I was blessed to grow up in a home filled with love, laughter, and great conversation. I was further blessed with two most excellent brothers! The oldest was Danny Mayo.
The best word I can think of to describe Dan is thoughtful. He had this huge file cabinet in his head and he had files in it for everyone he ever talked with. You could have a casual conversation with him about some shared interest and days, or months, or even years later you might get a call or a note or an e-mail about the subject and be amazed that he remembered something from a casual conversation like that. I always looked forward to the phone calls that started out “Hey sis, I saw something today I thought you would like…” They made me feel special! I think Dan really was in his element when e-mail became widespread. I would frequently start my day with a giggle when I checked my e-mail and found some cartoon in questionable taste that he’d sent me at three o’clock in the morning. Since we lost him I’ve gone through some of his things looking for information and found so many items printed from the internet, torn from a magazine or jotted down and it makes me sad that someone is going to miss their “tidbit from Danny”.
Like our father, Joe, Danny was a natural leader. He had a knack for seeing potential in people and figuring out how to get the best effort they had to give. With ladies he was more likely to lead by inclusion. He would just generate enough enthusiasm for a project that we all wanted to help. Dan grew up surrounded by strong and intelligent women, primarily our mother, JoAnn, but our grandmother and some special aunts and other ladies as well. He treated women as equals in work and play but felt we were always to be protected. I don’t remember a time when he didn’t have really good female friends, even when he was a little boy. It’s an old fashioned word but Dan was chivalrous. He would hold doors and chairs, take your elbow or put his hand on your back when you crossed the street or climbed stairs, and made so many other gentlemanly gestures. I’ve worked side by side with Danny doing things that are not traditionally female activities and he was always sensitive enough to let me try and helped where he could and encouraged where he could, and was never condescending. He would draw the line if he felt you were trying to do too much or putting yourself in jeopardy. If I was getting ready to pick up something icky or too heavy he would nudge me out of the way with his hip and say, “Just get out of the way sis, I’ve got this.” He cherished all women.
With men he led by example. He would never ask anyone to do more than, or even as much as he was willing to do himself. It was a point of pride to him to help other people live up to their potential and he would instruct where necessary, assist when necessary, and harangue when he thought it was appropriate. So many new friends I’ve been able to share with Danny since his passing have mentioned him being a teacher, a mentor, a father, a brother, and so many have told me they felt they were better people for knowing Dan. Those are the ones who “got” Danny. For those of you who might have felt that Dan was too harsh a taskmaster, too hard on people, or expected too much I advise you to look back at a time when you felt that way and listen with your heart. If Danny pushed you and demanded your best and griped at you until he got it, it’s because he knew what you could accomplish and wanted you to see it too. And at the moment he stopped griping and let you lay down your tools, your heart should hear him saying, “Well done, I’m proud of you.”
Growing up in a home with “good men” like my dad and my brother Danny and our brother Mike, who is different but no less excellent than Dan, prepared me to find Jack, the “good man” I married. I’ve always been able to see traits from the past generation in Dan; the way he would laugh sometimes or the way he would greet people or the way he wouldn’t back down in a spirited discussion. Sometimes in my own sons and daughter, my nieces and nephew, my brother and his wife, my husband, and in my new friends that were Danny’s work family I can see something of Danny and it makes me happy that he’s still alive in us all.
Debbie Dooley
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