Jim Bauschke

To know Jim Bauschke was to be drawn into a world where kindness ruled, curiosity thrived, and time itself took a backseat to wonder. He was a man of handwritten notes and handwritten lives—carefully, lovingly inscribed with compassion, wit, and purpose. Curious, genuine, and the absolute most caring guy you'd ever meet, Jim approached life as an adventure best enjoyed slowly, with good chocolate, a fine pen, and a kind word. Whether you called him Dad, Grandpa, Husband, Friend, or Awesome Uncle Jim, one thing was certain: your life was better with him in it.

Jim's story began on April 22, 1945, in South Haven, Michigan, just as the world exhaled the final gasps of World War II and embraced the hope of peace. It was a time when music floated from radios and communities leaned into optimism. Fittingly, Jim was born into a home where melody and love was abundant. His father, Alfred, a postal carrier with an ear for organ and piano music, and his mother, Adena, a gifted and crafty homemaker, raised Jim in the rhythm of music, family, and simple joys.

Jim was the middle child between sisters Betty and Joanne. He would tease Joanne unmercifully, but did so with the affection and charm that became a lifelong trademark. Summers meant trips to his grandfather's farm, where the days were sunny and the plumbing was non-existent. Rather than brave the outhouse in winter, young Jim preferred to "improvise" off the porch. Those rustic summers were formative, steeped in hard work and a reverence for nature. Jim's love for music blossomed there too; he played piano and trombone, but the cello was his favorite. Eventually, Jim studied at the prestigious Interlochen Academy, a place he'd revisit throughout his life with deep affection.

Jim graduated from South Haven High School in 1963. He sang with the State Honors Choir, and performed with school orchestras even after graduation. His musical talents won him scholarships and accolades, performing later at Western Michigan University, where he sang in the Grand Chorus and played cello in the orchestra.

During a summer job in the South Haven Hospital ER, Jim's natural empathy became evident. So trusted was he by the staff that he was invited into surgeries—an experience that sparked his interest in funeral service. He enrolled at the Indiana College of Mortuary Science, seeking a life spent helping others in their most vulnerable moments. But before he could begin that chapter, life had another one planned.

In 1968, Jim was drafted into the U.S. Army during the Vietnam War. After basic training at Fort Knox, he was deployed near the DMZ in Phu Bai and assigned to the 24th Corps Artillery unit. There, he mentioned to the head of personnel about his mortuary science background, and within days, Jim was transferred to the U.S. Army Mortuary on Tan Son Nhut Air Base near Saigon; a much safer position.

The work at the mortuary was harrowing—thousands of fallen soldiers, each needing identification, dignity, and a return home. Under the mentorship of Wesley Neep, one of the world's foremost experts in body identification, Jim learned the painstaking art of honoring life through death. It was emotionally grueling work, and yet, Jim managed to find light in dark places. He explored Saigon, swapped stories with fellow servicemen, and added quirky phrases like "Titi boku, sisi wawa" to his ever-growing lexicon. He would later reconnect with several of the men he served with in Vietnam, rekindling friendships that had been forged in the fire of shared service.

After returning from Vietnam, Jim resumed work in funeral service. But fate had a love story waiting. While playing in the orchestra for a high school musical, Jim crossed paths with Jane Arkins at a cast party. Jane's sister, Sue, told Jim "I think she'll go out with you," and that was it. Jane, for her part, said she knew before their first date at DiMaggio’s in South Haven that she'd marry him. Jim sealed the deal not only with his warmth and humor, but with his poetic flair—writing Jane love letters and poems from the very start. Her parents adored him immediately. Jim and Jane married on April 12, 1975, launching a 50-year partnership full of music, laughter, road trips, and handwritten notes.

Jim and Jane's love story included two sons, Ryan (born in 1976) and Patrick (born in 1981). Jim's style of parenting was rooted in kindness. From the very start, he instilled in his children the mantra: always seek the good in people. Jim never could bring himself to discipline the kids—or the dogs. So he left that to Jane; she would send them to their rooms, and Jim would come up a few minutes later to release them. Time together included evening bike rides through Parkview Hills, symphony visits, and thoughtfully planned family vacations. Jim had a knack for finding quirky, character-rich inns with a story, and finding off-the-map destinations. The journey, to Jim, was always the point.

Jim's career took off with Batesville Casket Company in 1976. His approach to sales was revolutionary—less about product and more about people. He listened, empathized, and served. His clients trusted him not only for his expertise but for his heart. By 1996, he was inducted into Batesville's prestigious Master's Club—the highest honor in the company. From Rookie of the Year in 1976 to the Council of Excellence, Jim's impact was profound. His mentorship of colleagues was legendary, and his frequent use of the word "fabulous" was infectious.

Despite his accolades, Jim never took himself too seriously. It was said that he only had two speeds: slow and reverse. He delighted in storytelling, gentle mischief, and spontaneous expressions of affection. Even when life was busy, Jim made it a point to be home for dinner, to be present, and to offer support.

After more than 30 years with Batesville, Jim continued his passion for meaningful funerals by taking on new roles at Hillenbrand and later Life Story Network. He believed that stories had the power to heal, and his work helped shape how families honored the lives of their loved ones.

Jim was a collector—not of things, but of meaning. He collected pens (only the finest: Mont Blanc and Waterman), quotes, stories, and people. His handwritten cards were treasured gifts. He believed that, if you’re going to write a note, it should be with a quality instrument. If you were lucky, you received one of those letters: part reflection, part encouragement, all Jim. He often sent spontaneous emails to friends and family filled with musings on life, gratitude, and gentle wisdom.

Jim sang in the choir at St. Augustine Cathedral for 25 years—some of the best years of his life, he often said. Practices were followed by gatherings at the Corner Bar, summer pool parties, and impromptu music-filled evenings at Frank Zajac's house. He was energized by community and laughter. Nothing made him happier than sharing a meal and conversation with friends. He was the very definition of presence.

Jim was often found sitting on his patio, engaging in deep conversations with neighbors and friends. He had a gift for making everyone feel important, and his catchphrases — "Write when you get work" and "Remember, you're wonderful" — became a hallmark of his interactions with loved ones.

Retirement gave Jim more time to spend with his family, including his granddaughter, Shae. From teaching her how to carve the Thanksgiving Turkey, to cheering at softball games, to celebrating her master’s degree and her career, Jim was the embodiment of kindness, compassion, and grace for his favorite granddaughter. She once remarked, "I wish I could move through life the way you do, Grandpa," to which Jim replied, "Well, I took the scenic route."

When Jim passed away on July 24, 2025, the world lost more than a good man. It lost a melody, a poem, a handwritten note that arrived just when you needed it. It lost a storyteller who believed in your story, a salesman who sold with heart, a veteran who served with honor, a father who showed up for dinner, and a husband who never stopped saying "I love you." So the next time you take the long way home, hear the swell of a cello, write a card, or pause to truly see someone—you'll find Jim there.

"We have not missed, you and I, we have not missed that many-splendored thing."

James Bauschke of Kalamazoo died on July 24, 2025 at the age of 80. Jim was born April 22, 1945 in South Haven. He is preceded in death by his parents, Alfred and Adena (Olson) Bauschke, and his sister, Joanne Pherigo.

Surviving are his wife, Jane; sons: Ryan Bauschke and Patrick Bauschke; favorite granddaughter, Yasmine “Shae” Ford; sister, Betty (Charlie) Simpson; sister-in-law, Sue (Roger) Olson; brothers-in-law: Dick Arkins and Johnny Pherigo; and many extended family, and nieces and nephews to whom he will always be the Awesome Uncle Jim!

Join us now as we share his story at a Life Story Service on Friday, August 1, at 4 PM at Betzler Life Story Funeral Homes, 6080 Stadium Drive, Kalamazoo (269) 375-2900. Jim also loved a good party, and he’s going to get one! A reception will follow the service in the Life Story Center with food, drinks, and Jimlets! Private burial with military honors at Lake View Cemetery in South Haven.

Celebrate Jim’s life online by sharing your favorite stories and photos on his dedicated webpage at BetzlerLifeStory.com. Memorial contributions may be made to the Listiak Music Endowment Fund through the South Haven Community Foundation.