Yesterday was the anniversary of my father's passing. I miss him so very much. He was my rock. As the youngest daughter, I was always daddy's little girl. I was born when he was 42 years old and my siblings were grown and off to their own lives, so I had a special relationship with my dad. Today, I thought I'd honor him with a post about his life.
Francis "Frank" John James Sr. was born 04 Oct 1926, in Wooster, Wayne, Ohio to Virgil Ray James and Jessie Virginia (Shelly) James. He was the third child of 8 (though the first child was stillborn, so he was always considered the 2nd child). His entire childhood and young adult life was spent on the family farms.
Times were tight in the depression, and for years, every morning he'd get up before dawn and run through the woods checking his trap lines. Most of the time, his catches were put on the table for the family dinner (including squirrel, rabbit and possum (though he said he didn't actually eat the possum - but my grandma cooked it up and served it!) He helped with the animals, worked in the fields, chopped trees down and into fire wood (he said he enjoyed it) and in his spare time searched the freshly plowed fields for arrowheads.
His father wanted him to do what those who came before him had done, be a farmer. He knew he wouldn't be happy and wanted to leave the farm and small town Ohio to join the US Navy during WWII. Since his parents wouldn't give their permission, he made a plan. He finished his senior year of high school in under 2 months, and on his 18th birthday, he left a note on the kitchen table telling them he'd left to go sign up. Upon arriving, the recruiter told him he'd have to be drafted. Undeterred, he went down to the draft board and asked them to draft him in (they did), for the duration of the war. He joined not because he had to, but because he believed it was the right thing to do.
During basic training, he said you could always tell the boys who came from the farms. They were the ones who could complete the physical training courses with ease because they were used to doing much harder work on the farm. He was a "radio man". It really had nothing to do with the radio, though he did learn and enjoyed morse code. His main "job" was riding in dive bombers, keeping his pilot on task, making sure they stayed at safe altitude and watching for anything the pilot might need to be alerted to. He always said the most important thing was trusting your pilot. The dive bombers had canopies, but he said they usually flew with them open because they were prone to getting stuck and they wanted to be able to eject if the need arose (thankfully it didn't).
Though he was never deployed to battle (he remained stateside, stationed in Florida) he had many fun stories and memories he recounted often to anyone who was interested. He always started with "Did I ever tell you about....?" From the time they snuck a goat onto the 2nd floor of their barracks (much to the chagrin and annoyance of their commanding officer), to the time he split his uniform pants clean open doing "crack the whip" in a roller skating rink, and the time he had to repeatedly tell his pilot to "pull up...pull up!!!" because he was so focused on task, or the time he broke into another base to visit his cousin (Harold Shelly) stationed nearby (sneaking in by falling in line and marching into the mess hall, enjoying a nice dinner, and marching right back out without getting caught) - it was clear his time in the service was a very special and memorable part of his life. He said they all knew they were in for the duration, and there was a real chance they might not make it out alive, so they enjoyed a little harmless fun when they could.
One of his adventures I was always interested to hear about was his involvement with Flight 19, the planes lost in the Bermuda Triangle. He needed some flight hours, so he volunteered to ride along on some of the search flights. He was always interested in what happened, and had his own thoughts about the fate of the planes. Right up until he passed away, he'd read any new book published on the mysterious disappearance.
He never thought of his service as being anything special, and he was very modest about it. It turned out to be a springboard to a fascinating life of travel and adventure. He said joining up was the best decision he could have made for his life.
.jpg)
During his time in the service, he met my mother in Jacksonville, Florida where he was stationed. They were married in 1947 and were together for 68 years! During the last years of my mom's life, he went to visit her every single day in the nursing home. He never missed a day, not even when he was tired or the weather was bad. They truly were amazing role models in my life.
After the Navy, he enrolled in what was then Tri-State University in Angola, Indiana (now called Trine University). He studied electrical engineering. He worked several jobs, including being a milkman and a radio/TV repair man to put himself through school and support the growing family (by then they already had 2 children). After college he joined Westinghouse as an engineer and had a 40 year career with the defense contractor.
His job afforded him the opportunity to travel the world. I'm fortunate to have several of his old passports with stamps from around the globe. He'd regale us with stories from his travels. It was nothing for him to be in a foreign country and need to figure out how to get back home. Once, in Vietnam (where he arrived on an aircraft carrier but didn't have official stamps to be in country) he went to the consulate and ended up on an Air America flight with the CIA. I wish I'd recorded some of his stories. I recall bits and pieces of many of them, but not in enough detail to share with the humor he interjected. He always had a smile on his face when he spoke of his travels.
He retired from Westinghouse but continued to serve his community. He worked with Volunteers for Medical Engineering (VME) for many years. He designed and built items for people with disabilities when either the item they needed wasn't available or was too expensive for them. Once he revamped one of those child size battery powered cars to be remote controlled so a child who was born with no arms could experience "driving" the car (while his teacher was guiding it remotely). He was a devout Christian and was involved in his church right up until his death.
He very much enjoyed woodworking and I'm so thankful I have many examples of his creations in my home. He also enjoyed being out in nature. Some of my fondest memories are of hiking and fishing with my dad. When I was a teenager, we took 3 driving trips cross country (just me and him in a 2 door Honda Civic hatchback with no air conditioning). I'm so lucky he gave me the opportunity to see so much of the country. Even now, people will ask me why I don't travel more or go places....and the answer is simple. My father already took me to all the places I could ever want to see! He was a loving grandfather to my son, and gave him many of he same experiences he shared with me.
My father lived to be 96 years old. He was still living independently and driving himself around two-weeks before his passing. For the last year of his life, he battled 3 kinds of cancer (one was extremely rare and there was really no viable treatment). But he never complained and he never wanted to burden anyone. I can truly say, being his caregiver in his last years was something I'm thankful for. I was able to spend time with him, talk with him, and make sure he knew just how important he was in my life. He remained at home right up until the day he passed. They took him to hospice mid-day and he was gone by the evening. He died on 07 Nov 2022 in Towson, Baltimore, Maryland.
For his funeral, I wrote the following:
My dad was a wonderful and dedicated father, grandfather, husband, brother, uncle and friend - who selflessly put others ahead of himself. He volunteered to serve in WWII because it was quite simply, what he felt was the right thing to do. That one choice was the catalyst to a life full of travel and adventure most people can only dream of. He was a genuinely kind and caring person with a witty sense of humor, always ready to captivate with stories of his life. The impact he made on those he cared for was immense. His life, and inspiration to those who were fortunate enough to know him. He will never be forgotten and will live on in the hears of all he touched.
Even with all these words, I haven't begun to scratch the surface of what an amazing man my father was. I can't remember enough to share all his stories, and if I could, they'd fill books not blog posts. In his life he saw and experienced so much. He lived his life to the fullest and it was definitely a life well lived. I will miss him forever, but he lives on through the values he instilled in his family and the memories of everyone who met him.
.jpg)
