James G. Bauer
September 15, 1952 - May 19, 2016

"Hey what can I say we sure had a lot of fun, my boys and Geraldine will sure miss you"

"Jim was a good friend while I was DON at Katy Manor several years ago. I remember Jim helping me take two residents fishing at my family's pond. One of the resident's latched onto a very large catfish which required Jim to grab the resident and pole. We were all laughing at that scene. I would share about my love of travel while Jim was always telling me how He just wanted to get there. His "there" is really something to see now, I'm sure. He was a great co worker. Sincerely Lonnie DeVorss "

"Hey Jim thanks for all the help over the years, no one will ever know how much you helped people - including me! Remember the time we were caught in the snow storm and you froze your face - wow! And don't forget the time we built kevin's garage or my garage! Like I said no one will ever know - your buddy Scott Stenzel "

"i will never forget Jim, he guided me so much when I was MDS Coordinator at Katy Manor. His Love and devotion for his daughters was never ending. He will never be able to be replaced. RIP you will always be missed by so many my friend. Thank You for the gift of knowing you"

"So sorry to hear of Jim's passing. He will be missed."

"So sorry to hear about Jim's passing. When I worked at Katy Manor, he was a wealth of information for me about the paperwork required to document activities. He enjoyed talking about his daughters and was so proud of them. He will most definitely be missed. "

" If I thought you were somewhere that you could still read this, I would say this is the part that pisses me off, the part about not getting to say "goodbye", the third one now in ten weeks: people whose lives touched mine, all gone in their early sixties, before most saw it coming, before there was a chance to do any kind of accounting. For a minute, I thought I might get the chance this time. Jackie had alerted Dan Freking that you were in the hospice in Mason City. I thought about what I might say, trying to catch up on thirty years worth in five minutes. I thought I might try to keep it light by saying Eva Haislett was coming. I never knew too much about your home life growing up, only that you had a Davy Crockett fort in your back yard, so clearly somebody was doing something right. It wasn't too long before we abandoned the fort for our record players. We shared a mutual appreciation of the Stones. You convinced me that The Monkees were better than I gave them credit for. This morning I remembered that there was one song in particular that we both loved. Something to do with a color: blue? grey? "Blue Turns to Grey"? No, that was the Stones. On Youtube I typed in "monkees grey", and there it was, "Shades of Grey". That's the one! As I listened, the tears rolled down my cheeks. What a pair of teenagers, loving a song in which the singer laments his life's passing. It's too perfect. If I were picking songs for a Jim Bauer memorial service, that would have to be of them. Inspired, I played another, Elvis Costello's "Less Than Zero", not unlike your own philosophy of "zero point shit", which you championed a decade before Elvis' song. Besides music, we shared an affinity for cruising to neighboring towns in pursuit of female companionship, an activity that a twenty-year-old car can help facilitate, a conversation starter if nothing else. And beverages. I'm pretty sure there were beverages. The last time I saw you was the day we had a going-away party for you at Minnehaha Park in Minneapolis. Leaving the party, I extended my arm as if to shake your hand, which you looked at scornfully and said, "That's not gonna do", as you pulled me in for a hug. As I walked to the car, I thought about how honored I was by that. You had always cultivated an image as a manly sort of man. Maybe no cultivation was required. Either way, that hug was an extraordinary honor, at least in our circle thirty years ago. On the news, I always hear people talking about trying to take away something good from someone's passing. In this case, it would be that I should resolve to be in touch with people I care about more often than once every thirty years. I disdain Mark Zuckerburg and his damned Facebook, but maybe that is a way to go. There's still snail mail, so that's no excuse. My brother points out that you can burn up a lot of fossil fuels cruising to see old friends, but that was always my preferred way. Never made it down to your place. But if I had, I would have said thank you for all the good moments we had together. Bill Bickner "

"So sorry to hear this, my condolences and prayers go out to the family. It had been many years since I had seen the family, we did have some very fond memories out on Hwy N."

"Silly as it may be... I will always remember how we shared an appreciation for the TV show, Carnivale. I think we were the only two people on the planet that ever watched it. Though we had only a handfull of conversations... our Carnivale Connection will remain one of my fonder Bauer Family memories. "