Barry Baker died May 4, 2021

Barry L. Baker, Sr. was born on December 21, 1941 to his birth mother, Connie Jane Kimbro. She gave him up for adoption and he was adopted by his parents, Catherine and Harvey Baker. He grew up as an only child in Oklahoma City and he was an ornery child at that. There’s no doubt that my brother and father were made from the same ornery cloth.

My dad graduated from the Oklahoma Military Academy where he played saxophone in the band. He even got to play with Louie Armstrong once. Before going on to OSU, my dad initially tried his hand at seminary where he was expelled for letting a pig wearing lipstick loose in the women’s dorm before a social. He then went on to Oklahoma State University where he graduated with a degree in Hotel and Restaurant Administration. He managed various restaurants throughout his career, including Crystal’s Pizza, Casa Bonita, El Chico, and Taco Bueno. For those of you that don’t know, Taco Bueno is a favorite in the Baker household. If there’s a Bueno nearby you can bet that we can sniff it out. The restaurant business is where my dad made many lifelong friends. He never knew a stranger, that’s for sure. He would eventually tire of the long hours in the restaurant world and decided on a career change as he approached 50, becoming a Registered Nurse. He was great at this job because he enjoyed people. It was also around this time that, inspired by an episode of Oprah, he decided to find his birth parents. He eventually located his birth mother and found out that he was her only child as well. It wasn’t until last summer that we found out who his birth father was.

My mom and dad met in 1972 and married in 1975 and would go on to have their four children. My parents were eventually blessed with two granddaughters, Arianne (16) and Gabby (14) and one grandson, Logan (10). It’s evident that my parents enjoy being grandparents as they have spoiled our kids and are far more giving with them than they were with us. We were always told no as children growing up, but they have a very different mantra with their grandkids. It was not uncommon for my dad to say, “Take my card and get the kids a slushie at Quick Trip.” Or, “Just use my card” whenever the kids would ask for anything. He doted on them. He would always shop for the girls when they were little at the hospital gift shop where he would come home with the most random things, but he thought the kids would like it. A few days before my dad died, we brought him home from hospice. The window to his room looked out on the backyard and he laid there smiling watching the three grandkids in the backyard playing together.

My dad was quite the character. He was notorious for talking politics, which he particularly enjoyed engaging in with my husband, Carlos. His sense of humor was inappropriate a majority of the time and he had suspenders for all occasions. You could buy my dad twenty new shirts for Christmas and he would still only wear one or two white ones that were constantly dirty with stains or spilled food. It bothered us more than him. He tended to wear short shorts with dress socks to his knees, fancy loafers and white shirts with holes generally in them when he would pick us up from middle school. And we can’t forget the 1978 brown Nova that he drove. Absolutely horrifying for teenagers. My dad was the kind of guy that didn’t care about material things and his motto was, “hey, it has four wheels and gets me from point A to point B.” If he found a hair in his food he would say, “Hey, it’s just extra protein” and continue eating. My dad could eat food that was just all piled together in one clump; no separate spots for your meat or your salad or your peas. . When I gave him my opinion of such a practice, his response was “It all comes out looking the same Amanda.” He enjoyed watching infomercials late at night and had a tendency to purchase those items. In fact, there are stacks in the closet of all the useless things he bought. My dad was obsessed with Sonic drinks and would send Meredith to buy 3-4 route 44 diet cherry limeades every single day. He loved to watch OSU play football and was generally disappointed during the Bedlam Battle game when OU would win. I should point out that my mom, sisters and I are all OU fans so we were a house divided. The Bedlam Battle game usually ended with my dad stomping off without admitting defeat.

We knew back in December that my dad’s heart was failing. On Christmas Day this past year, he knew it would be his last. He gifted my son with his watch, his name bracelet that his parents gave him for his 14^th birthday and his high school class ring to carry on as his only grandson. That was a tough day for sure, but we enjoyed it as much as we could. We had no idea what awaited us just a few weeks later. My dad required heart surgery just a few days after my brother died. We knew it was risky, but it was the only option or he would die within a few days. Right before he went back to surgery he told me, “I don’t want to die, but if I do that’s okay. At least I’ll be with your brother. I don’t want to leave you girls but if it’s my time it’s my time.” I’m grateful that God had mercy upon us and gave us a little more time with him. Two losses within days may have been more than we would handle. By the end of April, his body was so weak and beat down that he decided to come home from the hospital on hospice, primarily so he could be near his cat, Tricia, whom he claimed as his own after my aunt Kathleen passed away in 2017.  He had two requests when he came home: that Tricia the cat was present and that there had to be a giant calendar on the wall filled with everyone’s schedule so he could see that we were still going to go on with our lives. The night before he came home, Biden was giving a speech. He told us he wished he would die before Biden made that speech and that when he got to heaven he was going to ask BJ for $5. His sense of humor was there until the end. He passed away peacefully at home with Tricia and his family on May 4, 2021.

Both my dad and brother are survived by our mother, Cheryl Baker; Holly Soho and her daughter Gabrielle; Amanda Pales and her husband Carlos and their children Arianne and Logan; and Meredith Baker. And we can’t forget Tricia the cat.

Through all of this I have seen God’s hand moving, even before we knew what was to come. God knew my mom and dad would need three daughters that day. One to help our mother (Meredith), one to arrange to bring our brother’s body back (Holly) and one to be with my dad throughout his hospital stay (myself). God knew that we would need an extensive support system in place to support and pray for us. God knew all of this and I’m so grateful because we could not make it through this season alone.

To our mother, we love you. You are loved and cherished by many. We will always do what we can to help and protect you. You have shown such immense grace and resiliency through all of this and I know that God will continue to sustain you through this. Dad and BJ would not want you or us to mourn forever. They would want us to make new memories, laugh and live. And we will continue to do that, together. Going forward I encourage everyone to not take a single moment for granted and to laugh often.