THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND

I have often watched early 20^th century video segments of crowd scenes on YouTube and social media.

A crowd of men, women and children cheering on their WWI military heroes; shortly after their return from Europe. People going about their business on the streets of New York City. Teddy Roosevelt making a speech during a ‘Bull Moose’ political rally.

And I cannot watch these pieces of celluloid footage without thinking,

“They’re ALL gone now. Every one of them. Even the children.”

(and)

“They were busy living, and breathing, and moving, and loving then; when they were, and we were not. Now we are, and they are not. And one day, some yet unborn person will say the same thing about us.”

My employer, the owner of a small construction company, salvaged a few hundred bricks from the demolition of an ancient city street. He keeps one of them in the shop. Jeff has told me that he has found fingerprints on some of the bricks; left there by whomever first formed them. Those hands that are no longer tangible, and have no ability to touch anything, and will never do so again.

Somehow, this kind of notion strikes me rather poignant, and calls to mind that old poem about the dilapidated violin entitled, “The Touch of the Master’s Hand.”

As a counselor, I have often used rather graphic terms when referring to my ultimate demise, and have prefaced various statements to my clients and interns with,

“Long after I am moldering away…”

We simply can’t stay here. And it behooves us to leave something of ourselves behind.

Those brickmakers of which I alluded left bricks. My father was a talented landscape artist and amateur genealogist, and he left paintings and family documentation. I am a writer, counselor and mentor, and I will leave something of myself behind in the persons of those whom God has providentially decided to set in my pathway.

I love a phrase I once heard at a graduation exercise.

“My students are living messages to a time that I will never see.”

One of my former interns once gave me the greatest gift I have ever received when she said,

“Dr. Bill, I don’t want to disappoint you. I’ll go for you when you can no longer go. I’ll speak for you when you can no longer speak. I’ll reach, teach and keep people in your name long after you have gone on to your reward.”

And with this in mind, much like the creator of those bricks, and the fingerprints permanently imprinted in them, I intend to

…leave something behind.

 by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

If you wish to copy, share or save, please include the credit line, above

THE LIFE AND LEGACY OF AMY CARMICHAEL

I consider the late Amy Carmichael to be one of my mentor figures. She was a British missionary who went to India, served there about half a century, and never returned home.

She opened an orphanage in India and rescued many ceremonial child prostitutes from the Hindu temples. After she had served in this country for years, she experienced a fall which left her disabled. She continued to run the orphanage from her bed.

After Amy Carmichael died no headstone was erected, as she had forbidden it. To this day there is a bird bath over her grave bearing one word - Amma - which means "Mother." Amy's orphanage continues to minister to dozens of Indian children decades after her passing.

THE SURRENDER LUNCH

I admit to having contracted the genealogy bug. As a matter of fact, I am badly infected. But if there’s a cure somewhere out there, I don’t want to get well.

A few years ago, I discovered I am related to one of the Mayflower passengers, Richard Warren. And at about the same time, I discovered a list of his descendants; more famous than he could have ever hoped to be.

Ernest Hemingway, Franklin Roosevelt, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Richard Gere, Ulysses S. Grant.

Speaking of the latter of the five, even if you are a passing student of history, I expect you are aware that he was the final commanding General of the Union Army during the American Civil War. (Yeah. He was).

Among all my famous cousins ole Ulysses is my favorite, at least my most thought about; (in spite of the fact that I am a Southerner by birth). But it’s not for no reason this is the case.

You see, my friend (Dennis S.) is descended from (drum roll) the final commanding General of the Confederate Army Robert E. Lee. I mean “go figure.” Almost like our personal little “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” scenario. (Don’t ya think)?

Funny, how history falls together, and how a single decision might have irrevocably changed the accounts in our textbooks. I previously wrote a reflection on the German dictator Adolph Hitler. He had applied for acceptance at the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna. In spite of the obvious quality of his paintings, he was rejected. Had one man decided in his favor, we might remember Hitler as a world-renowned artist, rather than, well, the way we remember him. What might have been.

The same historical irony accompanied General Robert E. Lee. He had been offered command of the Union Army by President Abraham Lincoln. He considered it, but opted for command of the Confederate Army instead. Who can say whether this great grandson-in-law of President Washington might have, in short order, led the stronger Union Army to victory?

After the war, General Grant went on to be elected President of the United States. After the war, General Lee went on to be appointed President of Washington-Lee College. While, to my knowledge, no photo exists of the April 1865 surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia, there is a single picture of Grant and Lee commensurating together; just four years after the conclusion of the war.

Dennis and I jokingly refer to one another as “Gen. Grant” and “Gen. Lee.” We break bread on a monthly basis, and I have referred to this recurring opportunity for camaraderie as our “Surrender Lunch.” However, unlike the original Civil War surrender ceremony, nobody wins.

Well, come to think of it, I guess we both win.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

HAPPY TRAILS TO YOU

The young guns may not understand the meaning of this, but you will. The Roy Rogers Museum in Branson, MO has closed its doors forever. The contents of the museum were sold at a public auction. Roy Rogers told his son, if the museum ever operates at a loss, close it, and sell the contents. He complied. Note the follow-on article truly the end of an era.

Here is a partial listing of some of the items that were sold at auction:

Roy's 1964 Bonneville (Pontiac) sold for $254,500. It was estimated to sell between 100 and 150 thousand dollars.

His script book from the January 14,1953 episode of This Is Your Life sold for $10,000 (EST. $800-$1,000).

A collection of signed baseballs (Pete Rose, Duke Snyder, and other greats) sold for $3,750.

A collection of signed bats (Yogi Berra, Enos Slaughter, Bob Feller, and others) sold for $2,750.
Trigger 's saddle and bridle sold for $386,500.
One of many of Roy's shirts sold for $16,250 and one of his many cowboy hats sold for $17,500.

One set of boot spurs sold for $10,625. (He never used a set of spurs on Trigger)

His flight jacket sold for $7,500

His set of dinnerware plates and silverware sold for $11,875.

The Bible they used at the dinner table every night sold for $8,750.

One of several of his guitars sold for $27,500.

Nellybelle (the Jeep) sold for $116,500.

Bullet (stuffed) sold for $35,000 (EST. 10-15 K). He was their real pet.

Dale's parade saddle, estimated to sell between 20-30 K, sold for $104,500.

One of many pairs of Roy's boots sold for $21,250.

Trigger (stuffed) sold for $266,500.

Do you remember the 1938 movie The Adventures of Robinhood, With Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland? Well, Olivia rode Trigger in that movie. Trigger was bred on a farm co-owned by Bing Crosby. Roy bought Trigger on a time payment plan for $2,500. Roy and Trigger made 188 movies together. Trigger even outdid Bob Hope by winning an Oscar in the movie Son of Paleface in 1953.

It is extremely sad to see this era lost forever. Despite the fact that Gene and Roy's movies, as well as those of other great characters, can be bought or rented for viewing, today's kids would rather spend their time playing video games. Today it takes a very special pair of parents to raise their kids with the right values and morals. These were the great heroes of our childhood, and they did teach us right from wrong, and how to have and show respect for each other and the animals that share this earth.

You and I were born at the right time. We were able to grow up with these great people even if we never met them. In their own way they taught us patriotism and honor. We learned that lying and cheating were bad, and that sex wasn't as important as love. We learned how to suffer through disappointment and failure and work through it. Our lives were drug free.

So it's good-bye to Roy and Dale, Gene and Hoppy (Hop-a-long Cassidy), the Lone Ranger and Tonto. Farewell to Sky King (and Penny)and Superman and (Dragnet) Sgt Friday. Thanks to Capt. Kangaroo, Mr. Rogers, and Capt. Noah and all those people whose lives touched ours, and made them better.
Happy Trails... It was a great ride through childhood

P.S. Don 't send this to anyone under 50.... they won't understand!

DO OUR DEARLY DEPARTED PETS GO TO HEAVEN?

Almost everyone has lost a beloved pet.  They become part of the family. I remember my first dog. I suppose I was 8 or 9 when Princess, a beautiful black and white cocker spaniel, became part of our family. I can’t account for it, but we apparently kept her outside, since I don’t remember our little pooch residing in the house with us.

Unfortunately, Princess had a tendency to chase the motorized vehicles which came and went down a street not far from where I stand tonight; Formosa Avenue. And on such and such a day, she decided to run down a dump truck which was lumbering by our home at that moment. It is a foregone conclusion. The dump truck won. My friends, though over six decades have come and gone since I lost my precious Princess, I can still tear up when I think of her.

So, what happens to pets after they die? Do they go to heaven?  Will we ever see our dearly departed pets again?  What, after all, is their fate?  What does the Bible say about animals after they die?  These precious beloved animals include dogs, cats, horses, and even a few unorthodox pets that families have grown to love and grieve after they are gone.  What does the Word of God say about whether or not we will see our pets again?

The Bible is clear that babies and young children who die before they are able to accept Jesus Christ as Savior go directly into the presence of the Lord.  When a parent loses a child, they can be comforted with this fact, but this does not mean that they will not grieve for them. The same is true of our pets. They are part of the family.  We treat them like our own children.

Many elderly couples and those who have had a spouse die are left only with their pets, and an animal’s companionship has sustained them through many lonely days and long nights.  A pet’s love is completely unconditional.  They don’t care what your day was like, what went

wrong at work, what your mood is when you come home.  They are always ready to jump up into your lap and are so full of joy at seeing you that they display this love in their actions.  How often I have come home from a hard day at work only to have my beloved dog run with joy to greet me. 

Our dearly departed Buddy, a white Shih Tzu, seemed to intuitively know when my wife would arrive home from her nursing duties at the Rohr Home; a few hundred yards from this church. Buddy just seemed to have a inner clock, and at about 11:20pm she would toddle over to the front door, and sometimes peer between the curtains of our picture window. Within minutes Jean would walk in the door.

There is a curious verse in the Old Testament.

“You preserve mankind and animals, alike.” (Psalm 36:6)

One interpretation of the verse is that not only will mankind and animals co-exist on the new earth, but that they will also live together in heaven.

I especially like the passage in the New Testament.

“Aren’t five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet, not one of them has been forgotten by your heavenly Father.” (Luke 12:6)

My earthly father was an exterminator. I suppose in the course of his thirty years in the business he killed off multiplied millions of rats, cockroaches, spiders and termites. (And speaking of their eternal destinies, I cringe at the thought that a multiplicity of these unhappy vermin might have greeted my dad when he walked through the pearly gates)! As a result, I think we can (conveniently) exclude roaches and rats from any consideration of eternal life.

Perhaps the most convincing of all scriptures which supports the presence of animals in God’s kingdom is found in the Book of Isaiah.

“The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them. The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox. The infant will play near the cobra’s den, the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.” (Isaiah 11:6-9)

Perhaps I think too much, and perhaps I am too sensitive, but at times I have reflected on what the turkey, or hamburger, or steak looked like long before I stuffed them in my salivating mouth, (while they lived, and moved, and breathed), and the regrettable fate of the birds of the pen, and the cows of the pasture. I mean, the majority of us would no more participate in the slaughter of one of these creatures, than we would walk barefoot across the Sahara Desert. (Of course, we don’t mind devouring the final product; after we take it out of the oven).

At any rate, like C.S. Lewis (and I certainly don’t put myself in a league with him) I am convinced that animals will inhabit the new heavens and the new earth, and more importantly to me, I am convinced that I will see my deceased pets again one day.

Oh, how I loved Princess, Buddy and Lucy, as well as Queenie who is still with us, a couple of cats named Tom and Night, and an unnamed squirrel monkey which escaped from his cage when I was a teen.

And I think, no I feel certain, that I will see this menagerie of creatures on the other side of this life.

On a rather light, or morbid note, (depending on your particular mindset) having considered ‘permatizing’ my pooch, I once looked over at Buddy, and asked,

“Buddy, would you like to be freeze dried when you die?”

And I kid you not, my furry friend responded with the most contentious look I had ever witnessed on her canine countenance. But to be sure, I’m convinced that we will see our pets again. At least, I have asked our heavenly Father for the favor of their eternal presence next to me.

Can it be sixty years since that black & white Cocker Spaniel, Princess, graced my life? And with the passing of decades, Buddy, and Lucy, and Queenie filled the successive emptiness left by the one before.

And of course, as each went “the way of all flesh” I expected the obligatory wait ‘til I would see any, or all of them again.

But, have you heard the old adage,

…“There’s always an exception to the rule.” (?)

I was heartbroken when my Buddy crossed the so-called Rainbow Bridge.

I was nearing 60, and I found myself coping with a loss with which I hadn’t contended in half a century. The demise of a beloved pet. The tears came, and continued to come hot and heavy, as they had when my little Princess had gone on to her reward.

I don’t exactly know what I believe about “visitations from the great beyond;” (except the admonition of scripture that we refrain from ‘following after’ such things). I can only bear witness to the unique experiences which were mine, (and mine alone) after my little Buddy left the scene, and the resulting perspective that God can do anything He “jolly well chooses” to do.

It had been, at the most, a few days since Buddy “gave up the ghost” and my emotions were as raw as the day she left us. My furry friend and I had slept in the same bed for years, and there was no one to complain about the arrangement, as my wife had long since “taken up residence” in her own bedroom; due to her work as a shift nurse.

My little Buddy had her own pillow at the foot of the bed. (And I’m not ashamed to admit that after her demise I still keep a token pillow at the end of my bed).

At any rate, after I resorted to my bedroom one night, and the combination of weariness and grief overcame my wakefulness, I experienced something completely unexpected, and unbidden.

…Breathing

Or at least the sensation of something up against my right shoulder, and that something was

…Respiring.

To be sure, no audible sound escaped the lungs of whatever lay next to me. Only the physical sensation of something breathing in and out, in and out as this non-descript thing lay hard against my shoulder.

And as you might well imagine, several seconds transpired before I conjured up the wherewithal to look. I mean, by this time I was all too aware that I, and I, alone should be the only entity filling up the 65 square foot rectangular surface upon which I resided.

Ultimately, I turned to look.

And what greeted my eyes was,

… absolutely nothing.

And when it was all said and done, what do I believe occurred that night? I believe that this ethereal manifestation was simply God’s grace, and assurance to me that I would see my little Buddy again, that she and the other dear creatures I have lost are happy and healthy and waiting for me on the other side of this life.

And in regard to this assurance, the back cover of the only volume I have thus far published contains the following words, and which speaks to my first few moments in heaven.

“But perhaps our Savior will smile, and beckon with His hand, as if to say, ‘Well, Bill there they are. What are you waiting for? There’s fields, and flowers and trees aplenty. Go for it. Romp and run and carry on. Love those wonderful little puppies of yours for all you’re worth.’

“And with this I’ll turn and my four most favorite creatures will be

looking up at me expectantly; eyes shining, ears twitching and tails wagging. With this, my heart will skip a few beats, and I’ll scoop them up into my arms, and they will rest contentedly against my shoulders.

“And best of all…we’ll remember one another, and the love we knew will be undimmed, and stronger for the years we were apart.”

I admit it. I don’t fancy meeting and greeting the cows and pigs and birds I consumed in this life on the other side; (but perhaps given the amazing glory of God and His angels, they won’t hold it against me)!

However, a more crucial and serious question than whether our pets will be in heaven presents itself.

Jack Wellman, in his article, “Do Pets Go to Heaven” concluded with the following admonition:

“The crucial thing is whether you, my reader, will be in heaven.  It is pointless to ponder the question of whether your pet will be in heaven, if you, yourself are not there.  The only way to be sure is to make certain you go there.

“Decide today to accept Jesus Christ as your Savior, and have the full assurance that you will go to heaven, and receive eternal life.  As for your pets being in heaven or not, the only way to find out is to go there yourself.  That is my prayer for you.”

by William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Wednesday Night Sermons" series. Copyright pending
If you would like to copy, share or save, please include the credit line, above

THE NOTES & MELODIES OF MY LIFE

There are certain movies that I watch again and again. They simply never grow old. 

“A Beautiful Mind”

“Jane Eyre”

“Driving Miss Daisy”

“Mr. Holland’s Opus”

Speaking of “Mr. Holland’s Opus,” I love the closing scene. But to back up a bit.

Mr. Holland has served as a music teacher in an Oregon high school for thirty years; having begun what he described as a temporary “gig,” but at this stage passionately loving every minute the job has afforded him. However, one day he is notified that, for lack of funding, not only is his job being cut, but more importantly the entire music program in his beloved school is being discontinued.

Of course, he experiences depression and disillusionment, and we are witnesses as our hero, on his final day, trudges into his classroom for the last time, and begins to pack a small box of meager possessions.

As he finishes that solemn job, his wife and adult son walk into the classroom, and they subsequently walk out together. And as sad as this scene is, it would be sadder still if that was all there was to it.

However, as the trio approach the front door of the school, Mr. Holland pauses. He hears music wafting from the closed double doors of the auditorium; that same auditorium in which he has previously conducted numerous musicals and benefits over the years.

Mr. Holland poses a question; almost to himself.

“What is that?”

And with this, he turns to investigate the dilemma; leaving his wife and son a few steps behind.

As the aged music teacher opens the door, he seems momentarily confused. The auditorium is full of teachers, students, community leaders and friends, and a large and colorful sign hangs above the stage.

“Goodbye Mr. Holland!”

The frumpy little man catches his breath, and seemingly in an instant the morose emotions which had recently overwhelmed him flee away, and are replaced with a spirit of reflection and gratitude.

An energetic dynamic and joyfulness prevails in this place, and there can be little doubt that Glenn Holland has impacted countless lives represented here. He has been not only a teacher, but a leader; a mentor and a role model. He has contributed mightily to the destinies of countless students, and bequeathed a rich legacy to those who would follow in his footsteps.

Suddenly, the doors swing open again, and in walks a vibrant red-headed woman, accompanied by a couple of highway patrolmen. And Mr. Holland immediately recognizes “Gertrude Lang.”

Gertrude was a former student, and during her tenure here had struggled to master the clarinet. Her devoted teacher suggested she come in before school and allow him to tutor her.

As the young lady places the reed into her mouth and blows, the most horrendous excuse for music invades the air about her. Mr. Holland displays the seeming patience of Job, and continues to work with Gertrude, offering her a bit of guidance here, a story or metaphor there; until she gets it right.

Even as this obviously adept and confident woman strides towards the podium, she reflects on that day from so long ago.

“What do you like most about yourself, Miss Lang?”

To which she responds, “My hair.”

“Why is that Gertrude?”

The pale young redhead smiles, and says, “My father says it reminds him of the sunset.”

Mr. Holland’s response is both poignant and inspiring,

…“Play the sunset.”

And with that, a spark of insight seems to envelope the teenage girl’s countenance, and with that Miss Lang’s clarinet emits the most melodious notes which have ever escaped from it.

As the middle-aged woman mounts the stage, the announcer’s voice booms across the auditorium.

“Teachers and students of Kennedy High School, the honorable Gertrude Lang, Governor of the State of Oregon.”

The governor stations herself behind the microphone, smiles broadly towards her former teacher, and begins her monologue,

“Mr. Holland had a great influence on my life. On a lot of lives at Kennedy High School, I know. And I have the feeling that he considers a great deal of his life misspent. He wrote this symphony of his to be performed, possibly to make him rich or famous; probably both. Well, he isn’t rich or famous; except in this little town.

He might even consider his life a failure… but I think he has achieved a success which goes beyond mere riches or fame. Look around you, Mr. Holland. For there is not a life in this room that you have not touched. And each of us is a better person for meeting you, or for being your student. This is your symphony, Mr. Holland. We are the notes and melodies of your opus.

…We are the music of your life.”

Over the past few decades, God has graciously provided me the opportunity to counsel thousands, (in a pastoral counseling environment), teach hundreds, (at a local university), and mentor dozens, (in the context of a formal discipleship program). And I acknowledge not only that providential plan which allowed all of this to fall into place, but the gracious wherewithal He has bestowed upon me to make a difference in the lives of them whom He has set in my pathway.

And like Mr. Holland, I am neither rich nor famous; not even in my little town. But I like to think that with all my time and effort, I have irrevocably touched the lives which He has committed to my care; in a profound and inestimable way.

And if this is the case, well, that will be more than enough for me.

I may not be the most humble person who ever walked the planet. I am too close to the thing to judge properly. But I have often reminded my students that “it is okay to forget the messenger. Just don’t forget the message.”

(and)

“My students are living messages to a time that I will never see.”

Those whom I have had the marvelous opportunity to teach, counsel, mentor and impact represent the notes and melodies of my own opus.

…They are the music of my life.

by William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary, Vol. 44. Copyright pending

If you wish to copy, save or share, please include the credit line, above

I DON'T WANT TO DISAPPOINT YOU

A decade ago, as I concluded a mentoring session in which one of my former interns was assisting me, Rita suddenly (and in a quite ad-lib manner) said,

"Dr. Bill, I don't want to disappoint you. I'll go for you when you can no longer go. I'll speak for you when you can no longer speak. I'll reach, teach and keep people in your name long after you have gone on to your reward."

This is, after all, the purpose and focus of my life, and would you believe my student's words not only gladdened my heart, but affirmed what I have been attempting to do for so long.

MAY ALL WHO COME BEHIND US FIND US FAITHFUL

by Jon Mohr, 1987

We're pilgrims on the journey
Of the narrow road
And those who've gone before us line the way
Cheering on the faithful,
encouraging the weary
Their lives a stirring testament to God's sustaining grace

Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses
Let us run the race not only for the prize
But as those who've gone before us
Let us leave to those behind us
The heritage of faithfulness passed on through godly lives

Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful

After all our hopes and dreams have come and gone
And our children sift though all we've left behind
May the clues that they discover and the memories they uncover
Become the light that leads them to the road we each must find 

Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful

THE CURIOUS CASE OF THE MAN WHO WENT TO IRELAND TO DISAPPEAR

The Peter Bergmann case is an unsolved mystery pertaining to the death of an unidentified man in County Sligo, Ireland. From 12 to 16 June 2009, a man using the alias "Peter Bergmann" visited the coastal seaport town of Sligo, in northwest Ireland. He used this alias to check into the Sligo City Hotel, where he stayed during the majority of his visit, and was described by the hotel staff and tenants as having a heavy German accent. The man's movements were captured on CCTV throughout the town; however, the details of his actions and intentions remain unknown. His interactions with other people were limited, and little is known of his origins or the reason for his visit to Sligo.

On the morning of 16 June, the body of the unidentified man was discovered at Rosses Point beach, a popular recreation destination and fishing area near Sligo. Despite having conducted a five-month investigation into the death of "Peter Bergmann", the police have never been able to identify the man or develop any leads in the case.^[1]

The mystery is often compared to the Tamam Shud case, of Australia, in which an unidentified man was found dead on a beach shortly after World War II, though the Peter Bergmann case has not achieved nearly the same amount of notoriety or international coverage. This case remains obscure to the public, and the official investigation has not extended to outside of Ireland.

The case received renewed attention in the 2010s. It was the subject of a 2013 documentary, The Last Days of Peter Bergmann, which was shown at the 2014 Sundance Film Festival and has developed a small following on social media websites such as Reddit, where readers have constructed theories of the case.

Physical description

Bergmann had a slender build, short grey hair, and appeared to be in his late 50s or early 60s. He stood five feet and ten and a half inches tall with blue eyes and a tan complexion. From witness reports, the man was of Germanic descent and spoke with a thick German accent. He was neatly groomed; his face was shaven and his hair was clean and combed.

The man was well dressed wearing a black leather jacket, blue trousers, blue socks, a black leather belt and a pair of black shoes. His clothes were from C&A, a popular fashion retail store in Europe with most of its stores in Germany and Austria. From the man's appearance it was assumed he was a professional worker. He was a frequent smoker and several surveillance videos show him smoking outside often.

Timeline of events[

On Friday, 12 June, the unknown man was first spotted at the Ulster Bus Depot in Derry between the time of 14:30 and 16:00. He boarded a bus headed to Sligo Station, carrying a black shoulder bag and a standard carry-on luggage bag. He arrived at 18:28 at the Sligo Bus Station and took a taxi to the Sligo City Hotel where he paid €65 per night in cash. While checking in, he gave the false name of "Peter Bergmann" and listed his address as Ainstettersn 15, 4472, Vienna, Austria.

During his stay at the hotel, the man was seen on security camera footage leaving the building with a purple plastic bag full of items or personal effects. However, when he returned from his long walk he was no longer carrying the bag. It is presumed that he was disposing of his belongings throughout the town of Sligo and then folding the bag and putting it in his pocket. Authorities were unable to identify what he was throwing away in the public rubbish bins as the man used the blind spots of the surveillance cameras to his advantage. His movements were very meticulous and methodical as if he knew where to hide his personal belongings that could have identified him.

On Saturday, 13 June, the man is seen walking to the General Post Office at 10:49 and purchases eight 82-cent stamps and airmail stickers.

On Sunday, 14 June, between 11:00 and 11:30 the man left the Sligo City Hotel and asked a taxi driver recommendations for a nice quiet beach where he could swim. The taxi driver stated that Rosses Point would be the best place and proceeded to drive the unknown man to the beach. The man returned with the same taxi and was dropped off at the bus station in Sligo.

The next day (Monday, 15 June), the man checked out of the hotel at 13:06 and handed in his room key. He left with a black shoulder bag, a purple plastic bag, and a different black luggage bag. He did not have the same black carry-on luggage bag he had when he first arrived in Sligo. He walked to the bus station via Quay Street, Wine Street and stopped at Quayside Shopping Centre and awkwardly waited in the doorway for a number of minutes. At 13:16 he left the Quayside Shopping Centre and walked along Wine Street in the direction of the bus station, still carrying all three bags. At 13:38 he ordered a cappuccino and a ham and cheese toasted sandwich at the bus station. While eating his food, he looked at pieces of paper that he kept in his pocket. After reading the pieces of paper, he tore the paper in half and threw it away in a nearby rubbish bin. He then mounted a bus that departed at 14:20 for Rosses Point. It was reported that he was seen by 16 people while walking on the beach, casually greeting the passersby.

The following morning, Tuesday 16 June, Arthur Kinsella and his son Brian, who was training for a triathlon, found his body lying on the beach at 6:45 in the morning. Arthur and Brian said the Lord's Prayer for the man, and then called the police. At 8:10, Dr Valerie McGowan officially pronounced the man dead. Following the discovery of the man's dead body, a five-month investigation was conducted by the police.

Upon the police investigation following his death, the address he gave belonged to a vacant lot. This implies that the man wanted to remain unknown and he pre-emptively planned his moves so that he could not be identified.

After death

According to the post mortem report, the body of the man was found naked on Rosses Point beach with his clothes scattered along the shore, with no wallet, money or form of identification. The Sligo medical examiner deemed the cause of death to be drowning and found no signs of foul play that would give reason to believe the man's death was a homicide. The man's teeth were in good condition and showed signs of frequent dental work in his life. He had bridging, root canals, crowns and had a full gold tooth on the upper back right side of his mouth and a small silver filling along the gum of a tooth on the left side of the lower jaw.

Despite his well-groomed and dressed exterior, the man was in very poor health. The post mortem showed that he had advanced stages of prostate cancer and bone tumors. His heart showed signs of previous heart attacks and he possessed only one kidney, the other being removed. For a man who had serious health conditions, the toxicology report stated that he had no medication of any sort in his system. The medical examiner stated that, due to his heart attacks and health status, the man would have been in significant pain and required prescription pain medicine or at least over-the-counter pain relievers to manage his pain.

After a five-month investigation the body was buried in Sligo. The funeral was attended by four policemen.

In 2015, the French newspaper Le Monde reported that they had contacted the Austrian police about the case and that the Austrian police commented that the Irish police had never contacted them. Le Monde also reported that there is no Interpol notice for the unidentified man, stating that as the body is recovered he does not fall into the two Interpol categories of 'missing person' or a 'wanted person'. It is up to his country of origin to report him as missing.