Below is a transcript of Mary Beth's eulogy. A transcript of Hannah's eulogy can be found on the "Memories" page.

Hello everyone and welcome. Thank you so much for joining us here today to
honor and celebrate the life of a very special man. For those who don’t know me,
I’m Jim’s daughter Mary Beth and mother to three of those beautiful
granddaughters that most of you probably saw on his zoom background!

I have spent a lot of time over the past months thinking about how to talk about
my dad and what to say. Over these last couple of years, he and I had some long
conversations about his life, and it was then that I learned that he thought of his
life as two phases, very different from each other, the first phase being his early
life and naval career, and the second comprising his spiritual life and work within
his church and faith. But to me, both those phases were tied together by some
very distinctive themes and characteristics that defined Jim Bayne, and I’d like to
talk about those today.

My Aunt Suzie, his sister, told me that they used to call him “Smilin’ Jim”, for
obvious reasons! His high school year book in 1954 reflected this, describing
him as the “man with the quick wit” and “always flashing a smile”. The Naval
Academy yearbook of 1958 said “He was one of the easiest to get along with and
had a quick wit and friendly smile which we’ll not soon forget. He will always be
remembered for a devotion to his classmates and a tremendous sense of
humor”.

Sound familiar? That was our Dad. It was how he was described at the beginning
stages of his life and how we all probably would describe him during the latter
stages. Quick to smile and laugh, good-humored and social. He loved his friends
dearly, and cherished his many friendships. He had his circles of friends in high
school, the Naval Academy and from during active duty, many of whom I never
got to meet or know, but always heard stories about. His friends from Holy Spirit
and Nativity, St. Mary’s and Mt. Tabor churches, from the cursillo and Kairos
communities, and from Greenspring - all have been a major component of his
life. He loved his Monday and Tuesday night Greenspring dinner groups,
especially during these difficult last couple of years. To all of you, I say thank you
again for your love and your friendship.

My Dad was a navy man. Growing up, I thought he was so cool in his white navy
uniform and sometimes, when I was around 9 or 10 years old, I would call him at
the Pentagon just so I could ask for “Commander Bayne”. I didn’t even
understand what being a carrier pilot really meant for a while, and it may not
have been until I was in high school that it actually hit me what he had done for a
living. Flying a plane on and off of a ship in the middle of a heaving ocean. That
still seems crazy to me and the craziest part is that no one would ever describe
Jim Bayne as a swaggering “hot dog” pilot, like his classmate John McCain or
Tom Cruise in Top Gun.

Even so, many of his cruises had been in the north Atlantic and the North Sea,
and he had some harrowing stories to tell. This is why, in January of 2024, I
reached out to the archives of the Intrepid, which was his favorite ship and is now
a museum on New York City’s Hudson River. They have an ongoing special
project to record the stories of those who served on that ship, and I thought my
Dad would enjoy getting to relate his stories for posterity. So this guy from the
Intrepid museum called my dad and talked to him for a while on the phone, and
afterward I asked my Dad about what he had shared. The story from the Intrepid
that my Dad chose to tell was about how it was on the Intrepid that he first
started doing the Music liturgy for the religious services and how that got
started… that was his story. Not anything about missed landing attempts during
stormy North Sea nights, or how his room was sweltering hot because it was too
close to the hydraulic system pipes. No, it was about playing church music. That
was my dad. Doing the music liturgy was what was important to him about that
ship. I’m sure this guy from the intrepid hadn’t gotten a story like that from
anyone else….

But many of my dad’s stories we didn’t hear until much much later in life, mostly
because my mother didn’t like him telling those stories. Not because it upset her
to think of him out there in harrowing conditions, but I think because while he was
out there having this life of adventure, she was at home with two or three small
children, and it just wasn’t an easy time for her. It wasn’t until recently that I got to
hear a lot of his stories and memories, and boy, did he have some stories. Most
of them funny, of course, because those were the ones he liked to tell, but
listening to him tell any of his stories, you’d think he just loved the navy. He would
say he didn’t, but I think in a lot of ways he did. He felt that his work there had
been interesting and meaningful, and he enjoyed being in service and a part of
something bigger. That was my Dad.

But as we were packing up his apartment, I came across letters he wrote to our
mother from his cruises, and I’m realizing just how hard that time was for him as
well. Mostly, it seems it was hard because our mother was so unhappy with him
being away, and it really pained him. His letters to her were so lovely and loving,
and so full of compassion; compassion for what she was going through and for
her struggles. In his letters, he was always trying to bolster her, telling her how
wonderful she was, how strong she was, how they would get through this. He
didn’t really tell stories in his letters, they were focussed on her and on what she
needed.

In fact, compassion is one of the main themes of his life. I often think of his
compassion in relation to his religious work, to his prison work, as being part of
“phase 2” of his life, but I realize now how deeply compassionate he was from
early on, in other aspects of his life. My mother could be very difficult, and she
had many mental health issues throughout her life, but my father’s compassion
for her, as well as his faithful and loving heart, kept him at her side through it all.
And this is closely related to the other word that I use to describe my Dad.
Steadfast. I’ve realized this most clearly in recent years, in looking back over his
life and mine.

When we were growing up, Dad really wasn’t around a lot. He was at sea while
my siblings were little, and even though he was home more when I was a child,
he actually really wasn’t very involved with our lives. He reflected on that often in
his later years, about how he had followed the pattern set by his father, which
was that men didn’t really do much with the children. He had tremendous regret
about that. He had loving parents whom he loved in return, but he wished he
had done things a little differently in his own family and had thought to involve
himself more in our lives. He speculated that maybe that was a part of why he
was so drawn to family retreats, because he was seeking a better family pattern.
When he and my mom started going out to Rappahannock County to look for a
retreat center, I didn’t know what the heck they were talking about. I was eleven,
and far more interested in Charlie’s Angels than family retreats. And to be
honest, I didn’t love being uprooted from where we were. My sister had already
left for college, and my brother was about to, and the prospect of moving away
on top of all that didn’t feel great to me. However, I remember thinking,
“well, I’ll get to be with Dad a lot”. For me, everything always seemed ok when Dad was
around, I always felt like there was something solid under my feet. And it was
something of an adventure for the three of us, one that I sometimes liked and
sometimes didn’t. But I could see how much my Dad loved it. He lit up every
retreat weekend. He seemed to love everything about it, from planning out the
programs to the cooking and preparations, to the praying and laughing and
singing. And he and I played music together, which I did love.

Unfortunately, my mother had a harder time with the pressures of running a
retreat center, and her mental health issues became an obstacle that couldn't
easily be overcome. They had to leave after only a few years, and I think for a
time, it really broke him. Both he and my mother went into a significant time of
crisis, and I watched in bewilderment, unable to fully grasp what was happening
or what to do about it. I knew my Dad was suffering, but he mostly kept it to
himself and tried not to involve me in it too much. I think now, looking back on it,
that his near unflappable calm, the way that his presence always seemed solid
and stable no matter what, is what kept me from totally freaking out during that
time. But it is only recently that I have become aware of just how dark a time it
was for him, of how much pain he was in for several years. They got through it,
though, thanks to the support of friends and their faith communities, but also I
think it was because of who he was fundamentally. It was in his nature to
persevere, to remain, to stay the course. That was my Dad.

Even once my siblings and I had grown, he wasn’t someone who asked a lot of
questions or probed into our lives. We really didn’t spend a lot of quality time
together or have heart-to-heart conversations, not until more recent years. But -
if you reached for him, he was there. When you needed him, he would be there.
He showed up for recitals and plays and events, moving us in and out of colleges
and apartments, no matter what crisis he was going through. He stayed with me
for my last month of pregnancy with my second daughter Hannah because my
husband David had to travel a lot, and I was afraid to be alone during this time
with a toddler. He stayed for the whole month, and he was there in the room
when Hannah was born. He was one of the first to hold her in his arms, and they
have had a special bond ever since (compounded probably by the fact that she
was the only one who came out looking like him!)

Dad didn’t pry into your life at all, but if you wanted to talk and open a
conversation, he was receptive and would listen. His support was quietly behind
the scenes, and really as firm as the earth beneath your feet. So this is why I
think of the word “steadfast” to describe him. He would be there no matter what,
even if you didn’t quite realize it, and was always ready to help.

It was with this same compassion and steadfastness that my dad cared for my
mother through her years of decline from dementia. In her final months in the
memory care unit, my father sat at her side every day, coaxing her to eat, holding
her hand, telling her over and over how much he loved her while he wept for her.
They went through many good times and some very rocky times during their life
together, and he was devoted to her, steadfast in his love and in his commitment
to her.

So, we have “smilin’ Jim” - quick-witted, social, compassionate, steadfast. Friend,
husband, father, and also Grandfather. I’ll take just a quick moment here to
reflect on one of the great loves of his life, his granddaughters. He absolutely
adored each and every one of them. I have some favorite pictures of him playing
Pretty Pretty Princess with my girls, playing guitar for them, having tea parties or
snuggling with them on my sister’s couch. Or any couch! He just loved being a
grandfather and whether he got to see them very often or not, they brought him
tremendous joy in his life.

But of course one of the main defining characteristics of my Dad was his faith. It
is present throughout his life, from his insistence on going to a Catholic high
school despite how far away it was, to his entire post-navy career in the church.
He lived and breathed his faith.

His retreat and faith work - the family and cursillo retreats, leading his small
group from Nativity Timonium, music liturgies and group reunions- this was all
what he truly loved. The social interactions from all of these experiences are
what both energized him and anchored him.

But I would like to especially talk a little about his work with Kairos. This prison
ministry was somewhat life-changing for him. I think he was really looking for a
place where he could feel he was substantially impacting and helping others in
crisis, and Kairos gave him that opportunity in spades. He was so moved by
these men and their stories of sorrow and neglect and abuse, and he completely
engaged himself in trying to help them embark on a faith journey where they
could find comfort and hope. There were several men that he wrote to faithfully
for many years, and he deeply deeply cared about them and their welfare.

But I’m here to tell you, my dad and I had some conflict over this. When he told
me about what some of these men had done, I was horrified, quite frankly. To me,
they were the lowest of the low, and their offenses were so unforgivable. I could
not understand how he could show them such kindness, how he could care for
them so deeply. While I wouldn’t say we argued about it, he definitely knew I had
serious misgivings about what he was doing. And honestly, I still struggle with it.

But this is what really illuminates that central, and maybe most important,
characteristic about Jim Bayne. He actually BELIEVED, and didn’t just claim to
believe, in the core teaching and example of Christ, and he allowed himself to be
challenged by that belief. He acted on it, even when other culturally mandated
belief systems said he didn’t have to act on those beliefs. He didn’t claim
righteousness just because he went to church. He didn’t put his political party’s
beliefs first, or let his political party’s beliefs take the place of what he knew he
was supposed to believe in; he challenged himself to think about and follow the
teachings of Christ. That is why he believed that we are to care about the poor
and those that are struggling, no matter what mistakes they have made. He saw
and acknowledged his own fallibility and so had compassion for the imperfections
of others. On top of that, he recognized how fortunate he had been in his life, the
love and opportunities that were given to him and that set him on a better path.
He was strongly aware that many others stumble and fall because they were not
so fortunate to be born on solid ground and find their balance, and of how wrong
it is to blithely think that others should just “do better”. That is why he could not
believe that it was ever ok to put human beings into inhumane detention centers,
treat them as less than human and sneer at them and deride them, even if they
had broken rules and even if your political party held it up as ok. That just simply
doesn’t align with the mandates of Christ and he believed in the words of Christ,
steadfastly, and I emphasize it again, he allowed himself to be challenged by
those words and not shrug them off.

The bible readings here today were chosen because they all contain the
mandates by which he lived his life. Many in our country no longer believe in
these tenets, in recognizing the humanity in others. Empathy has become a bad
word in our government and culture. But that is not what Christ taught nor what
he exemplified. Christ taught, above all, empathy and compassion. It was at the
core of everything:
Welcome the stranger.
Visit the prisoner.
Love your enemy.
Whatever is asked of you, give it.
Forgive and have compassion.
Turn the other cheek.

Jim Bayne believed these things down to his marrow.

Smilin’ Jim wasn’t free from faults, he had lots. He made many mistakes through
life, and as his kids we could tell you all about them. He wasn’t free from doubts.
He frequently in his lifetime had crises of faith. He questioned often, and
especially in the latter part of his life he was very interested in other faiths and
belief systems, and he seemed to find evidence of God in all of them. He had
curiosity about the way other people see the world and about how they structured
their beliefs, and he never condemned them for not believing in the same things
as him. Even if he pushed back and tried to talk you into his beliefs, he never
held it against you or sat in judgement of you for believing differently. But the one
thing he never appeared to doubt at all for even a second was this basic tenet of
Christ’s teachings - love one another. He embraced it throughout his life.

While my Dad was here, he sought to improve the world that he found himself in,
to bring comfort and hope and light, and not ever allow himself to hop on a
bandwagon of fear and hate and condemnation. He didn’t wish to close his eyes
and just turn his head away from seeing the suffering of others. He really did just
try to be a better person, to be more than what he was, and not just sit and judge
and be angry, and do nothing to help. And that is a remarkable thing.
That was our Dad. I’m so proud I got to be his daughter.
Thank you.