox.

But, still I feel like there’s something I haven’t quite said here that I would like to.

Am I a witness to the world or am I just another piece?

Tim’s Journal January 13, 1983

Lost Documentation

After being ed by Washington D.C., Anchorage NTSB asked Father and me for copies of all our documentation regarding Tim’s crash. They had supposedly lost the original report and needed to recreate it. How did that happen?

I’d like to define a new term. This isn’t really new; it’s just that it’s never been refined before, at least by me. So I call it now. Actually it’s an old – old thing which plagues everyone I have met at some point in their lives.

The reason this new but really actually old and well know term is being subjected to attention by me, the author at this time, is that I am afflicted with its

disease. I realize that this is just another in an endless series of problems I seem to suffer from, but for me every one of these dilemmas is special and individual unto it self. All these little problems seem to flourish of themselves in total defiance of my personal health and well being. They are like owning puppies; the little creatures are impossible to control as a collective mass. If one is tended to because of its uncontrollable urges to wander into some mischief the others will scurry off in some other direction in search of trouble.

Tim’s Journal 1984

Lies from the NTSB agents?

In the summer of 1995, I went to the NTSB office in Anchorage to talk with the current agent. The original agent we had worked with had been transferred, and we were informed that we could not him. I was there to give them my documentation for recreating their report. While I was there, we discussed the photographs taken at the crash site, and told the agent that I only had twenty-six photos. He said, “Yes. We only sent the ones we felt were appropriate.” I was taken aback. The original agent told me the rest were bad photos and were too dark. I felt I had been lied to, that there were many more photos that I was not given. I couldn’t help but wonder how many more lies I might have been told. How could we trust an agency we felt had been less than honest with us? It wasn’t hard, at that point, for my mind to begin making up conspiracy theories.

The hiker that accompanied the investigators to Tim’s crash site told us that around one hundred to two hundred photos were taken while he was there. We’ve never seen nor received the additional photos in question.

There seems to be a fundamental question here that lies totally unanswered. It festers itself unendingly and will not go away. I find myself slowly going insane

over the great rift, the growing chasm of the conflict and uncertainty all this question creates. I do not understand the question either – the problem compounds itself.

Yet I do not know whether it is just that my society is trying to form me into what all others are. And I am truly not, or whether it is me – my own heart – crying out for what is truly the greatest of all things – the highest motive. And yes, how do I ever have faith in this thought when I can see so little of it all? - It is hopeless unless you blindly trust, something I cannot do. Of all the world, I see so little – how can I ever be sure with such limitations?

And oh yes me. Sometimes I think that it is more me that decides for them all than they for themselves. And I think too that maybe I just want the glory – the attention – for myself. It is then I feel as a fool.

Mostly though, I think I am confused as to what it is and what to do – the thing is that I wish the end result and not the beginnings of it all. I see no point in them whatsoever. This plus I wish for perfection for something that is not perfect – an impossible dream.

So every day the rift grows. Every day I am more consumed by it - every day I am further from resolving it. I feel I am on the edges of both truth and insanity.

Truth shall win Love shall conquer all Even me.

Tim’s Journal April 10, 1982

Report Mysteriously Reappeared

A few months after giving the NTSB all our records and information, their ‘original’ report mysteriously reappeared. We wondered where it was hiding all that time. We wondered if they thought if they accidentally lost it, we’d just forget about it? Apparently they didn’t know us very well.

Justice… Justice – world I bid you –is you. You look to your God, your rules, your books those you appoint as mighty over men – yet you never look to yourselves – you never see the truth you hold in your heart. Your greed blinds it, your peers bind it, yet you never see…

Yes world, your God will never show you more than you yourselves want to see. You people – I bid you – your justice, and your world will be forever as you wish it to be.

Many years I have wondered what justice could be and where it exists. I think I have found part of the answer in myself. Death, though, seems to be a random thing, pure chance.

And chance knows no Master – and no justice.

Tim’s Journal March 26, 1979

The Final Report

“His plane collided with the terrain”.

After all the time, money, and resources expended, this is what the final report stated. No definite reason… just a plane hitting the ground. We thought an “official investigation” would come up with something better than this.

It seems as though one reaches the age at some point when we stop asking the questions anymore – it is sad to see us all give up. We never get any answers from the real world that ever help – or even make sense. It just seems to become an endless system of despair. We seem to be getting nowhere.

Tim’s Journal 1984

It’s been twenty years since my brother flew off into the sky. I have gone over all of these things countless times in my mind, trying to make sense of them. I still cannot. If I could have definite proof that this was just “an accident”, I would let it rest.

Everybody’s out to get you, being paranoid is just good thinking.

Tim’s Journal August 13, 1986

One of my “spiritual” experiences helped to give me some comfort. One day, riding home from Fairbanks with my family, I was pondering. I was driven, like my father, wanting very badly to know what had happened to Tim. Sitting in the enger seat, staring out the window, I had an overwhelming impression come into my mind. I knew that what caused Tim to crash was not his fault, it was out of his control. The impression didn’t let me know exactly what had happened, but this experience gave me comfort and an assurance that Tim didn’t do something foolish. I could rest easy with this knowledge.

If it wasn’t his fault and was out of his control… then what really happened? Was there a cover-up or was it just a matter of an unfortunate series of events?

The life of an Engineer • not to judge • not to care • people mean nothing – the machine is supreme above all things. • To live is to design the machine, the questions of its purpose – its meaning are of no concern.

I fly out the doors and into the world of freedom, running from this for all my legs will carry me. I wanted to help, my conscience will not succumb to this, ever.

They will never catch me. • of no emotions

• not to think • follow directions

I cannot help but follow my heart. It inevitably runs me, nothing I can do can overpower it. To defy it only makes me miserable.

I want to fly. • sell your soul

My soul is dead

Tim’s Journal June 1, 1983

Sometimes I think I will always be on the subsidiary of this particular river, forever rowing against its current.

Chapter 16

MIRACULOUS COINCIDENCES

I have found that there is always a sun over the horizon. It’s always there waiting to be seen. Even when life is so dark you feel you’ll never see again, it’s waiting for you. And at those times it will rise the brightest and shine the strongest.

So arise: even at your darkest hour your brightest day is awaiting. In the moments and places you look the least for joy and happiness you may find the most.

Tim’s Journal December 31, 1978

Tim loved the stars and always wanted to be among them.

Last Saturday night I got to see Lion Redbone on S.N.L. – didn’t even know who he was till then. For his second song he decided to sing Disney’s theme “When you wish upon a star”. This being my one of my all time favorite songs, I decided to listen to it in what seems only the right way – by looking out the window at the stars and do a little wishing myself. And? – seemed only appropriate – it was cloudy.

Tim’s Journal March 14, 1983

Some say you can wish upon a star and it will come true. If I could wish, my wish would be that I didn’t have this story to tell, but that’s a wish that can’t be granted.

Though there was ample sadness and stress within this story, many things occurred during this difficult time that I consider miracles. Perhaps Tim was up in those stars making sure things arranged themselves for us. Perhaps he, the gods, angels and/or other loved ones that have ed on can grant some wishes or answer prayers. I don’t know, but a few things I do know. Many things happened that seemed to transpire just as needed. Looking back conjures up feelings of knowing that all of these things weren’t just coincidences. If they were just coincidences then they were surely miraculous coincidences.

Winning and losing today – givin up and then winning like you wouldn’t believe. No matter what happens – I’m gonna win in the end. There’s no way I’ll lose. Don’t worry in the mean time cause over the long term you’ll blast all the others into the dust – they’re all history.

Tim’s Journal 1984

I know there are “non believers” out there and they are certainly entitled to their opinion, but I know what has happened and the things I have experienced. I can’t make anyone believe anything they don’t want to. This is simply my story. To me, they were miracles from the spiritual realm.

I wanted to share the wondrous occurrences we had experienced. To hear about these miracles might help others see how a few good things can develop, even in the midst of adversity and tragedy.

Nothing, nothing is as bad as being dead.

If you ever cry for yourself then you drag yourself over to a mirror, look yourself in the eye, and thank your bloody little ass you even got the chance.

Everything after that is up to you – your choice.

Tim’s Journal June 1983

These occurrences are my miracles. They happened to make things go more smoothly throughout the tribulation. I tell you these things to prove that even when you are going through what seems like hell, you can still find a candle that’s lit for you, maybe even quite a few.

Wedding Trip to Alaska: If I hadn’t gone to Tom’s wedding in Alaska, which inspired me to convince my husband to put in for orders to go to that state, we would not have been able to be there. I do wonder, if had we not lived there, if all of this would have happened at all, but there again, you can’t change what has already happened, you can’t change fate.

Getting orders to Alaska: We were able to live in Alaska with both of my brothers, making wonderful memories before we lost Tim.

My Last Hug from Tim: When Tim and I hugged just before he left, I felt that it was a special kind of hug. It lasted longer and carried a deeper feeling of love with it. I know I felt it at the time, but didn’t equate it with anything bad about to happen. It is etched deeply in my mind and has always stayed with me. It was a different kind of hug and now I understand why it felt that way.

First Dream: The dream where I felt his hug gave me comfort. Even though I originally interpreted it to tell me he was alive, later, after we’d found his plane, I reinterpreted it as a final “see you later”, his last goodbye hug. I feel very privileged to have had this experience. It was very real to me, and not merely a dream.

My son’s prediction: Even though it may seem strange that my son told Tim he was going to crash his plane, it may have been a message for our family from the realm of angels. Little children seem to be able to cross over that veil that clouds adults’ perception. Perhaps it was to let Tim know that his wish to be among the stars was about to be granted. It may have been a gift that we were unwilling to recognize.

My son, as an adult, doesn’t any of his actions from that time.

Being found at all: It is our good fortune to know where Tim’s plane went down. So many people throughout Alaska and the world have lost loved ones. Many will never get a

final answer. We are a very fortunate family to have obtained most of the answers to the questions we asked.

The week Tim and his plane was found: The week in August had been orchestrated and timed just right for us.

We just happened to go on vacation that particular week.

We just happened to stop in Anchorage.

Our friend just happened to feel strongly that she needed to find us after I talked with her son.

We just happened to have our friend talk us into staying over night at their house.

I just happened to call my father at the right time when the Security Police Officer came knocking at my door to tell me my brother had been found.

The hikers just happened to lose their way and follow the ravine to where Tim’s plane was.

And it just happened that the only thing not to burn was his wing cover with his plane number on it.

How would anyone explain all of these coincidences?

Wing Cover with Plane identification: The wing cover was preserved to identify Tim’s plane to the investigators. Had this burned, it might have been a long time before we knew it was Tim’s plane. For me, this was a sign that some things happen to help us on our journey. The odds of this piece being saved when nothing else regarding the plane was readable are staggering.

Being able to go to crash site: We were fortunate to have the State Troopers fly us to Tim’s crash site to view where it had all happened.

The peace at his crash site – It’s just a crashed plane: It was a blessing to feel Tim with me at his crash site. His presence filled me with peace that everything was all right and gave me reassurance that he was fine … and in time, I would be also.

Birchwood CAP letting us leave plane there: There were many people from Alaska that helped us through our ordeal, but special thanks should go to the CAP, who let us camp there and thoughtfully allowed us to store the remains of Tim’s airplane at Birchwood Airport.

Stabilizer being found:

Thank goodness the lost tail piece was found. We were able to inspect it and know where it ultimately ended up. This didn’t answer all of our questions, but gave us more information.

University to examine plane and Stabilizer: The knowledgeable people working at the University of Anchorage examining Tim’s plane and engine remains for us gave additional information that offered clues as to what may have happened to cause Tim’s crash.

Father’s Journal: Father’s journal of his days during the summer search for Tim helped me tremendously in understanding and recalling details. It also left me some of his intimate thoughts in a tangible form. Father never kept journals other than little notebooks with lists of the things he needed to do daily and phone numbers and addresses. This makes the journal extra special, a treasure for me to have found.

Tim’s guidance from the other realm: I have always felt a close connection to Tim since his death. Many times I have felt that he has guided me to find answers to my questions about this life, and what I should be doing. It seems that he’s never too far away.

Finding Tim’s Journals – the gift of himself: The fact that Tim ever felt compelled to write in a journal is a marvelous thing. How lucky am I to have found him in his words. This may be the best miracle, because without his words, this story would be just ordinary. Because of Tim’s journal, I’ve been able to collaborate with him in telling our story. I can’t express the deep feeling that swells in my heart as I realize that Tim has been beside me the entire time. I have been able to work with an angel, who channeled through

me for a greater purpose. It’s hard to find the words to express this feeling of knowing I am part of something that could benefit other people in the world.

Dream Clues Dreams are interesting things. Sometimes they seem to be trying to tell us something and other times they just seem chaotic and crazy. Many of us had dreams while Tim was missing, and we wondered if they were actually Tim trying to help us find him. Our friend Angelica, from the Eielson CAP, recorded them for us to consider as possible clues. Here is a copy of how she recorded them.

Dream Clues

Cindy:

1. 2nd Week of October: During Search. Approximately 10/19/1992 I was laying in my living room, probably on the floor. Probably watching TV. My older brother was standing at the top of my stairs… where my living room is too… Tim walked in the front door and up the stairs into the living room. He walked over to me …I was still laying there. I looked at him. He knelt down onto his knees. We just hugged. I noted when he walked in that he was wearing his Carhartt suit. His face wasn’t shaven. He just looked real tired, haggard. That’s when I woke up, when we were hugging. It seemed very, very real.

When I woke up I got the impression that he was coming back here and that I would be taking care of him, as if to recuperate.

2. Early November: After the search. More like a regular dream, a little crazy.

I had walked downstairs from my upstairs bedroom into my living room. I saw him laying there on a stretcher. I thought he was dead at first. And then I can’t if I started talking. He was going to take me out to where his plane was. We walked out of the house, we walked down a hall then turned and went down another hall and then like out a back door.

Then it seemed like we were at the end of the North Pole Airport. And he said his plane was just down from there. He said it was out past the end of the airport or something like that. It was summertime. There was all this real tall grass. And there was a helicopter out in the tall grass. We walked past it. But I must have woken up there because we never actually got to where his plane was.

3. End of December, maybe third week. This one started when I heard the kids in the living room. There was a big box full of Christmas present. I asked them (the kids) who the present were from. They told me it was from Tim. Then I said … “Is he here?” They said “yeah”, and so I went into the kitchen area. He was in there. I went over and gave him a hug.

I think that is when I asked him what had happened. At the same time… I don’t if this was before during or after, I kept asking him … there were other people there… if it was real or a dream. I could feel the people so I decided it was real. So then he was telling me what had happened. He said he tried to set it down… and it broke up or cracked up. Something like that. He said he was going north. I in the dream when he was telling me that I had a thought about what the terrain was like… and it was a big flat open snowy area. It was like I seeing little bushes sticking out. And little trees. I

seeing mountains off to the side. I think the mountains were off to the left side.

After he told me that… I don’t going there… but we were like in the living room area and he was sitting on the couch. There was a man sitting next to him… I don’t know who. The man had dark hair. Maybe grey clothes or light blue. There were two other men standing to the right of the couch against the wall. I didn’t know any of these others. There might have been a boy, too. He was talking about his experience of being out in the cold for that amount of time, how hard it was. He started to cry … when he told of how hard it was. I was standing in front of him, listening to him. I think I woke up then.

The other people … it was like if he did come back there would be other people around … not reporters … but it would be a big deal. There would be people around.

4. Impressions I had an idea in my mind about a big flat area when going down to Anchorage … maybe Cantwell or below … way East of the highway.

5. After Cindy had talked about these dreams … she asked for another dream before going to sleep. This was January 4 or 5. She ed talking to me about this and of waking up realizing that it had worked.

6. Cindy reports that her young son keeps talking about having talked with “Uncle Tim” saying that he expects him home soon … that he talked with him recently … that he knows he crashed his plane. The boy commented during the search with no comments from the parent that Uncle Tim had crashed his plane.

Before Tim Young left on his flight south the boy kept telling him that he was going to crash his plane … even though the boy loves planes and loves to fly.

Cindy’s impression is that he boy knew ahead of time that the event would occur. She also feels her young son is in direct communication with the missing brother. She feels quite frustrated that she can’t seem to ask the right question to get the boy to tell her. That would be the problem with a young child.

Tommy Fackrell: (Cindy’s Husband) Last Week in January He dreamed that he and Tim were flying. They were headed out a ways from Fairbanks. They were headed out south on a long trip somewhere. He was sitting in the back of the plane. Tim was flying it from up front. They were just flying along and then the engine started to have problems. Then it just quit (as if fuel starvation). Tommy asked Tim what was wrong. He said something about they were going to have to go down. He set the plane into the proper glide configuration then went into a downward spiral. They only got around the spiral once and then they landed. By the time they stopped the snow was up to the bottom of the door and to the top of the cowling but it didn’t flip. They were landed into a slight slope. There was a steep mountain off to one side, trees off the other side. They got out of the plane and walked around the front of the airplane. Then he woke up.

Brother’s Dreams: Tom Young

1. After Cindy’s first dream. Right after search had ended. Cindy re her father calling her and telling her Tom had a dream. Cindy knew she’d had one too so she called Tom and told hem her dream … then he told her his. No on the subject previous to the dream. In Tom’s dream … he told me Tim just showed up there at the house. But when he told my Dad, Tom said his wife had gone out and brought him in … He asked

him where he’d been. Tim told him that he’d been over there where the three bars come together… and he made three slashing motions. His hand was at his waist lifting his hand like three karate chops in the air … horizontal. One two three. He said he got the impression that it was either three rivers or three river bars. He wasn’t sure where or anything … it was just like a clue.

He told Cindy later that he had and impression that he area was over on the west side of the inlet … maybe over by Nikolai Creek, near the east and west headlands.

2. Right about the end of December: He said it something to do with the map. Tim had come back and they were like at a mechanic shop. A place where they fix airplane engines or something. There was a bunch of guys there and Tim was telling them where he’d been. He was saying something about a canyon. He talked about flying in this canyon that went real steep. It was really steep … it made you sick when you flew it. Then he looked at Tim and Tim had vomit all over his face. Then he said they were looking at a map. And they were looking at this canyon. Tom said after he woke up that he didn’t know which map … but he felt sure if he saw it again on a map that he would recognize it.

3. First week of January: Tom said he’d had another dream … he told me on Jan. 8 that he’d had another dream

He told me that he and like three other guys, like three or four were all flying in their airplanes. They were all going to come back from wherever it was they were going. Then one of them turned up missing. So Tom was trying to go out searching for him … but he never actually got to go. Somebody else found him. And Tom thought it was at the base of the Kahiltna Glacier … somewhere about

there.

Nothing about the person in the plane, who it was. Nothing more specific.

Clarence Young: Father

1. Probable date: November sometime. After search had ended. He reports himself as a man who never dreams. He was in bed when this happened but claims he was not asleep. This event kind of opened up in front of him. He said it was like foggy around so he didn’t see the terrain. He saw Tim like running out of a cavern or snow cave or something. He was looking up waving his arms like he was signaling an airplane. Like he was being found. He said it was one of those very real, very vivid dreams.

2. Next: The next event occurred during broad daylight while Mr. Young was awake. In early Feb. Mr. Young told Cindy he was walking around his house doing some chores. With no warning a kind of vision opened up in which he saw Tim standing somewhere. He was looking down at Tim, who was waving … as one who was waving at a plane that had found him. He saw something red off to his right off behind him but his attention was focused on Tim so he doesn’t know where he was. He said it was like he had left his normal surroundings and was THERE … in some place where he was seeing Tim waving up at him, as if he was in a plane. I took clues that I thought directly pointed to what happened to Tim, and might have indicated his location. Listed are things that are fact. The dreams were too vague to find him while searching, but I realized they all fit, once we knew the circumstances of his accident.

Dream Clues put together

Cindy

1. His goodbye hug

2. Him taking me to his crash site At the end of an airport (Birchwood?)

It was summertime

Tall grass

Helicopter in grass – we walked past it

(State Troopers’ Helicopter taking us to crash site)

3. He tried to set it down and it broke or cracked up Little bushes and little trees in the snow

Mountains off to the side

(The ravine where he crashed)

Husband Tom

1. Headed south from Fairbanks Lost engine

They were going to have to go down

One spiral and landed in deep snow

Steep mountain off to side

Trees on other

(The area where he crashed)

Brother Tom

1. Saying something about a canyon

Flying in this canyon that was real steep and that it made you sick when you flew it.

Tim with vomit on face

Looked at map with canyon on it.

2. Guys flying together, one went missing. Tom was going to search for him, but he was found before he could.

He was found by someone else.

Peace of mind. Ah what a lovely thought.

Tim’s Journal February 19, 1983

Conclusion

When I put all these occurrences and coincidences that have happened during and since Tim’s accident together, they prove to me that good things can happen, even in the wake of tragedies. If you look for the light, even if it’s just a small

sliver, you’ll find it. Nothing happens “just because it can”. There’s always a reason, always something to learn. I learned a great deal from this experience and I continue learning to this day.

The journey down my river eventually found calm waters, yet, I drift along without the earthly presence of many loved ones. But just like the buoy swing in my brother’s house, I am buoyed up by their love and the legacy they left me here and on into the beyond… Because of them, and the miracles we’ve been blessed with, I am fulfilling my destiny.

When you are weak, behold her, for she is your savior. For there will be times when life will be rough. There will be times When you have no hope. And there will surely Be times when things you Cannot fight will tug at your soul, beckoning you…

Then you will seek her, Behold her, and you will have hope. You will see the thing in life that all is preserved for, - what you ultimately live for. You will see love, life, and joy. Then you will be saved.

And so out of the darkness of your life will come What is to you the greatest of all things: The gift of love, The promise of hope.

Tim’s Journal March 16, 1982

Just as an airplane glides through the air and es thru any clouds that come before it, so must we soar through life. Just as a plane cuts through a cloud, so can we cut through our misfortunes and look for the proverbial silver lining. This never takes the pain away but makes it bearable. And perhaps, just perhaps, we need to go through these experiences to help someone else go through theirs.

Chapter 17

GRAVITY IS ALL THAT BINDS ME

Gravity

I think about some things sometimes but I can’t explain them. I mean things that are part of every day life. Things that set me apart from most of the world. Mostly flying. I can’t say why but I’m so terribly attracted to it. Now most fly people say it’s because they just can’t quite believe it or it’s so powerful and separate or they feel like they’re living instead of putting little balls on grass. But not me. None of these things fit me. I don’t feel so super-duper or godly. I don’t wonder at how it works, I just say “so o.k. It flies – so what’s such a big deal about that?” I’ve even tried to feel that way but I don’t. No matter what I do, all I can do is take it for granted. So why do I like airplanes? – beats me. I can’t understand why. I seem pulled to them like a magnet. But I don’t know why.

Tim’s Journal February 25, 1979

Gravity Defined:

The attraction due to gravitation the earth or another celestial body exerts on an object on or near its surface.

the quality of being heavy

the heaviness of something

On this earth, what goes up must come down.

After I received the final accident report, the word gravity came to me. Having waited months and years, and going through so many problems to get this report, I was disappointed to read the NTSB’s conclusion. It ultimately stated, in only a few sentences, that Tim’s plane collided with the terrain. They were basically saying that gravity killed him. I was unimpressed, wasn’t this rather obvious? Because they were not in the report, it seemed that many of the facts we uncovered were dismissed, leaving me to wonder why. I determined right then that when I wrote the story, the title would have gravity in it.

I’m sure there are many great NTSB investigators out there, doing great jobs. I’m unsure what happened in our case, why they came across as uncaring. Perhaps one day I will find the answer.

Hello. How did I survive tomorrow? From here it seems there’s no love at all for meeee. It seems that the tunnel is so long it will take a lifetime to get thru. There’s no light at the end either. Where am I going? Where have I gone so far? These questions I can’t seem to answer. I’ve worked so hard for some of the things I have and most people just shrug them off as junk and I know they aren’t, yet people don’t even care – so much time and pain have gone into them, so

much of my life and love – just to be ignored. The world seems totally indignant to what I considered so terribly important. I can’t share any of it with anyone – nobody cares… WHY NOT?

Tim’s Journal December 25, 1978

If I am being harsh on the NTSB and the investigating that was done, I am only stating what we encountered. I do try, however, to give everybody the benefit of the doubt, so I will do some of that here. Perhaps the investigator(s) was/were having a bad day, a bad week, month, year, whatever, who knows. Maybe there was something there I don’t know about. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I suppose I may never know. For whatever reason, the way things happened must have been for a reason larger than I can understand right now. Sometimes we just can’t see the big picture until much later.

Whenever someone boards a plane, as a pilot or enger, they run the risk that gravity may very well intervene. Unfortunately, too many people have lost their lives to this thing called gravity.

Wow! Look at what I have written here in the last few days – vortices of emotion – we are truly in the turbulent boundary layer, yes?

But the boundary of what? Am I coming up from the surface to encounter this briefly before the clear flow, or am I coming down only to hit the surface and be swept away?

Stupid analogy, right? Time to get real.

Tim’s Journal October 10, 1983

As I came to the conclusion of my writing, I realized how many meanings the word gravity can take on. The gravity of this story, the gravity of my feelings, the gravity of how it could affect my life and the lives of others, and just plain old gravity pulling us back to earth, are a few of the analogies. “Gravity’s Embrace” has become the perfect title.

So gravity it is. Watch out for it because it can be very dangerous! It can even steal someone you love!

Chapter 18

LIVING WITH GOODBYES

Goodbye

Ya know, I suddenly realized something – you never feel the pain until it’s gone. You never really understand how much something has hurt you until it’s gone and you have to think about it. When love goes away to the past and you are left alone in a world of strangers, then you hurt. Then the pain comes to crumble you down to the fragile fragments of what you really are – all alone. But the pain never comes when it hurts, when the damage is done. When you say goodbye it is the saddest moment of all – yet it never hurts. It hurts later when all is over.

Broken pasts may mend to To stronger tomorrows But the wounds must be Forgotten to heal Look forward to what you have Dream for what you may

Tim’s Journal March 27, 1979

A Compilation of Memories and Thoughts about Goodbyes

Over the years, thoughts and feelings emerge, and sometimes I journal them. I want to show how they follow me around, all part of living with pain and healing. I didn’t feel this way every day, all the time, but there were times when things would spark the memories. In between those times, I was busy living my life, raising my children, doing the things I loved, and learning the joy of life.

. . . .

Ten months is a long time when you are waiting for someone to return. Yet it’s a short amount of time, compared to the course of a lifetime. Now, twenty years later, I see that ten months was a large droplet falling into the bucket of my life. Living through that experience was a big splash and its fallout spray is continuously sprinkling down on me. I wear the badge of living through it in my heart and soul. Ten months of wondering and Tim’s death forever changed who I am, and my life’s course.

. . . .

It’s like waves washing over my soul, moments of sorrow and moments of joy. Crying the river of sadness, then being able to smile about the fun times shared. It all must be experienced for some reason. This is life…

. . . .

On grey cloudy days my memory takes me back to those sad days of wondering where my brother was. My heart immediately becomes sad and aches all over again. If you add rain, like tears from heaven that seem to be feeling sad with me, I feel even more sadness. Losing a loved one, a sibling is so hard. Even if you know that this is the way it is supposed to be, their being gone and you being here, it still hurts and you wonder what life would be like right now if they were alive. Certain music brings all the feelings flooding back and it makes me feel as if I were in that time of angst again. No words can explain how my heart actually feels, the pain, the sadness, and the ache. I wish it had never happened and yet I know I would not be the person I am today had I not gone through this ordeal. But my mind and heart scream out to not have gone through it all. I would gladly have lived my life not having had this experience. I guess it doesn’t matter how many years go by, the ache is always in me and songs, weather, pictures, or words, can bring all those emotions flooding back to the surface in a split second.

Destiny leads us The past frees us The present heeds us The future reads us And still we go on

Tim’s Journal March 31, 1979

The quiet and cold of winter bring many feelings. When I hear certain music and see the mountains covered with the glistening white snow, it takes me back to those days in Alaska that were, to say the least, bittersweet. The feelings are of sorrow, wondering, wishing, sadness, determination, and emptiness. I cannot

write of these things without tears in my eyes. The feeling of love for my brother and the ten months of stress and emotions all come surfacing up. Most of the time it is just a story from my life I tell other people, but when I sit to write, all of the emotions get dredged up. I again how I felt during that time. I realize those feelings are still there, locked away.

Don’t look back I don’t want to say goodbye Goodbye? Why? Why must we all say goodbye? And why am I saying goodbye to you? Why did I ever care? What great plan drove me to you there? Why did God lead me to you? – you to me? What are we learning in a universe you claim to be so well designed? Why? Why? Why? Why do I love you?

Tim’s Journal January 15, 1986

Just as the bears hibernate in the winter, sleeping and dreaming their time away until spring, I had to wait for my answers. I wish I could have just slept those 10 months away, waking to find it all a dream. I used to wish the same thing after my mother died. As a child, I would go to sleep at night believing that I would awake the next morning finding it to be just an awful dream. Sometimes life can seem like a dream and you wonder if you will awaken one day and find yourself

saying “what a crazy dream”! But, each day ticks away and you find yourself trying to complete it as best you can. Living through tragedy sometimes seems surreal, as if you are floating along, going through the motions, wondering when it will all end. An ending never really comes, yet time helps fade some of the misery. The realization comes that all these things that happened to you were learning experiences, no matter how painful they were at the time.

Here I am, talking more about “tomorrow” then today. What good is “tomorrow” without today? What good is “tomorrow” at all? Now is the importance. That is all there is – NOW. A good lesson to be learned from the wasted days – now they aren’t wasted!

Tim’s Journal February 10, 1986

Someone once remarked that I carry a sadness with me. I was unhappy to hear this, but spent some time pondering this statement. Is my heartache that transparent? I wondered if I should try to get rid of this sadness, erase it from my life, and if I did, would it help? The more I examined this idea, the more I realized that I would not be me if I deleted all the sadness. What I carry in my heart makes me a comionate person. I have empathy, and can feel the hurt that others who have lost feel. So, no, I will not try to erase my sadness because it keeps love for my fellow human beings in my heart, it reminds me daily that even though sadness resides in me, it keeps me understanding and humble. Memories should keep us on the right track for today. They aren’t meant to wallow around in, making daily life miserable, but to inspire and stay in our minds to build a new and better life upon.

He lights a candle instead of complaining about the dark.

Tim’s Journal June 12, 1986

After finding Tim, Father went back to his life in California. The experience had taken a huge physical and mental toll on him. Though he seemed extremely lost, he did what he could to carry on. Reading through his journal, it was evident that his everyday activities and tasks were used to bury his emotions. His heart was extremely heavy from having lost his daughter, wife, and youngest son. His life, like mine, seemed to be filled with too many goodbyes.

In 1999, six years after Tim was found, Father sold his house in Paso Robles. The remainder of his life was spent living and traveling in his GMC motor home, with some of that time at our home. On April 23, 2005 he ed away in Homer, Alaska, having been there for just under a year, in an assisted living facility. Incidentally, that is the same date that my sister Kathy died in 1957, and my first granddaughter was born in 2006. I pondered the coincidence of this date and an answer finally came. Rather than becoming a grieving date for me, it has become a day of celebration, a celebration of my grand-daughters birth. What a beautiful present of coincidence to be given.

Even though Father was a difficult person to be with while he was alive, I still love him. I think of him as an enlightened entity, dwelling in the next realm, and have forgiven him for any wrong doings. There are times I wish I could call and tell him about something he would be proud of me for. I’m still looking for that direct phone line to heaven.

So, goodbye to my father too. May he be happy surrounded by all that have ed on into the billowy heavens.

Life is about finding a balance between sorrow and joy. We can be crying one moment and laughing the next and that’s fine. Perhaps that is just the way it is supposed to be.

A flash of light in the darkness beyond and I am there again – it is a Saturday afternoon and I am working on my car in the garage. The radio plays, filling the air with the worlds news and I am happy. The work is good – doing what I want to do and doing it well. Accomplishing much. There’s my dune buggy sitting there covered with Corvair parts awaiting the time when it too will live again. Across the driveway sits the motorhome, ah the motorhome – it is a ticket to all America – it sits there calling me always. Beckoning to me to come along – to let it show me something new in the world – in myself. And too I am proud of it. The machine makes me happy when it is rolling – something that I think stretches back to the first time men traveled on wheels – to be moving, seeing, progressing – it is the quest. But oh so much more is there. My pickup sits there at the sidewalk – awaiting me so faithfully and never letting me down. This truck serves me well.

But this is my world, it is my life. And out there in the sun, working is oh so much fun. With the doors open and the lawns mowed, it is heaven to me now. And ah, yes, Nessa is there, talking to me, giving me what I want so much – love. And I love that. Nessa makes the whole thing so much fun – she was always there – just there, just there, just that is what I miss the most. Her just being there.

The car is almost done now. The truck is gone – away to Colorado. The motorhome is alone in some corner of Santa Barbara wanting a home. Nessa is there – at home, in her world. But I am not. I am alone. The times gone. The new mowed grass, the open garage doors, the dune buggy once again hidden away – weekends finished and buried in my past forever. The whole damn thing has past me – chemistry labs in the afternoon, coming home after work at night, learning German with Nessa, fixing bicycles in the spring sunshine, studying math in that room, eating lunches in that kitchen, living in that house, existing on that place – it is gone.

But this word seems to be the theme of my life. Gone, finished, done. All I seems this way – the goodbyes persist to haunt me for they are what I

fear the most – those permanent goodbyes. And all the things that existed on that spot – the times, the memories, the people –are all goodbye – and yes, I must finally concede to the truth that these goodbyes are permanent. They have seen their time and are now done – forever. The friendship I grew to there will quickly vanish into now and be replaced by others. I must finally it that – no matter how much I want to know her, and that forever – yes her – I must say goodbye to that and her – she is so busy growing up and living. It would be wrong for a lonesome loser to bother her again. I will see her again, yes but it will only be the fatal last glimpses of love by the fool who lives forever in the past. I can never be part of her life again – and I know it.

I must say goodbye. What was my home for 3 years and my life is now done. What was the major interest in my life – Nessa – is now growing away in her life which I fear will never cross mine again. My family is scattered - including me – and far away. Only the Corvair follows me now. I am lonely.

And mostly I am sad. For I cannot accept that this was only gained – I see it as being lost, lost to the past. The unreachable depth of what is gone. I am sad.

For I am dying. This is so familiar.

Tim’s Journal October 12, 1981

I wonder why saying goodbye has to hurt so much? Why, as I tell this story again, I spend most of the time with tears in my eyes? It’s true, emotion is something we all experience, but just where is the balance point? How much is too much, and how much is just the right amount? My emotions run deep and Tim’s ran deeper still, and there are others who have experienced worse. We all

have different trials in life. To all who have suffered, it is my wish to have them know there is life within and past a tragedy. I understand both sides. You live with the hurt inside you, it never goes away, but you live on and find meaning through your experiences. Without them you cannot fulfill your destiny. There is tremendous power in your experiences that you must come to understand. Strive to find this power, and use it.

A few years ago while daydreaming I came up with this idea of an ultimately receding view of a specific point. It has never gone away since.

Picture, if you can, looking at something important in your life and the camera your looking thru slowly zooms out and out until it has become an aerial shot – but don’t stop there – just keep zooming out – ever increasing the perspective until that something’s significance has become relevant in perspective with everything else (I mean everything – universe, etc.). It would be to finally enjoy the entire perspective of life – to understand at last.

I saw the last M.A.S.H. last night – power went out Monday so they played it today (quite a winter this year!). Sat in Rowan’s room with Camilla, Jase, Tori, Emilie, Rowan, and Jill and watched it end – forever. I find myself sitting there waiting for some explanation to what has past there – some view to understand its purpose. Of course none came – such is life. It’s easy to become sentimental over such an occasion – it is sad to say goodbye to those characters even though they really did become rather dumb after 11 years of repetition. Still it is only a fantasy with no bearing on anything real. Of all the tragedies in real life we walk by every day and never give a second thought, why care for something so absurd as a T.V. show? The answer is no, we shall not – goodbye, and alas, good riddance.

But in the last shot when Hawkeye was leaving in that helicopter we all got to zoom up and out to an aerial shot to see it as a whole one last time. It said goodbye – and so did we.

Still I was left crying for that shot to keep un-zooming. To give me just a little more. If just once I could see it that way…

But prayers are never answered and people are never saved – it just goes on forever – we just keep saying goodbye.

Nobody was crying either Bye

Tim’s Journal March 2, 1983

A friend once said to me, “As everything changes, everything stays the same”. This applies to the seasons. Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, every year it’s the same, yet different. Some years, the cold lasts longer. Some years, the warmth lasts longer. Some years, the leaves fall early and some years, they fall late. Sometimes we have snow on Christmas, and sometimes we don’t. Life is the same way, we go through seasons, as the earth does. I’ve realized that the seasons are there for us to learn this from. They teach us that although we are continually changing, we have to stay true to ourselves as we change. In other words, we must retain who we are while changing to make ourselves better.

This applies to Tim’s story, and my life throughout the experience. My gift within the journey was to learn who I truly am, and how to stay true to myself after living through that and all of life’s other lessons. Who I truly am is one who looks for the joy in life, no matter what the circumstances. There is power in being able to do that balance, that dance, that transcendence, through all the learning experiences. Like the seasons, we continue to change each year, but also

stay the same. We can honor ourselves as we change into better, more refined people. Compiling data and facts, sorting my thoughts and memories, and reflecting on Tim’s story has been a healing journey. I found my truer self. The really interesting thing is that this is not at all what I had originally set out to do. I wanted to tell the story to preserve it. I never imagined it would bring so much to my life. This is much more than a story. It has become a healing, a healing through story telling.

Have you ever noticed that some of the happiest people in the world are the ones who look at everything as a big joke? The greater the catastrophe or pain or hunger – the funnier it is. When everybody else is crying in their beer cause the world is about to collapse, they’re just running around havin a good time.

Do you realize that life as a whole is like catch 22 – the greater you hate it and the more you must escape from it – the more it surrounds you and the worse it is. Yet if you love it, it can only get better. And ya know – the only way to enjoy life is to see it as one big, enormous, crack-up joke. Wars and lives, days, histories, countries, are just a big ridiculous game for those who like to play games.

And the crazier you are, the better the world is to you – cause if you get serious it’ll kill you quick as lightening.

Sometimes it is the most difficult thing in the world to just it I’m free in this world. It’s almost too difficult to think that. Oh my, I could just go trippen’ out that door right now and the whole world is mine to play in. Then my mind turns loose and zippo – I’m overdosed on a limitless imagination and a limited lifetime. Gosh I could start walking and forget everything I’ve ever known – ever. And I see myself from out there and wonder how I stay here glued to this place. How I’m so unstable and how much of the world I’m missing.

It scares me terribly to think I could up and enter all the world. Just dive off this little hermit’s nest and disappear into all there is out there. It scares me, but I don’t know why.

Yet for me to see this is the hardest thing of all for me. I feel I’m bound here for some reason and I know I’m not.

I’m free

Tim’s Journal May 8, 1979

Our family history created our sadness and aversion to goodbyes. Having to say it to our mother much too soon caused us to detest them. It left an unhealed hole in our hearts and a distaste for goodbyes.

We don’t have tomorrow, but we have yesterday. – singin it again. Oh well.

Tim’s Journal May 16, 1983

It’s twenty years later, and here I am saying goodbye again to family . It is a wonderful feeling, the anticipation of company arriving, but bittersweet to watch them depart. I feel the sting of saying goodbye again. I stand in my front yard, waving, as my sister-in-law drives off with two of my grandchildren. The fun and excitement of the Thanksgiving holiday is over and it is time to go home. I walk back into my empty house and sit on the couch, feeling the sadness of saying goodbye. As I sit reflecting on these distasteful emotions, feeling that

intense empty, lonely feeling, I once again understand why Tim had such a hard time saying goodbye. These are feelings I wish I never had to experience and could leave out of my life.

I never concede to the gentle understandings of when it is time to say goodbye. As always, disaster follows. There is a time to leave. One must let that fact be. Goodbye is a necessity.

But, goodbye’s hurt me more than anything else I know.

Tim’s Journal April 17, 1984

Ultimately, you can’t enjoy the welcome without the departure. I have come to believe this life is all about opposites. We have to find the joy in all things. Even goodbyes can bring a small amount of joy. Joy that you have your peace back, time to write in your journal, and time to reflect on your feelings with no distractions.

The deep inner most soul – delve into it, see it, know it. I am searching for my own now. Wondering what it is that I am – why I am what I am.

Tim’s Journal June 1983

While watching a movie with my husband about death and dying, I realized that in our society, we almost always have a funeral of some kind for the deceased. In Tim’s case we never had a formal gathering. This written story will serve as his

funeral, honoring his life through these pages with his words and mine. Since a funeral should be a celebration of the life lived, this a unique and fitting way to do that. Tim’s life may have been short and filled with sorrow, but his story could possibly touch many he never knew in a positive way.

Love gone

He’s gone… flashing over your heads, past your eyes, above your mountains, across your lands, thru your lives.

He’s gone now, away to the future into other worlds – to touch other lives. To spread his hope and knowledge.

He touched us – touched us that can still feel and those that can still try. He touched our thoughts. Changed us all, he even changed the children’s, children’s of us. Millions of years from now – after we have all been forgotten into the dust of the earth they walk. Yes, they will even think of him then. His thoughts and truths will be part of theirs. He has set our future.

And there, in those few seconds of brilliant light, those wonderful few moments in the eternity that shall scale this all. In that time – showed us all. He never stopped to see us for we are already part of him. He never talked or even looked – he just existed there in that moment. For us to see, to believe, to know. He showed us Love.

Yet his job is not done. He can never stop here, for other worlds forever need tending, forever need hope. He must help them always. He has a big job. Do not mistake him though- he is not justice, he is only love and hope.

We ourselves are justice…

Yes he has come, and he will come again..

He does not control our lives, yet he inevitably controls us. Forever, always he shall even forever affect the future we leave.

He is gone. He leaves us with only hope and love…for he is Love, bright beautiful, true – Love.

For that some call Him God.

Tim’s Journal February 25, 1979

As the seasons of my life change, another tragedy has occurred. I have had to say goodbye again. My best friend, my soul sister, the sister of my heart, my spiritual sister, my guide and my example, was taken from this earth in a bicycle accident on March 9, 2012. She, like my brother was doing something she dearly loved to do when she left this earthly realm. Her departure has left another gaping wound in my heart, another ache to bear for the rest of my years. I am tired of losing my loved ones to death, but will continue to carry on with my work here. I will periodically cry the tears of sadness, for the pain never really goes away, however, I will live to honor those who have ed with my actions of today.

Woke up this morning with a tear in my eye Think I finally said goodbye Saw her walk away last Night Think I finally did what’s right Sent her home where she belongs Cut loose the ties that were so Strong I know my heart will never Mend Think this is, for me, the end To turn her loose was only Fair Nothing there For me you know it’s only Pain I know that I can’t love Again So wipe the tear from my

Eye Think I finally said goodbye

Tim’s Journal May 18, 1982

This poem came to me the day after my dearest friend died.

Dedicated to Lona Hymus-Smith

The Bicycle Angel The road it stretches out far, Black and warm Inviting me to ride it As far as my legs will let me push The pedals. The winds blows through My hair. I fly along As I ride. The euphoria I feel Brings the rush

Of pure happiness. The sun is setting And I glory In the sight it gives me. I am lifted up Off the road And onto a higher plane. It is effortless now To sail along As fast and as far As I want. I leave all my worries And cares behind. I am golden In the sunset Light as a feather, Riding with wings Of an Angel. I have become Pure Joy. my smile,

My laughter, My love. The road it stretches out far And I will be riding Right beside you Always. Cynthia Young Fackrell 3/10/2012 My friend, Lona, lived beside a river. Like this river, the currents of life carry me along in and out of joy and pain. I continue to ride these currents, paddling my way to the sea…

Goodbye… another dear friend,

Till we meet again….

Seeking Serenity Swirled in the mighty vortices of emotion once again. It seems death is there At every corner I turn. I try to live within it But my understanding

Wanes thin. The tears flow from my eyes Like the rain falls from the clouds. I soar through my life touching loved ones Hoping they will stay close to me. But the kiss of death touches and And pulls some away. I look at the ethereal And wonder if I can pear into it. Small glimpses are shared with me But never enough to satisfy My hunger for the wholeness I seek. What is that realm That feels so far and yet so close? Where are the souls That I once knew? And why can’t they Divulge their secret to me? What must I do To touch the Angels wing and Whisper into the formless unknown?

I am seeking the comfort of Benevolent solace. I am pursuing the serenity To soothe the phantom That plagues my heart. Where is the essence of divine That I need so badly? I will aspire To live in the quiet unknown So I may find my answers, Seemingly hidden amongst the clouds. Cynthia Young Fackrell June 8, 2012 I’ve been living these goodbyes for many years now. The farther I get into this story, the more I understand my place in it. When I read my brother’s words, I think how insightful he was, and some jealousy seeps in, making me wish I could be as wise. I feel his presence reassuring me that I am just as valuable as he, my part just as insightful and special as his. It’s comforting to know that I am on the right track, doing what I am supposed to be doing. These words are very, very important. I feel very privileged to be the channel through which Tim’s story is told. This makes me feel unique and special, a divine presence among all the other divine entities residing within the universe.

To know it, feel it, be it. The machine is the God – it is the goal. To be on it, in it, with it. Feel the soul – understand.

Tim’s Journal 1984

Goodbyes dot our lives everywhere and we have to find a way to live with them and not let them disturb our true happiness in life. We must strive to understand what they are for and how to use them. We need to understand the power they hold and use it wisely.

Perhaps Goodbyes just lead to new Hello’s?

Chapter 19

THE GREATEST GIFT

Love volunteered is far more valuable than love asked for…

Tim’s Journal September 1982

Why did I feel compelled to pick up this pencil and write? Maybe because this paper is the only truly understanding, truly listening thing I have. It never talks back or tries to show me it is better or smarter than me. It just is. It lets me express myself with no judgment, no advice, just silence and patience. It doesn’t tell me how I should live. It doesn’t start telling me things I should do that will make me better. It’s just here, white with blue lines, quietly keeping me on track and in a straight line. Keeps my words ordered and easy to decipher.

Cynthia’s Journal

It’s quiet now – not a sound but my ears buzzing from the radio in my truck and what seems to be a deafening roar from pencil meeting paper.

Tim’s Journal March 3, 1986

In 2005, after my father’s death, I found Tim’s journal packed away in a storage unit with all of my father’s earthly possessions. If Father knew it existed, he never let me know about it. Once I found it, I couldn’t stop reading until I had read every page.

Look below you at all that You see. Life is abounding and All is at peace. You see all around you your Life and your home. The future’s your present Go to freely roam.

Tim’s Journal December 1, 1976

If I could change the sands of time I would bring my brother back. Unfortunately, we can’t rewind time. Since this can’t be, I have his words. I sat for hours, reading them numerous times, being transported back to those years, and started feeling as though I was re-living that time. It was as if I had fallen into the past, a surreal feeling, like Tim was still alive. I had to pull myself out of reading, into the present, and realize that he was no longer alive.

Bringing Tim’s inner thoughts to the world is an honor. It’s been wonderful to read his thoughts, finally being able to know what he was thinking during all his quiet times.

Many of the things Tim wrote I consider profound, and I want to share them. I spent many hours going through his journal to find just the right ones to compliment his story.

So Much for Imagination

Ya know I’ve always been disappointed in this world. Everything has never been quite what it was made out to be. The Rockies – for instance – I was always told they were so magnificent and beautiful and wonderful towering above the world for all mankind to see and hold as a memory of Gods powers of justice and truth. And when I go there and I never could quite see it. It’s not all that towering and lush and awe-inspiring and wonderful to me. It’s always been sort of a big disappointment to go there. It’s the same with just about everything I do and everywhere I go. It’s never as good as the book it came out of. Maybe my imagination is just too good for my own good. Airplanes were even this way to me, everyone says – oh it’s like being with God, well it wasn’t like that for me at all. It was just – o.k. so I’m flying and so what!? Where’s all the fireworks and angels and great inspirations, they never came. It’s sort of sad for me cause I’d like to find something I could feel that way about. This all started when I was cutting a piece of Tillamook cheese and I thought gee- this cheese isn’t as good as I have always thought it was. When Tom wrote us about Tillamook, it was like a magical place in my mind. Somewhere where berries of pure milk and honey grow on the roadsides for everyone to have and a place where there is always a rainbow and green lush trees grow endlessly near a pure blue ocean with too much treasure to imagine. And there in this pure paradise called heaven on earth – or Oregon – was a place called Tillamook where they make cheese as pure as gold and so good you couldn’t bare to try it for fear of never stopping. Well, I went there and it wasn’t quit that way. In fact it was just like home, same sky, same cold and all and that makes me sad because I want to find paradise. Even dune buggies are sort of dull. 2 minutes of looking and that’s all there is in it not all that much magic as I thought (some). Though sometimes I question that cause every once in a while I get so excited about it I can’t sit still.

Part of the reason I think I’m disappointed in dune buggies is that the one person I always thought I could share it with is gone. The one person who sort of thought the same way is gone, so what do I say? I feel all alone in a world I can’t share with anyone and I have the greatest gift of all the world and I can’t share it. Sometimes though when I‘m sideways on the top of a big dune and I’m just cutting the ridge with my tires and the sand’s smooth as glass and my buggies runnin’ good, or when the first big slam jerk of a 15 inch native Rainbow hits my homemade fishing pole in a beautiful hole on some cold river in the Rockies, or when I ride down the face of a cliff in the sunset on the beach and almost lose it but don’t, then I think maybe the world isn’t so dull and drab. Maybe this is paradise and maybe I should just stay here all my life and live with this. I feel like this is perfection, just pure gold, perfect and hang there forever, savoring it and never letting go. Still it always seems to end and I must go home and I’m still looking for paradise. For a while I used to think it was love and loving someone, but even that doesn’t seem to hold it any more. So much love goes bad and is just an excuse. Lately I’ve been thinking maybe it’s tasting all of what’s good in this world and putting it all out on the edge just for the sake of putting it all there and breathing it all in for a moment and sharing it with someone who can appreciate what I ‘m thinking and feeling. Then we can both say I’m not alone and it is real and it is good. I think sharing it might be key to happiness. Yes that might be it. Happiness is sharing all the things that are good and even some bad in this world and knowing that you are sharing it. Well, someday I hope I’ll find out. Even now the suns a little brighter and the trees are greener. Why I can even see it now, those purple mountains rising out of that golden sea beckoning to all men on earth to come see God’s greatest treasure. To see the rocky cathedrals that stretch to the sky and beyond and see the crystal clear rivers that stretch out of endless stands of trees so pure green you can’t imagine….. Hopes all I got.

Tim’s Journal June 2, 1978

The reading and re-reading of Tim’s journal brought me to one very, very important realization:

The Greatest Gift is:

The Gift of Ones Self

This ultimately breaks down to Love. When you give yourself to another person, you are letting them know you love them. By his own hand, with pencil on notebook paper, Tim scribed his life. He wrote his feelings and thoughts, most likely thinking no one would ever see his words. It was my good fortune to find his flow of thoughts. He left me himself in those words, on the many pages he wrote. This is the greatest gift, the gift of himself, something I am eternally grateful for. I thank him for this gift of love.

I don’t believe Tim fully understood this gift. He was scared to give himself in love for fear of losing the person he gave his love to. He feared he would have to say goodbye, again, and this held him back in life from loving freely and completely. I have had to live what he feared most, saying goodbye… To him.

In a lonely corner of some old broken down house trailer, they were found. Under piles of dusty old magazines and phone numbers of people long forgotten, there lay the gold of a man no one will ever know otherwise. In life he was considered a failure, he fought so hard and chased his dream, yet only the feelings of the dream are left – the dream and the journey.

He is gone

But he will never die – the heart resides as lead on paper and gold in the

understanding of those who read it. Will it help?

Thanks

Tim’s Journal October 24, 1983

Tim’s writings echo my own sadness. They resonate with my soul and that is why they meld well with my words. We are one in the hurt that losing our mother at a young age created. His journaling has helped me see myself, and with it, created another source of healing.

I’m thankful that Tim took time to journal, leaving me wonderful words to use in his story. I thank him for his time spent wondering about the world and wishing it to be a better place. I have the same thoughts, but I’m not sure I could put them into words as eloquently as he did. Thank you, dear brother, for giving us all things to think about.

I’ve suddenly realized what Christmas is all about. It’s about Love. Love for others. Now I won’t tell you what it’s not about. I won’t tell you about the toys or stores or commercialism. I’ll tell you what it’s about, it’s love. Love enough to give something to someone even if you can’t. To give them what you have so they can understand the love you feel. Just like the wise men 2000 years ago, they saw a life – a life of promise and love shining, there they saw St. Euxpery’s Mozart laying there and realized he could become something, if only he knew love. So they gave their love and promise of life to him. And there Christmas started out of a promise… of peace and love.

Life is funny, all of this trying and grasping to do something. Everyone is trying

to do something that means something. It seems so small, so frail that we all do our little thing and do our part. All our ideas seem small and futile. We work and scratch and suffer out our lives so we can achieve one little victory, to do one thing better or different or new so small it seems. Yet our little victories seem to all grow together and every new one seems to tie the whole a little closer together. Until what? It seems our ideas stack one on top the other until we have a better whole. But will this lead to just a better machine capable of a few moments of frail movement?... or will it someday lead us to understand the one final thing that eludes us and intrigues us the most – ourselves? One day maybe we shall all know.

Something scares me, and it’s this. I mean writing. I’m scared that I won’t get down the things I’m thinking before I forget them. Things that are really important to me and things I feel and try to understand. If I don’t write them, than they’re gone and I never have them again. When it comes to writing I hate, I mean I hate to write things. It’s such a hassle yet it’s the only way I know to keep these thoughts. I don’t think I do too bad on some things I write and some I love because they reflect exactly the way I feel. Yet some are really rotten and some I can’t quite get right no matter what I do. Others, I have the same problem Richard Bach has, I keep repeating the same thing trying to express the way I feel, like Lilah for instance. But I guess it’s just the fact that it means very, very much to me and writing is a pretty poor expression of the feeling I have for Lilah: Love. And ya know Love – as a feeling can’t be written. There are no words for emotions that strong. All we can do is make hundreds of futile attempts at it until we’re exhausted and decide to sum it all up as just “love”.

But now all in all, the way I see it writing must come from the heart. You’ve got to feel what you write before you put it on paper. Then all you have to do is let it flow.

If you don’t feel it and write it that way, you’ll never be satisfied with what you write. And even then part of it you won’t like because words won’t always transfer what you think to a piece of paper – in any way you try. That’s too bad.

Here I sit wishing I were finished and I’m bored of writing, but if I don’t write this then it’s even worse, because then I forget it all and that’s sad.

If you forget your own thoughts and feelings then your liable to forget your life and you will disappear into yourself.

Thank you

Tim’s Journal December 11, 1978

We can each give some thought to how giving of ourselves in the right way could have a positive impact on the world. If each of us would do this, just think how the world would change.

This here should be the groundwork for a major thesis of mine – one that came to me this Christmas and I can’t put away since. See, this is a theological paper on you (and me and him and well, everyone). I know I won’t get it right unless I hash it through at least two or three times, but still there must be a first time. The ideas will be at random here – but honest – from the heart via that holding bin – my brain (I’m not sure I should call it a mind!).

So alas:

So you don’t believe in God eh? Well maybe you’d better – dig this: whom (like that style!) do you think of all the people that have past through the in and out doors of this planet, have stood out the most? Who has done the most to inspire

man? To help (and maybe even hurt) every man, woman and child to ever grace this earth since he past this way?

And the answer? No, it’s not Nixon, not Hitler, not Lindberg, Einstein, not even Reagan (threw that one in for all of you out of work and money!) – it was, yes, you guessed it – Jesus. That wonderful character you and I all know from almost the day we were born. (Think of the fact that this man is almost two thousand years old and still he’s the most famous man in all the world)

This man really did a lot for this world and he’s still doing. He brought us goodness and love – tried to teach us truth (tried – ah well the battle goes on). Through his efforts more has been done for good than by any other means. Think of that.

So we come back to you. So you don’t believe in God ‘eh. None of that higher being mystic heaven and hell stuff for you hmm? Only facts, only science – only truth.

If this is so then who was Jesus? If there is no God then Jesus could be no son of God. – and what would that make him? – he could be nothing more than another human being – a common flesh and blood person like every one before and since him – no mystical powers at all.

So what does this mean? All the wonderful things he did for this world and all of us and he was just another human being. That means he was just like you and me. Which means that you and me could do anything he could do. – We could change the world, save the planet, maybe help everyone be a little truer – even happier?

In every one of us there is the same possibility to believe and teach it (believe in ourselves?) that he had to make the world a better place. This is no small weight on each of us.

And all this is because you don’t believe in God.

A strange twist it is – yet it is there – you chose it. So before you go to bed at night and your looking yourself in the mirror, ask yourself ‘what have I done for the world today? And when you answer that, think of what you could have done.

Somehow it makes believing in God sound like a cop-out – an excuse to sell out for nothing more than the average. To once again compromise in a world filled with far too many compromises. What will we have – what is here or what we are capable of? And think of the waste you are; not striving for that potential.

And when you die? What will you have done for the world? Maybe you had better believe In God.

(It’s funny how this came to me during Christmas – seems strangely ironic- to me anyway.)

Tim’s Journal January 13, 1983

If you ever have thoughts of journaling, do it. Give the gift of yourself. You may be giving someone else their greatest gift.

Chapter 20

FLYING WITH FLAMES Predictions of a Fiery Death

Leave my past behind, Blast on to the future burning in a fiery mass into what may be a happier tomorrow. Leaving my home, with its memories below and in the past – Just as I do with today.

Tim’s Journal December 1981

Many times Tim wrote of wanting to live among the stars, dying, death, or crashing and burning in fire. It was disturbing to read entries like this all through his journaling. Was it a premonition or a prediction? Do some people know how they are going to die? Is there something we need to fulfill on this earth and once it has been done, it is then time to move on? I wondered about this in regards to my mother. I found no one that would say anything negative about her. Perhaps she learned what she needed to, she fulfilled her destiny, or perhaps she was just too good of a person to stay here on this earth. Why do some people stay a short time while others live to be a hundred years old? Sometimes I wish I knew the answer.

I know I’m gonna go down in flames over this.

Tim’s Journal September 28, 1986

However it works, that is what happened. Tim wrote this scenario many times, and then lost his life to a fiery crash in the mountains of Alaska. Was it for some higher purpose? Was he compelled to journal, than later lose his life so it could be part of this story? It has been said that everything is created spiritually before it is created physically, which could apply to our lives. Is it possible to know the future? This experience has been very emotional, healing, and powerfully spiritual. I have learned a great deal, and I feel very strongly that Tim may have made the ultimate sacrifice to help both of us grow.

Burn, you said – so he burns. Why?

Tim’s Journal September 1983

I still cry over the pain he went through during his living years. I also cry when I read his words referencing his own impending death, how did he know? I wish I had known how sad he really was, so I could have been there to help him, and give him some of the love he felt he was missing.

Although I have already used others in this story, here are a few more journal entries that reference these predictions, and these are not all of them, there are many more. They are in chronological order, beginning with the first one, from the beginning of the book that I found in his room in 1995, before I knew of his journals. This one may be the most prophetic of them all, and it touched me deeply.

It happened at 20,000 feet, what many said could never happen or would never.

In one split second it happened – a flash of movement and then disaster. One big concussion and it was tumbling hopelessly out of control in space, a ball of flames and metal. The chute came out but that didn’t matter anyway. It was all over and this man knew it. A few moments ago he was fine but in those few moments his life had been torn from his hands by a force so powerful it was beyond anyone’s ability. It was his own doom. He had prepared and worked for it all his life and now he had to face it too.

It was not a cruel end – for many men find a crueler one.

Tim’s Journal 1978

The truth, the truth. This man knows now, in this moment he sees his own destiny, his truth. The world has gone black and his death is near dragging him thru the few seconds of eternity that is left for him. He sees in the tumbling, bloody, scorching mass that was his vessel of freedom – his life the destruction of himself.

A great shock, a tumbling mass of fiery, bloody horror. The world spins, going black dark to the halls of hell. The pain eats away the body until it is isolated and the mind and soul are all that is left. The sickening awakening of seeing ones own fate. The demise of life, the tired and weary soul retires to death – yearning for it, praying it will come to relieve this nightmare. And still seconds hang on into eternities and every moment is sensed and felt, smelled – lived in pain. The wreckage twisting, spinning, torn into the element of its origin.

Tim’s Journal March 24, 1979

How can there be happiness for me? Me that is eternally unhappy. Me who haunts the lonely halls of death. Me that is dead. Where can life spring from for the body which has no soul? And the absurdity of life, - why must I suffer? What is it that I am missing? Why is it that my deepest truths are what separate me from the living world? And no, I will not bend – these truths are mine and I will die in hell before I violate them – which is the chief Irony of my life. – I am dying in hell. And without happiness? – No achievement will ever suffice to me. I will die in suffering desperation wishing someone else will notice the truth in me – give me love.

Tim’s Journal November 13, 1981

War

Oh the tired soul. He wishes to burn, to rage, to wash his soul with fire until it is clean again. He wants to fight – he cares little what it is he fights – he just wants to fight, burn, rage until his soul is pure again. To come out with a new heart, a new life, - all he cares about. “Set me free” he cries out in the dark hell he helped create. Wash the guilt from my heart, for I have not the strength myself and only his heart replies. Only quiet whispers of his own soul he hears – and they speak only of death – of peace finally brought down by violent, thrashing, tumbling, bloody, insanity brought about by the destruction of his body above a cool quiet earth. And he hears of darkness and silence eternal beyond all eternity, of existence where there is no existence. A place beyond life, emotion, even love. – Only peace, peace forever… - peace at last.

He knows his heart does not lie. – He knows his fate. His war will soon be over.

Tim’s Journal March 11, 1982

Have you ever died? I mean really dead – deep down inside. When there is no hope in anything – no care in any of life even a yearning for death and at least a final rest. A rest long awaited for by the oh so tired soul who has been searching for answers to questions unanswerable. A rest for the tired heart who has no love – and sees none.

And not even words left for the rest of this!

Tim’s Journal March 16, 1982

Out there on that highway you realize how far away from everything you really are. How distant the reality is from what you are – here – and now. You see how much you really want some of those past things in life – and how so terribly unfindable they are. The road teaches you how irreversable time is… the thing which ultimately destroys us all.

But have you ever been out there on that road? Out there with your feet on the ground and not a soul to pull you away from what is real. You are alone. And the night closes in on you. The black crashes down all around you to seal you off from anything but yourself. And yes, there is silence almost eternal…

And so there I see reality. There I see the futility of trying to wrestle with infinity. There I see the end of my life come by every moment. Even normalcy can break down until it becomes so hopeless – so horrifying. I have seen hell there. It has

almost destroyed me. I have seen myself.

And then I think of my family – of Cindy and them all – and I see how terribly far away from what was then we all are. We can never go back – it is hopeless. And so the little girl grew up – so did the little boy. I don’t quite understand this but it is the saddest thing of all to me – to see them grow old. Of all the things in life I don’t ever want to do is watch them die.

This is destroying me. It haunts me to insanity.

And soon on that highway I see death. Yet too, I see life. Most of all peace. Peace to see.

Maybe it is really peace which Is killing me. And I Would rather die myself Than any of them. Maybe I have. This is no joke.

Tim’s Journal April 1, 1982

And if I die

I will die happy Knowing I am at Last dead and the Pain is finally gone. For I could see No good in life

None at all No understanding, no love

No peace

In every meeting there Was only the pain of Saying goodbye No the joy of saying Hello

So I became the most frustrated soul ever to Live because in every Good thing there was

Only Pain – the better It is the worse it hurts

I shall be glad when I Am dead.

Tim’s Journal August 8, 1982

To touch a wing there is sure death. Where is this place? It does not exist, you say – you are dreaming. And I correct you – it is there in my mind – and it will be there in reality

Soon.

Tim’s Journal 1982

He is the pilot. Fire burns in his heart. His soul aches with the truth – the futility of life. Infinity once found a happy boy and the burning ashes alone survive – he is forever dying. Speak to him of the king of pain.

He burns – he flies – he wants to be free from it all. To fly is the only way, the only way. He knows down inside that death will find him there – crushed by violence that he wrought upon himself – somehow when it is time he won’t regret it at all. Peace – quiet peace at last.

Speak to god and tell the truth – show him what I am, if he sees and doesn’t like it – tis results of his own shame and if he wishes to condemn me? There’s something he should know

I am the result of his bidding – he created my soul.

I know only pain – here it comes again. Why does god only carry pain for me? Is there something one of us should see?

Somewhere in the month of July in 1983, Sting has inspired a young student to see his own heart a little more clearly – and to feel a little less lonely in his loneliness – it seems we two know the same pain.

The little black spot was born. It is a tribute to his own heart – and to a clearer way of expressing it. He wishes to fly – faster. He’s on fire.(Ultimately – which will extinguish it first - love or death?)

It’s my soul up there.

Tim’s Journal August 9, 1983

There’s a baby with the hope of life. There’s a happy little boy waking up to see his father. There’s a dying child standing next to his grave. There’s a teenager alive in the sunset of a sand dune. There’s a warrior understanding the bloody terror of war. There’s an old man who sees no hope.

There’s a soul trapped just feet above the earth – above the wave of understanding.

All frozen there for Eternity.

Life – death. Switch, switch. – Change. Who hit me in the head with that baseball bat? How come it took me so long to even see it? How long will it take to understand it? Why is the world this way? Where is God? I want to go home. – Got to be strong. Hang on long enough, you’ll find that hangin on is fun – no alternative anyway, right? You should go flying.

Tim’s Journal August 17, 1983

I want to fly – I will die as soon as I do. What good is love if I am going to hurt them by dying? I don’t want to die, but the understanding is there.

Tim’s Journal November 13, 1983

Burned out now. Embers flying thru the air nothing left but the remains.

Sometimes burning, sometimes cold as ice – he lives for greatness he cannot see.

He is free! He is alone. He is on fire – burning red hot, soul ablaze in an inferno that none can see – where will it end? An unending struggle between love and destruction.

If only I could explain. If only I could plainly show what it is that sets me aflame this way.

Tim’s Journal 1983

Went to work. We were going to the lake today when we were stopped for an hour and a half because a cement truck flipped over and crashed in the road. A car ran into it and the lady driving was killed. Her kid was hurt bad. It made me sad. Still, it’s amazing to see people, and yourself, and the fascination with death.

Tim’s Journal June 6, 1986

And someone way down here Loses someone dear… Permanent scars They can’t be seen Felt Understood Changed

My mind is permanently deformed Even my thoughts are uncontrolled I see no future No happiness Emotion

Tim’s Journal date unknown

After reading the entries, I wondered: If one were to know their fate from a very early age and have to live with that knowledge, how hard must it be to stay auspicious about life? If Tim was drawn so strongly to flying, yet knew it would take his life, perhaps this was part of his melancholy. If his fate hung precariously in his subconscious mind at all times, how hard might it have been to live an upbeat, optimistic life?

There are people who have a shorter time on this earth and strive to make it meaningful and fun. This is the lesson, do the best with what you have, learn from all you are given, no matter how short the lesson time may be. Cherish the time you have here. Don’t let tragedies define who you are. If you see your destiny, make the best of what lies ahead of you. Get your feet wet, jump in the river, and swim as strongly as you can!

Chapter 21

FLIGHT PLAN CLOSED

Peace – Peace and time. The lessons – the judgment – what they will teach you will be invaluable to you yet they will not come cheap. The frustration, the anger and the pain you feel here now will teach you things you could never know otherwise. Let time turn it to your benefit. If you look closely you will notice that the emotions you feel are necessary – as well as impossible to control – so let them be and they will run their course. : Time heals all things.

Tim’s Journal May 10, 1983

Gone is our innocence. Our world has grown up, changed, the hero’s left, justice fled to far away. Our hope is gone and we all cling to their memory like a lonely raft in the sea.

They’ve all gone – away forever.

Tim’s Journal February 23, 1979

This part of my journey felt like ing through a cloud shrouded with horror, tragedy, sadness, and sorrow. I was lost, my view obscured, as I groped in the mist for a clear path. I eventually emerged from the cloud to see the sun and feel peace floating around me. Though this cloud forever trails behind me, I have, at least, come out of it. The feeling of peace comes because I survived it. I continue striving to overcome adversity, turning it into a clear blue sky with the sun shining brightly. Another life lesson learned.

If this book contained the many tears I shed while writing it, it would be unreadable. The pages would be buckled, distorted and covered with smeared, blurred ink that was once words. The pain that permeates my heart is written on these pages for all to see, a pain that resides with me all my mortal days. I share this pain with you and how that pain has helped me continue to grow.

In this life, goodbyes are plentiful, with some of them becoming permanent. These goodbyes can lead us to new hellos that enrich our lives further. If you stay aware, and look closely, your new hellos may contain gifts of great magnitude.

If I could just get going fast enough, one day, to finally break through that barrier that seems to bind me to yesterday. If just once I could accept the future as an entity which is unconcerned with the past. I’ve always had these fantasies that if I were in maybe a jet or something, I could go so fast that my memories wouldn’t be able to catch up with me – at least for a while – and I would be a happy man at last. The past – the agonies, the pains – they would vanish and I could finally accept the world like the rest of them. The joy of understanding nothing, no consequences at all, no fear, just life in one blazing, vicious moment. Maybe this is why I am drawn to flying.

I am a prisoner of the past – of truth, reality, and conscience. Of the dream that they could have been.

I wish to be free.

Tim’s Journal February 4, 1983

Tim can now be at peace, ing Mother, whom he missed so much and longed to be with. He is sorely missed, but I feel he is happy now, flying free in the stars, bouncing off the clouds, and soaring through the heavens.

Yet no swords, no guns, no pain – only an airplane built by me, of my heart. The world turns by the fires of such things, but in me, the flames are far fiercer. I will fly and one day they will watch – in awe.

Tim’s Journal 1984

The story of losing my brother Tim, his life, my life through his disappearance and loss, my father’s desperate searching, and the years since our tragedy, concludes. My wish is that it to go forth, bringing validation and comfort to those who have lost loved ones, whatever the circumstance. Those who have lived through this have a kinship, tied together by pain and hurt, yet finding the strength to help one another. I send my love, through this book, to you. May you find it in yourself to smile, and love and care for those surrounding you that are still alive. May you find the strength to carry on through your life. Make it a meaningful journey, whether the waters are crazy, churning rapids, or calm, smooth and gentle flowing, through your river of life.

Futures are pasts in reverse

To play with as we wish To bend and shift for all to see

The past is the end, gone and cold The present is to make plans for the future The future is to live To love and hold The future is what we are What we will be What we can be… It is our hope

Tim’s Journal February 28, 1979

Tim, my mother, my sister, my father, and my dear friend Lona are all together in the other realm we call death. May they all fly freely together, filled with love.

Goodbye for now.

I miss you all, but…

The tear will always be in my eye.

The step is taken We have moved We are moving… Like the world in its miraculous ways Our lives are also turned By the best of days

I am committed hereafter To my hearts content For I have flown

Tim’s Journal 1984

I must go. The wind came today – I am blowin’ in the wind. One must always follow the wind. I am gone.

I love you all but The wind is my home

Goodbye

Tim’s Journal November 1983

The End

And the Beginning….

Of New Hellos.