(not a blackberry foto.) I would like to pay tribute to the passing of my father, Frank P. Bayer, Jr. of Batavia, Ohio. This photo, taken by my step-grandfather Pingree (Ping) Binkley, of Batavia, Ohio was taken in approximately 1949 as Frank was building his own home for his family. The image serves as a metaphor for a significant portion of Frank's constitution. He liked to build things, once describing himself as "Big hammer, long nails." Not one for glamorous things; more important were plumb, level, square, and tight. Frank was not a block layer; rather, we was a multidisciplary carpenter who posessed a wide variety of skills. As a boy, I was often called upon to assist in digging dirt for various purposes, carpentry, plumbing, electrical duties, plumbing, roofing, and more. Yet, when times called for it, he could be called upon to do delicate things also: beautifully remanufacturing a small horse's leg on an antique mom bought or building cases for his childrens' science fair projects. A close look at the photo reveals a Pontiac dealership logo on his shirt: yes, Frank tended to work one job and then come home and work his own projects. He was often banged up in one way or other (a band aid is above his eye) yet he never complained - it was just part of the job. Frank, among some other duties, drove a gasoline truck through France, Holland, and Germany in WWII. His travels are documented in the book "180 Days XIII Corps" under the command of Major General Gillem. The rare publication highlights the command's progress from the Seigfried Line to Elbe. In basic training, he was prepared for the heat of desert warfare but, as luck would have it, Frank was sent to England to follow up in the cold, northern climates after the invasion of Normandy. I couldn't get dad to speak of many details of the war. He soberly said "I saw a lot of damage." He witnessed American Guards overseeing Nazi's forced to bury the dead at one of the first concentration camps discovered. He has an original photograph of Polish prisoners' arms, heads, and shoulders sticking out from under barn wood, attempting to crawl out from under a barn that Nazis had set on fire. He had a V1 or V2 rocket crash very near him and blow up a school. Frank shook hands with conquering Russian troops. After the war, dad and my mother found each other, married, and successfully went about working on what is often called "the American dream." Over the years, Frank was a very good father and, after a prolonged series of illnesses, is now resting in peace.
