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Robert Adolph Boehm, in accordance with his lifelong dedication to his own personal brand of decorum, muttered his last unintelligible and likely unnecessary curse on October 6, 2024, shortly before tripping backward over “some stupid mother****ing thing” and hitting his head on the floor.
Robert was born in Winters, TX, to the late Walter Boehm and Betty Smith on May 6, 1950, after which God immediately and thankfully broke the mold and attempted to cover up the evidence. [...]
Robert made due by learning to roof, maintain traffic signs with the City of Amarillo, and eventually becoming a semi-professional truck driver – not to be confused with a professional semi-truck driver.
With peace on the horizon, Robert’s attention somewhat counterintuitively drifted to weapons of war, spanning the historical and geographical spectrum from the atlatl of 19,000 BC France, to the sjambok of 1830s Africa, to the Mosin-Nagant M1891 of WWII-era Soviet Union. So many examples of these mainstream hobbyist items litter his small Clarendon, Texas, apartment that one of them may very well have been the item referenced in his aforementioned eloquent final epitaph. [...]
Robert also kept a wide selection of harmonicas on hand – not to play personally, but to prompt his beloved dogs to howl continuously at odd hours of the night to entertain his many neighbors, and occasionally to give to his many, many, many grandchildren and great-grandchildren to play loudly during long road trips with their parents.
Earlier this year, in February, God finally showed mercy upon [wife] Dianne, getting her the hell out of there for some well-earned peace and quiet. [...]
We have all done our best to enjoy/weather Robert’s antics up to this point, but he is God’s problem now.
