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Saturday, July 7, 2012

More About the Crash of Flight 610

It has been a while since I’ve continued my recent blog series on negative NDE’s. Ted and I have been traveling, camping, and visiting friends since June 23. We have visited several National Parks, including Yosemite, Grand Canyon, Zion, Bryce, Capitol Reef, Canyonlands, Arches, Rocky Mountain National Park, and Cedar Breaks National Monument. Our ultimate goal was to visit Ft. Collins, Colorado, where we were met by Lori Juszak of Ft. Collins Tours. She led us into the Armadillo Garage, where for a few years pieces of UAL Flight 610 were stored after the crash on Crystal Mountain, close to Rocky Mountain National Park. Lori tells me that it was an 81 year old man, a first responder at the crash site in ‘51, who attended a tour and provided that snippet of information.

Why was it important? Please refer to my blog post, “Did the KGB Sabotage a UAL Flight During the Korean War?” Lori’s tours are first and foremost to preserve the rich history of Ft. Collins. It turned out in the course of events that several of the local stories she garnered from various sources were about haunted locations. The Armadillo Garage was one of those locals. There were three suicides and a murder associated with the property. Plus the crash connection.

On one of Lori’s tours, a teenage boy had an iOvilus application on his phone. The tour guides do not allow communication with the spirits that seem to inhabit certain spots, but if someone has an EVP recorder or iOvilus app, they don’t object if they use them. In fact, Lori now has one, mostly due to the interesting words that came through on that unique occasion.
Yesterday, I had Lori write down the words. The young lad’s app: fly, explode, highjack, suppress, metal. Lori downloaded the app on her phone then and there. On Lori’s app, Korea, atom. Lori just dismissed the whole thing because she had no idea what any of it meant and thought it was just random words. Later still, the word crystal appeared. On all of these occasions, no one really knew anything about the ’51 crash or my research and my theory that the plane was hijacked. Or that it crashed on Crystal Mountain. It was later research, my account on, and our subsequent correspondence that helped them put it all together. A woman named Erika F. from Ft. Collins wrote me out of the blue and told me about those serendipitous events. She was a student in one of Lori’s classes on the paranormal.

Yesterday, Lori showed me how the $2 app works. You turn it on and words begin to appear. I saw four appear while she stood and explained what it does. Sometimes a computer voice will pronounce a word or two. Lori told me that when they actually use EVP recorders, the spirits call the women ‘lizards,’ which it turns out is what uncouth men called women of ill repute in days gone by. There is one place that Lori won’t return to because the door keeps slamming in her face.

I am not going to buy this app. The reason is that any communication coming through it is most likely originating from a lost spirit of some sort. Lori told me that in the old jail morgue, there is supposed to be the spirit of a little boy. He has been there for decades or more. So, years after his alleged death, he is still a child and still trapped in a cluttered, dirty, dark cellar. Perhaps it’s not a child at all, but something pretending to be in order to garner attention and manipulate the living. Whatever the answer is, this is an entity that is not ‘in the light.’ These electronic devices are fascinating, but they may be ‘the devil’s sound system’ (words I woke up with this morning).

Lori has written a little book called The Ghosts of Ft. Collins. Dad’s story made it into the book at the very last minute. Information about the Flight 610 crash is sparse in that book, but she is interested in learning all she can about the crash (and so am I) and will include more information in her next book called The Hidden History, which will expand on forgotten stories from this charming little town. I am hoping to pick up my copy of the first book tomorrow.

We will be traveling until the 11th, so I may not be blogging again until after that. But I thought I would end this post with a poem that I wrote when I was attending the University of Washington (c. 1964). My dorm room overlooked Lake Washington. I sat staring that the majestic view, focusing only on my curiosity about death and afterlife and my deceased father. A picture formed in my head. My dad standing on a hill that represented death and a flagpole with a flyer’s leather jacket, all tattered and torn. This is what I wrote.

We saw him standing on a hill alone,

A man reluctantly accepting death.

A last look back. He winked, “I can see the other side.”

Then gone he was, his memory flapping in a dying wind.

The sun cares not to teach, or cannot

When I question the wind-breath.

And I wish my soul could find that hill

On which our hopes are pinned.

First of all, I thought it was cool that ‘wind’ and ‘pinned’ rhymed. It just sort of worked out that way. Then I almost erased the word ‘wind-breath’ about five times. Finally I thought to leave it because although I had no idea what it meant or where it came from, it felt right. So, the poem seems to be about the depressing futility of searching for ineffable truth. I folded it up, tucked it away in my wallet, and forgot about it.

BUT, not too long after writing that poem I turned in my agnosticism for a commitment to Jesus Christ. Soon I was reading books on theology. One of them discussed the ruach Elohim, the Spirit of God or Holy Spirit. The word means ‘wind,’ ‘breath,’ or ‘spirit.’ The book actually used the word, ‘wind-breath.’ I thought, ‘where have I heard that word. It seems so familiar.’ Then I opened my wallet and re-read the poem for the first time since I wrote it.

So dad made it. When he winked at me in 1964 or ‘65, I knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that he wanted me to know that what he saw on the other side was OK. So I can rest easy that my dad, the captain of UAL 610, is not a mournful spirit trapped in a junky old garage. He is resting with my Lord and I’ll see him again someday. In the meantime, it's time for me to finish writing the story of my own research on the topic!