Florence Hughes was born on April 6, 1908 in
Philadelphia.
Her mother was Cecelia
(nee Flynn) Hughes, originally of Claremorris, County Mayo, Ireland.
Cecelia was born around 1866 to Tom Flynn, farmer of Dalton,
Claremorris, and Mary (nee Costello) Flynn.
Mom's father was John Hughes,
originally of Knock, County Mayo, Ireland. John was born around the year
1878 to John Hughes and wife Honor (nee Finn) Hughes. Mom's parents immigrated
to the United States in the last years of the 19th century. Her dad,
John, was able to return once to his Irish home -- during that visit
he bought
a white horse and rode it all over the Mayo countryside -- her mother,
Cecelia, never saw Ireland again after her emigration. John was the
boyfriend, originally,
of Cecelia's sister, but romance led him to Cecelia. They were wed here
in Philadelphia, in the year 1901.
 |
| Nana's Mother, Cecelia Flynn Hughes, with
Uncle Johnny and Aunt Mary. Taken about 1930, probably by Aunt
Mary's husband,, Tom Jensen, who was a professional photographer |
Florence was the fifth of six children born
of that union. First born was Nora in 1903, next Mary in 1904, then two
girls who died in early childhood, Annie
and Cecelia. Florence was born at home in South Philadelphia in 1908. Her
brother John, the only boy of the family was born two years after
Florence, in 1910.
School
School years for Mom were at
Saint Anthony of Padua Parish. This Saint Anthony has been a favorite
of Mom's all these years. She still calls on his intercession
whenever she misplaces anything. When I was a boy preparing for confirmation,
she lost her wedding ring. She had us all praying to St Anthony while searching
the house. The ring got found before Dad got home from work. St Anthony was
thanked and I was instructed that Anthony would be the name I would take
at Confirmation. So Joseph Patrick Anthony Ferry. St Anthony's, the place
of her baptism, and the place of her early education would also be the place
of her wedding.
Hallahan (during her time, "Philadelpia Catholic
Girls")
High School would see her graduate in 1925 after a three year course. First
in her family
to achieve a high school diploma, she went on for a brief period studying
to be a nurse before the necessity of work brought her formal education
to an
end. Office work, restaurant work even some time working
at a resort in the Poconos with Aunt Nora, along with the whirl of
friends and boyfriends,
dances, dates
and trips to Atlantic City were the ways the Twenties roared for the one
pictured at the front of these pages.
Marriage and Children
She met Dad at
an Irish Dance in 1932, The Donegal Ball. She and her friend, Moss,
had been thinking about going in the convent to be nuns. Dashing
Joe
Ferry, recently of Falcarragh, County Donegal, had her dancing at the Ball.
The guy even had a job. So much for her religious vocation. They were married
on February 22, 1933, honeymooned in Washington D.C.
First child, James,
was born November 16, 1933. Notice, six days short of the required
nine months -- no leap year in 1933 to ease the gap. There
was
talk - "...love
child...", "jumping the gun...." She has outlived
the talk and the talkers, the final word is hers - "conceived in
the nation"s
capital, home run first time at bat, honeymoon child: "case closed."
Then
Mary, first daughter, and the faithful one all these years was born in
1935. Then Florence in 1939, Ann Marie in 1942, me in 1947, and Eileen
the
youngest and the one who would be companion and kindred spirit.
Years then in which the cautions announced on February 22, 1933 had
to be endured. The thin of it, harder times, the poorer, some sickness,
the ashes of ash wednesday, the endless work, the endless worry. Mom
used to keep all the family's money in a thick black leather-bound
prayerbook in the center drawer of the buffet table in the dining roo
m. There were days when she went to that prayerbook and the only thing
in it was prayers. A time it was that asked for what our old catechism
books called "the
gift of long-suffering" - courage, fidelity , hanging in there. She did
it.
 |
| At Chester Avenue in late 50s. Mary McLaughlin,
Rosie Wright, Aunt Grace, Mom. |
By no means all tough going. She
was the matriarch of a brood of kids growing straight and strong.
She was the gracious
center of a house
and home of immense hospitality, receiving and welcoming relatives,
neighbors, friends, kid's friends, friends of friends, knife-sharpeners,
dressmen, bootblacks, immigrants, priests, doctors, lawyers, and
even, counting Jimmy's seminary friend Wally, an Indian chief. This
graciousness
travelled with her, whether on Trinity Street or at 5823 Chester
Avenue, or the summer week or two down the shore, that she and Dad
always managed
to have for us. Floss, Aunt Florence, Mrs. Ferry - "Always room
for one more", "Throw another potato in the pot.",
one was always well come to her home.
Retirement to Wildwood
Some return
on those thin times in later years. Her's and Dad's rediscovery of
one another after the time of work and kids. Love rekindled, re-given.
Wildwood years with one another, trips to Florida and Ireland with Uncle
Dan and Aunt Madeline. Times in Maryland, and with friends at home.
Grandchildren
And the other promises of wedding
day, "May you see your
children's children...."
Erin, the first of the children's children named for the place of this family's
roots and origins. Then Derry and O.G. a double gift. Rennie and Laura Lee
and David, Michael then Kathleen, Justin and Jody then Danny. Mom has had nothing
but happiness and joy in the lives of these new ones. They love her greatly,
and her stories, as much as she loves them, their hopes and dreams.
Dad's Going
Her strength would, sadly, be called upon again. Dad
sickened in 1979. Her great capacity to love, and to love him, required
all she could summon. Again
and during those years of hospitals here and hospitals there she would
be by his side; through all of the operations and treatments, appointments
and worry
and dashed hopes, the pain and the endless care. Patience, prayers, standing
by the man. She would come to understand all these years later that there
was a reason for that nursing training. The marriage of over half
a century came
to its completion. Dad died July 21, 1987. The grief almost took her away.
Wife no more, but mother still, needed even more now, possibly, to
see this fractious brood back to unity And grandmother for sure, and
the grandkids want to hear the stories still, need to hear them. New
knees maybe, and minus a gall bladder, with her hair gone white and
a wrinkle or two more than that flapper on the front page, but still
the grand woman with the great heart, here at 85, greatly loved for
all those years of love and strength, and needed still to see us through.
JPF
Spring, 1993
|
Nana in blue, at Mary's 65th birthday party. |
Florence
T. Ferry
