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The Eulogy for James "Jim" Donahoe read at his funeral at
Sacred Heart Catholic Church on
April 8, 1994

Good Journey, Dad

The ancient Greeks practiced the ritual of placing a gold coin in the casket with the deceased for the deceased to pay the ferryman to cross the River Styx. We gather today to provide our own gold coins for Jim Donahoe, our dad, in the form of love and prayers, and to wish him a good journey. It is only right that we wish him a good journey after all of the many wonderful odysseys he took each of us, and many others, on while he was on Earth. He is now known as a traveler, but we knew him by other titles, such as husband, brother, son, father, grandfather, coworker, longshoreman, horticulturist, poet, tutor, and several other titles which may come to mind later. He shared with each of us in his own way, his compassion, his knowledge, and his love.

Dad had many wonderful journeys and travels. His longest companion, and sometimes partner in crime, on these journeys since childhood was his brother, Jack. These two brothers were inseparable through their journeys as pages in the Louisiana Legislature and their lengthy tenure on the docks of New Orleans. The brothers tried their hand at hog farming at the family farm in Goodbee, Louisiana. Later, efforts to raise hogs was abandoned and Jack brought his wife, Dolores, mother-in-law, Ida, our grandmother, Marguerite, and great aunt, Helen, to the farm on a regular basis to grow azaleas. Once when dad was down and depressed, Jack came to the rescue by lifting dad’s spirits. Jack sat across the hospital room looking at dad’s hairless head and said, "Gee, brother, I like the shape of your head." He made the same comment three times before telling dad his oversized ears and bald head made dad’s head look like a loving cup. Dad broke into tears of laughter. This was the kind of humor dad expected, and always received, from an always-willing Jack.

Dad’s next companion on his journey was our mom. They were married in 1951 and were happy for 42 years. Together, they shared many great adventures, such as trips to the French Quarter to go to the flea markets, raising plants in the greenhouse dad built, raising their three children, and caring for each other. They were there for each other in good times and in bad times. Our father love mom dearly. Dad relayed a story once, which still has us chuckling. When our house on Sigur was built, he made a deal with mom that she could decorate the house anyway she wanted; however, the decorating of the living room was up to dad. She agreed to the deal until dad revealed that he wanted to put throw pillows on the floor to create a relaxed atmosphere for poetry readings. Mom immediately decorated the living room to suit her and dad had to settle on coffee houses to read his poetry. Our parents were set in their ways. Saturday morning would find them at the social spot of Metairie, Schwegmann’s supermarket on Veterans Boulevard. The evenings were spent at Piccadilly Cafeteria where dad enjoyed his shrimp dinners. For many years, they would go to Shoney’s restaurant for coffee in the early evening. These are the things they loved doing and they loved doing them together.

From our parent’s union came three children, Terry, Kevin and Erin. Our parents were always there for us with their unconditional love and support in good times and during the rough times. They bent over backwards to provide the three of us with the finest education's and to meet all of our needs. Dad, during his more than 40 years on the docks, never took a vacation and, sometimes, worked overtime so extra money would always be available for your needs, even those needs which were really frivolous, but we deemed important. Our parents unselfishly put the three of us, and our needs, first whether it was Terry and Kevin running to judo classes several times a week, or Erin with her speech and debate tournaments. There were times when our parents wanted to kill us, such as the time Terry played tackle with a cement column at a wedding reception and needed a few stitches. There was the time Kevin accidentally lost his car keys in the Tickfaw River while tubing with Robin Richard and had to drive back that night to get the car. As far as Erin, well, she never got into trouble from what we remember. Our parents were there for us, listened to and helped with our problems, celebrated in our successes and loved us unconditionally. It was this unconditional love which the three of us appreciated greatly. Their love continued from the time we were born and has never stopped.

Adding to dad’s great sojourn was the birth of his six grandchildren, including Terry and wife, Donna’s, four children, Michael, James, Daniel, and Kathryn. Erin and husband Bob have two children, Kelly and Timothy. Dad enjoyed the stories of Mike’s first dance and date and his baseball accomplishments, and the four grandsons in the Boy Scouts. He enjoyed the escapades of the two grand daughters in the Girl Scouts. He was told of each grandchild’s activities, including Kelly’s dance lessons; Tim’s track races and new trumpet; Dan’s latest "Mr. Fix-it" projects; James’ love of animals and nature; and, Katie’s adventures in school. Dad enjoyed the stories the parents relayed on all of the mischief of each grandchild. He enjoyed their frequent visits and played the dotting grandfather. He took particular interest in their academic achievements. He knew that each would continue to be a success in school.

Dad’s journey was rich indeed with all of the terrific persons he met along the way, including mom’s sister and brother-in-law, Ruth and Val Pitre. Ruth and Val have always been there for us. Ruth, who goes by several other names, loves nature and flowers. As a matter of fact, she distributed special, gorgeous roses on St. Patrick’s Day. Additional traveling companions of our family, include longtime friends, the Thompsons, the Wolfes, the Garveys, the Bertins, the Lombards, the Virgadamos, the Theobalds, and all of the friends on Sigur, as well as old friends from the days the family home was on Banks Street.

The good Sister’s of Mount Carmel, whose yard mom and dad landscaped many years ago, also joined dad on his journey. Sr. Francesco Truxillo gave dad and our family her love, her support, medical advice and care, and her compassion. Sr. Lee Faszold was kind in being our friend, providing medical advice, and providing her love. Sr. Catherine Riggs, well, what can you say about an LSU fan, other than she is a fantastic person. She provided love, concern, humor, smiles, and fresh flowers - some of the flowers were hers and others were "borrowed" from the older Sisters.

The men of the International Longshoreman’s Association and all of those who worked with dad at the Port of Embarkation for more than 40 years were also his traveling companions. These persons simply were not coworkers, but actually had become extended family members. Dad shared in all of the success of each man and his family, and he was there for each when times got tough. We heard abbreviated versions of stories about the Pardo brothers, Mr. Mac Cloud, Newt Blanchard’s baseball triumphs, Mr. Ronny on his horse, and many others too numerous to mention. The most enjoyable riverfront character, and this word is used in a good sense, was Leonard Dardar. Dardar often saw mom and dad at Schwegmann’s grocery store and always had to share his wit and humor, as well as great drawings. He and his wife, Judy, visited us on numerous occasions, always with a joke in the back of his mind and stories of his days in the military.

Dad and mom loved plants which was evident by dad building by hand, with the help of Jack, a spacious greenhouse for mom, which has since been taken over by Kevin. They enjoyed growing ferns, orchids, begonias, and anything else that caught their fancy. This love affair with plants began when dad was a child growing four-o’clock plants at the family home on Banks Street. He experimented cutting four-o’clock seeds in half, then putting two different four-o’clocks together. The resulting four-o’clocks were his pride and joy - a yellow flower with an orange star in the center. Four-o’clocks are still growing and thriving at our home on Sigur.

Another horticulture passion of our dad was the planting and growing of tomato plants and the subsequent harvest of the fruit which he shared with anyone who enjoyed homegrown tomatoes. He use to plant his tomatoes earlier than the recommended date for the planting so he could enjoy his tomatoes sooner. Dad had a running joke with the family that the family would be out in the yard protecting his precious tomatoes from approaching cold weather while he sat warm and comfortable in the house watching his stock market programs on CNBC. Kevin’s response to dad’s request was often--- well, his response would be inappropriate for church. Dad and longtime neighbor, Don Garvey, use to compete with each other as to who could grow the larger and better tomatoes. This friendly rivalry often included accusations of the other for the sabotaging of plants by putting pests on the tomatoes. How absurd!! My dad placing slugs and aphids on Don’s plants? We’re still not sure, but dad often had the larger plants and better fruit, while slugs devoured Don’s tomatoes.

Among the other titles dad held during his odyssey on Earth was that of a poet. Charles Bauldelaire wrote of poets, "The poet is like the prince of clouds, Who haunts the tempest and laughs at the archer, Exiled on the ground in the midst of jeers, His giant wings prevent him from walking." Our gentle poet, our dad, soared among the clouds in writing his poetry. His poems were simple ranging from a lizard basking in the greenhouse, an orchid flower, and the family hog farm, to his "Legacy" of layloes to catch meddlers. Sir Walter Scott wrote on the death of a poet, "Call it not vain; they do not err, Who say, that when the poet dies, Mute nature mourns her worshipper, and celebrates his obsequies."

Legacy

My grandmother
Always told
A curious child,
"Layloes to catch meddlers."

These small people-things
Must have immigrated from Ireland
Several generations past,
And multiplied rapidly
As seen
By the number of places
They inhabited
In the time of my childhood.

That was long ago
In a different world
They walked in slow motion
Beneath chinaball trees.

The layloe population
Has now diminished
Until there is
But one left,
In my head,
To catch meddlers.

Jim Donahoe’s "legacy" are the poems he wrote during his lifetime. Many of his poems, which will soon be joined by other poems, newspaper clippings, and other items relevant to his accomplishments as a poet, are stored in the archives at Xavier University, to be enjoyed and studied by future generations of scholars and poets.

Dad made many wonderful friends through his involvement with poetry and the New Orleans Poetry Forum. Lee Grue honored out dad at the wake last night by reading several of his poems. Dad thought very highly of Lee Grue and respected her as a poet, a writer, and as a dear friend. Dad’s other friends in poetry include, Martha McFerrin, Andrea Gereighty, Mary Gehman, Jan Villarubia, Steve Schwartz, and Gail Peck, to name only a few.

Jim was an accomplished poet. He received countless awards at the Deep South Writer’s Conference at the University of Southwestern Louisiana. He received other awards locally and at the national level. He had his poetry published nationwide. He was selected as a member of an elite group, Poets and Writers. Despite all of these accolades, dad, a humble and modest man, selected to read his poetry at coffeehouses throughout the city so that his poetry could be shared with others. Dad’s favorite coffee houses were the Penny Post and Barsodi’s. Barsodi’s still has one of dad’s poems displayed on a wall of the coffeehouse.

Dad was Scotch-Irish and proud of his heritage. He loved reading stories of the Celtic past. His last request was to be remembered as a Scotch-Irish. His final request, made last Sunday evening, was to have a bagpiper at his funeral. We are honored this morning to have Forrest Taylor fulfill our dad’s last request and to play the bag pipes in dad’s honor. Thank you very much, Forrest, for what you are doing for our dad.

Dad asked, if it was at all possible, to have his favorite song, "Puff the Magic Dragon," played at his funeral. Peter, Paul and Mary made the song famous. Dad related to the song because of having to grow up and leave his childhood fantasies behind. Robin Richard, a close friend of the family, will honor dad and play the song at the conclusion of the eulogy. Everyone is invited to sing along with Robin and our family. Thank you, Robin.

It is only fitting that we wish our dad a good journey from Sacred Heart Church. This is the church where dad was Baptized, made his First Communion, his Confirmation, and was married and had his three children Baptized. By the way, we are honored this morning to have dad’s four grandson’s serve as altar boys. Dad spent countless hours in the basement of the church with the Boy Scouts where he received his Eagle Scout pin, which was displayed on the sash in the casket last night. Our family would like to thank Father Albert Ernst of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Church for conducting the mass this morning for our dad. Thank you,
Father Al.

The pen has been laid down and no poetry will flow from the pen. Our bard’s hand is now still. This is the same hand, which touched each of us, held his beloved wife, children and grandchildren. The hand that was extended to everyone in their time of need. The hand that was used to pet and feed stray cats and dogs and the family Dobermans. The same hand that picked tomatoes and bunches of four-o’clocks. The trips to Shoney’s, Schwegmann’s, the coffeehouses, and to the Port are over. No longer will we see his smile or hear his voice give us comfort, courage, and knowledge. No longer will his blue eyes see any of us or look at four-o’clocks. The poet’s journey on Earth has come to an end, and now, he has journeyed ahead to wait for each of us. He will be waiting with poems, puns and tales. He will have a smile on his face and a gleam in his blue eyes. He will have fresh, homegrown tomatoes for each of us. Dad will crack jokes with Saint Peter just to get the first tomato plants of the season, but then, there are no seasons where dad is now. We were fortunate to be a part of dad’s wonderful journey on Earth. Dad has said repeatedly, "It is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all." How lucky we were to have loved Jim Donahoe.

We have given him our gold coins of love and prayers to pay the ferryman. We wish our husband, dad, brother, grandfather, coworker, poet, writer, and friend a good journey. He has given all he can to us, but we can do something for him. We can take the love, the compassion, the wisdom, and the knowledge he shared with each of us in his own unique way, add to what he has given us, and pass this along to another, hence perpetuating his legacy.

Percy Shelly wrote: "I never was attached to that great sect, Whose doctrine is, that each one should select, Out of the crowd a mistress or friend, And all the rest, though fair and wise, command to cold oblivion though ‘tis the code of modern morals, and the beaten road which those poor slaves with weary footsteps tread, Who travel to their home among the dead by the broad highway of the world, and so with one chained friend, perhaps a jealous foe, The dreariest and the longest journey go."

Take our coins, dad.

We love you, dad.

Good journey, dad.

Jim Donahoe at rest with his beloved four-o'clocks
in front of his grave

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