Tim Eagen
October 4, 1952 - September 17, 2007

Once in a while the stars align in just the right way and you cross paths with someone who is a kindred spirit. The stars aligned just right for me almost twenty-five years ago. I first met Tim when he came to work at the real estate development firm where I worked; I recall the year to be 1982. I was the Project Manager and Tim was hired as the Sales Manager for a condominium and town-house project we were building in St Paul.

It wasn't long before we found out that we shared the same passion for fishing, in particular trout fishing. It was in this common pursuit that our friendship was forged. Almost immediately we began sharing fishing adventures, at first to the North and South Shores of Lake Superior, fishing for the migrating rainbow trout that run the rivers in these locales, but soon expanding our horizons to Michigan, Alaska, the Minnesota and Ontario Boundary Waters and more recently to Canada.

Some things were almost a certainty about these adventures, they involved some means of water transport; usually a canoe or raft, and some type of piscatorial pursuit, (trout, salmon, small mouth bass or walleye) and they almost always required camping.

You quickly learn a lot about a person when you share the inside of a car on a long road trip, or the same tent, raft, boat or canoe on a wilderness trek. What we learned about and shared with each other formed a strong friendship bond that endured through the years.

I learned that Tim snored as loud as I did and that both of us were sound sleepers, so we usually ended up tenting together. We both enjoyed camp cooking and sitting around a camp fire at night, listening to the music of the river as we sipped on three fingers of scotch. We enjoyed the strong fight of a steelhead trout and the smell of a walleye fillet frying in the pan. We shared the rising of autumn moons over the high hills of Alaska's Kilbuck Mountains as we gathered blueberries and salmon berries from a tundra covered hillside so that camp could have berry pancakes in the morning, all the while keeping an eye out for bears. I remember mornings that we had to start a fire to melt the water that froze over night before we could brew the first pot of coffee, but the smell of fresh coffee brewing and the aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls baking in the camp oven made us soon forget. We learned to love the sweat lodge that we would erect a couple of times per trip, the water would turn to steam as you poured it, hissing across the heated rocks and you could feel the hot steam rise over your body and chase the days chill away. We learned to despise muddy portages and enjoy the down-hill ones in the Boundary Waters. We enjoyed the rhythm of the paddle and the gentle slap of waves against the bow and we learned to appreciate a good tail wind. We listened to the call of the loons as they cavorted across the lake and we were startled by the sudden slap of the beaver's tail. We loved the smell of wood smoke and pine as we would nod off to sleep in our bags, exhausted at the end of a long day. We enjoyed the entire experience and we enjoyed each others company.

All of you know that Tim was a communicator, he loved to talk to anyone about anything, yet I can remember spending entire days floating on a wilderness Alaska river when few words would be exchanged between us, we were in our zone, absorbing the experience, the scenery, the wildlife and of course the fishing. Verbal communication was not necessary, it was simply understood. Tim was the consummate companion during these many adventures.

On these trips we also had opportunities for long conversations about things that really mattered in our lives and I began to understand what a truly good man he was. I learned that he was a staunch family man, that nothing was more important than Vicki and his girls, Abbey, Erin and Mara. He cherished his relationships with his sisters, brothers, many nephews and nieces. I learned that he made friends for life and he shared those friends with others. I learned that he was a man with a strong faith, but that he never imposed it on anyone, I learned that his faith manifested itself in his actions. He was always reaching out to help someone who had a need, no matter how large or how small. He would offer his assistance and his friendship.

I also learned that there was a vain side to him. He loved to dress natty and to look hip and with-it. He dyed his hair.

Some people are clothes horses, Tim was a shoe horse. He would tell me how mad Vicki got when she counted his shoes. Sometimes he would own two or three pairs of the same shoe if he got a good deal on them. I learned he loved his Ugh slippers and hated to wear socks in the summer.

I also learned he loved a bargain and would grocery shop for the family on Saturdays and would go to three or four stores with his coupons. But then the next day he would spend $400.00 on two Eider-Down pillows. He did love his bedding; cotton percale sheets, feather beds and of course his down filled pillows. He was an E-Bay addict as well, spending hours on the internet, often into the wee hours of the morning, searching for bargains.

He also enjoyed playing the stock market. I know that he and his sister Nancy would share daily phone calls where they would try and strategize their next big score.

You see, there wasn't much that I didn't learn about Tim

In 1995 Tim asked be to join him in the mortgage business. I did, and it has turned out to be one of the most satisfying periods of my life. I not only enjoyed the work but I enjoyed working for Tim. I saw first hand the talent that he had to earn the friendship and respect of his customers and colleagues. He was everything from cheerleader to father-confessor and he always had a way to energize and motivate his staff. He considered every one of them a friend. You can look around our office and almost all of us have a long professional history with Tim, some going back over twenty years. You cannot demand the loyalty and respect of an employee, it has to be earned, and Tim earned his respect every day.

Tim was a good man! He was a good husband, a good father, a good brother, a good uncle, a good boss, a good fisherman, a good oudoorsmen and a good friend.

Goodbye for now my friend, but we will meet again soon, in the half light of the campfire as the firewood crackles and the tendrils of smoke swirl and rise toward the stars. Then we will share three fingers of scotch and reminisce about the good times.