This memorial website was created in memory of our dad, Ned Bayley, 96, born on December 29, 1918 and passed away on May 2, 2015.
I Miss You
(a poem by Ned Bayley to Joyce, his late wife who died in 1997)
It's been three years now.
I'm living in a new century;
and I miss you.
I walk through beautiful gardens
and I miss you.
I tend the vegetable garden,
the garden we had planned together,
and I miss you.
I attend meetings;
I preside at a meeting,
a meeting of friends,
and I miss you.
I perform before audiences.
The audiences laugh,
and I miss you.
You and I had fitted our lives together
the way an expensive leather glove
fits the differences of each finger,
the knuckles and small bones
In the back of the hand,
the curve of the palm,
the special joint in the thumb,
and the intricate bones of the wrist.
Those last several lines
made me realize
our lives had been so fully intertwined
that, even with your death ,
you remain,
along with the love from our children
and their children,
a treasured, inseparable part of me.
Tributes
Leave a tributeMy friend when my advancing years gave opportunity to gain wisdom beyond knowledge. I shared precious minutes at the fence doing my best to express thanks for Ned's incredible generosity from his garden. He loved and respected the life all around him - his neighbors and their shared fortunes and misfortunes; even the life of his property from when his family moved to Colesville and changed a small acreage to the most incredible garden of vegetables, fruits, plants, flowers and fish in the dam built on the stream passing through. I don't believe he ever saw a day without promise of someway to make life better. Me? I love every spring, because his flowers bloom in my front yard with more splendor each year and I hope to show more of the seeds of his wisdom in me. I will never forget Ned Bayley.
Leave a Tribute
My Dad - Just Say Hello
I grew up on a small farm located a ways off a dead end public road. Whenever the rare car would drive by my father would wave. At a young age I asked why he waved when it was hard to see the car. “I don’t want to look stuck up,” he replied. “After all what did it cost me?”
Many years later his career landed him in the huge USDA building in Washington, DC. He was one of the big wigs in the agency. When I would visit and we would walk the hallways he always said “Hello” to everyone we passed. He never felt himself above anyone.
From these lessons I always say “Hello.” It is important to let folks know they are part of our communities. “Hello” tells folks I recognize their importance. Just say Hello.
My Dad - Good Old Days
The Good Old Days are a function of poor memory. Today is always better than yesterday. These were my Dad’s lessons.
Dad was born in 1918. He has witnessed a lot of change and progress. When the concern about the environment emerged in the 60’s he expressed optimism about our future. It would take work but we can fix it. He pointed out that we had similar challenges in the past and we overcame them.
Our world was not simpler when he was growing up. They were different. It was a slower pace but more difficult. His parents complained about how fast things were changing when he was young. He marveled at how quickly the world was moving as I grew up.
Society is not degrading. We are making positive changes. We have challenges and always will have challenges. He never imagined in his lifetime that we would have a black President and someone would walk on the moon. Families are stronger now. In his generation children were simply more working hands.
If we think things are bad now we need to reach beyond our current generation for a better perspective. We become so focused on our current times we forget the lessons we can learn from past generations.
He loved the beauty of our current time. He taught me to appreciate what I have and to move forward into the bright future.
My Dad - Cigarettes
My Dad was so proud of the work he did. He loved science, research, and making organizations work well. As a result he made a difference.
His tenure was with the US Department of Agriculture. He worked in the Beltsville Research Station and in Washington, DC. He cared not for titles but for what he could accomplish on the job. He finished his career as an Acting Assistant Secretary of Agriculture. He retired on his own terms.
Dad was responsible for moving regulation of pesticides from the USDA to the EPA. He appeared briefly on CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite.
His name appeared in the Random House Dictionary for years as a contributor. I found it fun to go into a library and hunt his name.
I could find his name appearing in the Nixon White House tapes.
His proudest achievement was enabling the warning label on the side of cigarette packs. He joined the Downtown DC folks of the USDA just as the Surgeon General’s study on cancer from cigarettes was released. Never before had there been such a public release of information about the dangers of cigarettes. The USDA was on a committee studying this report and what to do with it. The group was recommending to place a Surgeon General’s warning on the packaging. One of Dad’s first assignments was this committee with their work in progress. He studied the report, returned to the committee, and voted in favor of the label.
Returning to his office the Secretary of Agriculture called for him. Apparently the USDA vote had been the one vote that blocked warning label. The Secretary explained there is a lot of tobacco being grown with strong political ties. Dad explained what he found in the research. “Couldn’t you just not vote?” the Secretary asked. So Dad changed his Yes to an abstention removing the bock and the label was approved.
For Dad it was never about the politics of doing what someone else said. It was never about the size of the office. It was never about the reserved parking place. It was about doing the right thing.