Francis Robert Bates
June 1st, 1928 - March 23rd 2002

We are gathered here today to mourn of my father, Frank Bates, who died on Saturday, March 23th 2002. At 9:17 on that day, our lives changed forever when my father drew his last breath. But for 73 years prior to that moment, my father lived, and though we mourn for ourselves, that we will never see him again on this earth- I would like you to join with me now in celebration of those 73 years of my father's life.

My father was born in Cleveland, Ohio on June 1st, 1928. When my father was born, there was no television, and radio shows like The Shadow and Outer Limits were broadcast. He grew up using his imagination to fill in the pictures that children have delivered to them today. When he was a young boy, in the thirties, America suffered a great depression. When we, as children, asked my father about this period in his life, he only had this to say: "We always had plenty of meat on our table- but there was a strange absence of cats in our neigborhood at that time." He laughed when he said it, so we were almost sure he meant it as a joke.. but still, that little bit of doubt crept in- which was facinating enough of a posibility that we asked, again and again, "Daddy, why weren't there any cats in your area when you were growing up?" He'd just answer that nobody knew for sure, but there was always plenty of meat. Tastes just like chicken.

My father had a younger sister named Sally who he would take everywhere with him. He was a great big brother to her. His family and friends called him 'Bud', a nickname that Sally still used for him, even in his later years. When Bud was a teenager, the world was at war. Things that we take for granted now were in short supply, and had to be rationed. When he was 17, my father lied about his age and joined the Navy, to serve his country and see the world.

While in the Navy, he was witness to history. He met Admiral Halsey in passing, and was in the South Pasific on an island named Bikini when they did the atomic bomb tests. One of the stories my father would tell was how the sailors were allowed to take souvenirs from the Japanese battleship Nagato, before it was to be used in the testing. He took a little plaque from a wall with Japanese writing on it, and kept it all his life. He used to show it to us, and tell the story, and conclude with "It could say 'Men's Bathroom' for all I know." When they tested the bomb on that ship, each sailor was given a dark pair of glasses, and instructed not to look directly at the blast.

Another thing my father did while in the Navy was meet my mother. He was a sailor coming into the port of Philadelphia, and my mother was a clerk at a retail store at the time. He saw her walking down the street, and did the typical male wolf whistle, and made a comment about her to his friend. My mother turned around and asked him "What did you say about me?" He (most likely changed the comment) to "I was wondering if you'd have a drink with me." She did- and they dated for a year before getting married. Grandma and Grandpa on my mother's side weren't too happy with dad at first- he was a sailor and not Italian, after all- and Grandpa even threw him out of the house when they first met. But soon enough, they welcomed him into the family. Mom and Dad lived in Philly for a while, along with most of the rest of the family at that time.

My father remained in the Navy a while, once being stationed in Pomona, and doing such things as guarding the coast and making parichutes. When his time in the Navy was up, he became a Boilermaker, a career he would have up until his retirement. In 1954, my father and mother had their first child, Ronald Richard Bates. Ron would only enjoy only child status briefly, because in 1955, Joseph Stephen Bates was born. The growing family needed a new home, so in 1958, they moved to a small town in South Jersey called Collings Lakes. On the same day the Bates family was moving in to 102 Cloverdale lane, the Gramm family was moving in next door. They became good friends with many of their neighbors. My father lived with his family at 102 Cloverdale lane from that first day in 1958, till the day he died.

During the sixties when Ron and Joe were growing up, the family had such niceties as television and a usually working car. My father was active in the community and with his friends, helping with the ambulence association and with an amature race car. When my brother Joe was in Little Legue, Dad was fed up with how the coach was coaching them. The coach quit, and dad took over the team. His love of the National Passtime was lifelong, and he must have really enjoyed coaching.

In 1970, Laura Ann Bates was born. That's me. During those early seventies, mom had big hair, dad had long Elvis looking sideburns, and Ron had a ridiculously pinkish-purple leisure suit. Dad took us to places like Dutch Wonderland when I was very small. Once, he took us to see the lights of Bethlem at Christmas time. We stood on a big hill beside the car, and I was a little scared until I held his hand, then I felt safe, and looked down at all the lights, breathing in the cold winter air. For Easter, he would bring home chocolates for me in addition to my basket - one year, he brought a blue chocolate pond with a yellow chocolate duck swimming on it. I still think that was the most beautiful candy I've ever seen. It was tasty, too. I had meant to save it forever because it was so pretty- but within a day, little nibbles started to happen. Chocolate is still chocolate, no matter how pretty.

Some of his favorite activities during my young childhood were fishing, going to his Moose club, and being part of a bowling league along with my mother. Every year, my mother, father and I took a family vacation. Because of Dad, I was able to experience such wonders of the world as Luray Caverns, Hawaii, and Prince Edward Island in Canada. Of course, there were also some family vactions that I didn't quite like. I had such a miserable time at Disney World, I faked being sick so we could go home early. I always thought Dad kind of knew I was faking it, but he took us home, none the less.

Jolene Jeanette Bates was born in 1976, my father's first grandchild. He loved Jolene very much, and she was often over our house in the 1980's. When grandpa was cranky, she and I made up a song about it and sang it whenever he got overly grumpy. He used to take it all in stride, and even go from being cranky to laughing at the song, sometimes. Of course, other times, he sent us to our room. Parent's perogitive.

When I had a Science Fair for school, dad brought the problem to work with him and had an electrition on his job make a working model of a circuit for me. I got an A, and kept it for many years after that. When I had to do a report on a profession, I chose welding, because my dad was a welder. He helped me draw diagrams of how welding worked, and I understood his job a bit better in the process.

When I was in school, he came to all my plays and school events. He drove me without complaining to a plethora of contests, shows, and activities. During the summers, we'd switched from family vacations, to camping down the shore. My dad would take us to the boardwalk for carmel corn and funnel cakes, rides and skee-ball. When Jolene had a funnel cake stolen by a vicsious seagull, Dad commented that at least it hadn't left any presents on her. That had happened to him more than once.

When Dad retired from working, his favorite place in the house became the couch. He would enjoy his favorite shows from there - Jerry Springer (before they stopped all the good violence), documentaries on the History Channel, ballgames, and the daily news. Dad also read two or three newspapers a day. During part of his working years, and particularly after retirement, he had the time on his hands to concoct fabulous get rich quick dreams. Some of the more memorable ones included buying a monkey to become organ grinders and children's party entertainers, running a lunch wagon (even though he couldn't' really cook!), having his own welding business, being a hot dog vendor, and selling things at the flea market.

Dad really loved flea marketing and was always on the hunt for a good bargin. He seemed to have a knack for finding free things that had been abandoned in a still serviceable state, too. He furnished my entire mobile home once for under twenty dollars. Our home now is filled with things that he aquired in his flea marketing days, including the television that my son is using.

My three children- Brenda, Jeanette, and Steven - loved their pop-pop very much. From the time they were born in the early '90's, Pop-Pop spoiled them. He took them to Burger King every week, and bought them clothes, toys, and interesting things from his flea marketing. When I was having problems in my life and had to straighten things out, the grand kids lived with Mom Mom and Pop Pop. He took very good care of all of them. After I remarried and was over my issues, my husband and I moved in with my parents and the kids. Dad had two rooms built onto the house to make room for us- the first new addition since he had remodled the house himself in my youth.

Though we had some adjusting to do to all live together, we fell into a comfortable routine. My parents went out to lunch together every day- something they both enjoyed immensely. On Saturdays, they took the kids to Burger King. On Sundays, Ron, Joe, and Jolene would come over and we'd all have family dinner and games together. My dad used to enjoy playing Pinochole in the summer, out on the deck, on Sunday.
This past summer, my father took a trip to see his sister, Sally in Florida. He had such a great time there- and took particular pride in the fact that Sally and Mike's dogs, Baby and Buddy, would come to him for food and pets before they came to anyone else. Pictures my Aunt Sally took and sent to us, show my father smiling and looking years younger and very happy. I'm glad he had that time.

In November, however, we found out Dad had cancer. Though he had been sick many times before in his life and always survived it, this time, the doctors told us, he wouldn't' make it through. To prepare for the death of the patriarch of our family, who we all loved and had spent so much time with is the hardest thing we've ever had to do as a family. Up until two weeks ago, my father was still doing some of the things he loved- going out to eat, spending time with his grandchildren, enjoying Sundays. But then, he started to decline in health. Last Monday, when we went to the doctor, he had a hard struggle getting in the car. They referred us to hospice care.

Hospice came out to the house, and provided my father with a comfortable bed, nurses, and a wonderful home health aide. He got the opportunity to die with dignity, in the house he had worked for and bought, surrounded by the people who loved and cared for him. Once, a few days before he died, he told my brother Joe that he was scared to die. But up until two days before he died, he visited with friends, he spent as much time as he was able to with us? he still looked out for his family, to the very last.

I know that right now, he is with us still. He is in the hearts of each person that remembers him, and who's life has been touched by him. He is in the eyes of his grandchildren, and he is at 102 Cloverdale lane, and his legacy will carry on forever. I thank you all for coming here today and being here with us. I would also like to invite anyone who has a memory of my father that they would like to share to come up and do so, that we might celebrate the life of Francis Robert Bates, and the profound impact he has had on each of us.




Flowers ripen, perfumed sweet,
Walk upon my bloodstained feet,
Crush the petals, sadness rise,
Drape darkness over my eyes.

Dying in spring to mock rebirth,
Dust to dust, entombed in earth.
Flowers bloom, too soon to die.
No time to mourn, no time to cy.

For all we lose, is still to gain,
A respite from life's deep pain.
Words unspoken, yet may stay,
As windblown petals kept in May.

Left in the garden, here we weep,
When death recalls its final sleep.
But peaceful he lies, as in repose,
Sunk and shriveled, the wilted rose.


I miss you, Daddy...