 Jimmy
Jacks
Dan Ferry
Born 1902
Died: May 1987
Dan was born in 1902. He came to
the United States in the mid 1920's. My sister, Florence, remembers
that Uncle Jimmy was already in the U.S. and sponsored the immigration
of Danny and also Grace. The picture here has Dan on the left,
then his brothers, Jimmy at center, and Joe on the right. This
photo was taken outside Dan's and wife Madeline's home in College
Park, Maryland. The occasion was the wedding of his daughter,
Kathleen to Bud Latimer in 1959 or 1960.
Madeline Hardy and Dan Ferry married
in 1931 and had three daughters; Patsy, Kathleen and Danielle.
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| Dan with brother-in-law, Joe Finacaro.
I don't know if they are standing in front of Hialeah or Dover
Downs but you can bet that there are horses on the other side
of the grandstand. |
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| With his older brother, Hughie, harvesting
oats in summer of 1963. |
Uncle Dan enjoyed working the fields
whenever he got a chance to return home to Donegal. On one occasion,
he was cutting hay with Denny McCallion. They were using a cutter
behind a tractor. Dan lost his index finger to the blade of the
cutter. Taken to hospital, and treated, recovered but for the
rest of his life without that finger. He used to joke, "When
I die, I want you to send me back to Ireland; bury me with my
finger."
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| Dan at left with his brothers and sisters:
Joe Annie, Hughie and Grace. The occasion was Hughie's visit
with Joe Clarke to the states in October of 1970. Hughie's
cancer was in remission long enough for this visit. In the
summer of 1971, Hughie sickened. Dan and Joe travelled to
Donega,l and nursed their older brother through to the end.
Hughie died September 16, 1971. |
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| Dan with the tie. At his brother Joe's
house in the early 1950's. From the right: his daughter Danielle
(notice her broken right arm in a cast). his nephew, Jimmy
Ferry; Dan's brother, Joe; Joe's daughter Mary Ferry. On the
pedestal at left, the kid with the rugged good looks and plenty
of hair, is the writer. |
Dan worked for the Potomac Power
and Light Company for forty years. He died suddenly in May of
1987. After he died, I wrote the following letter to Aunt Madeline.
My own father passed only a few weeks later, last of his generation
to go.
May 15, 1987
Dear Aunt Madeline,
When I heard of Uncle Dan's death this
past Sunday, I rushed down to Wildwood. I knew my father's
heart would be broken. I didn't think he could stand more
pain and suffering than he's been given to endure. HIs
grief was softened by his knowledge and faith that his
separation from his brother would not be long. He said
to me late Sunday night, "Danny and I have been on
many trips together and I guess God wants us to take this
one together, too." In some way, I think Dad is pleased
that his own survival saved Dan the sorrow of being the
last of the clan.
Dan was my father's big brother; not only
was he Dad's best friend, but Danny was a hero to him.
For me, also, my Uncle Dad was always a hero. I can remember
as a boy telling my friends that my Uncle Dan was the
main electrician for Washington, D.C. and the White House,
too. "My Uncle Dan told me himself that President
Truman doesn't even plug in the toaster without getting
the say so from my uncle! I bragged that he lived in a
house that wasn't stuck up against anybody else's house
- it had grass on all four sides of it and in the backyard
was a forest with great tall trees with eagles living
in the tops of them. My Uncle Dan told me that the trees
were so high that the eagles up there got sunburnt and
were black as ordinary crows.
All my life, I loved being in his presence.
He had about him a resolute joyfulness in the company
of others, a faith in the basic goodness of life and people
that was contagious. I was never with him that he didn't
make me feel that there was absolutely no other place
and no other person in the whole world that he would rather
be with at that moment. I felt embraced when with him.
I suspect he made many others feel that way.
Though I've come to realize that Presidents
aren't likely to make their own toast, and the birds in
your backyard forest were likely less than sunburnt eagles,
still your man remained a hero to me. As I push on through
middle age, wealth, fame and power are no longer my measures
of a man. I've come to see the qualities of loyalty, perseverence,
fidelity to promises made and dedication to family as
the virtues of an admirable man. My years have shown me
that such men an uncommon. My father and my Uncle Dan
have been these such uncommon men. I'll miss them.
I have a son named Joseph D for his gradnfather.
I have son named Daniel Ferry for his great uncle. Beyond
this season of endings, beyond this time of death and
of dying, of separation and of our sorrow, these boys
will carry their names into happier seasons and future
times. My little son sensed that his namesake's death
was a loss to him but he's too young to hnow how true
that is for him and for all of us. He thought that since
Uncle Dan died he, my little Dan, might have to give up
or change in some way, his name. I told Danny that he
could keep the name.
My prayer for him is that as he grows
to manhood, he will have those qualities - joy that refuses
to tolerate sadness for long, loyalty, steadfastness,
faithfulness and dedication to family - that have made
his namesake always a hero to me.
Dear Aunt Madeline, peace and comfort
to you, and strength to live on past these sad days.
With much love
Your nephew;
Joey
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| Dan's offspring. In the center is his
widow, Madeline, at a party on the occasion of her 95th birthday
in spring of 2002. She is surrounded by their two surviving
daughters, Patsy and Kathleen, and some of their grandchildren
and great-grandchildren. Her daughter Danielle's own granddaughter,
Maggie, is at her right hand. |
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