Joe Gililland (1973)

            James ( Jimbo ) MacFarland   Dec 9 1955 – April 12 2017

I first met James Clark MacFarland close to 50 years ago, on a makeshift football field along the George Washington Parkway not far from Mt. Vernon hill. He was a sandy haired, blue eyed good looking new kid, athletic and fast as all get out. I disliked him immediately. He proceeded to burn me, outrunning me easily pass after pass for about 45 min. Finally out of frustration and anger from being shown up, I chased him through the end zone until he stopped, turned to face me and I tackled him hard. We rolled in the grass each grabbing the others arms trying to get the upper hand. Luckily I outweighed him because he had a strong wiry frame and after tussling a bit, got up, mean mugged each other and we went our separate ways. We were 11.

      Jimbo, Mic Mac, Jimmy Mac, and Decker ( for upper decker shots ) as his baseball loving dad called him, became my brother out of a mutal respect that began that day and continued for the next 50 years. Jim and I grew up together and along with a pretty close circle of friends learned about life as we tried to figure out our places in our world. Our bond was forged in the furnace of our youth, cemented by common love of music, sports, cars, good times and girls. I remember sitting up in his bedroom with a scratchy old record player listening to the acoustic sounds of Crosby, Stills and Nash and then a year later discussing the addition of Neil Young and how that influence enhanced the sound and the band. He introduced the sound of Jimi Hendrix to me, from the beginning recognizing the genius behind the flying fingers and guitar wizardry.

     The words mattered to Jim. It wasn’t just the sound or the virtuosity displayed by various artists, but it was also the story. Those were the songs that touched us then and still do today. It was Mac that introduced me to the fantastic and epic, little known at that time, series concerning a Hobbit named Billbo, and the Lord of the Rings.

  Jimbo felt these things deeply which goes to the compassionate caring person he was. He had the rare ability to make almost anyone he talked with feel like they mattered, really mattered and of course they did. He would listen, lean his head to the side, maybe rub his chin for effect and then smile before telling you with a sparkle in his eye, why you were wrong.

    As I think back on our lives and the adventures we shared it is almost impossible to recall an event or story that doesn’t begin “ remember that time, you me and Jimbo … “  Tom Michie, Dave Reed, Lee Martin, Ken Zenger, Bart Wheatley, Steve Iorio, Dave Pomeroy, Jim Beattie, Hank Everest, Tim Davenport and so many others, you all know what I mean.

    Jimbo could be a silly dude. He had a great spirit and mischievous sense of humor. Every time we got together it was a laugh fest. We could crack each other up just by looking at one another knowing full well what the other was thinking. His corny sense of humor was a direct result of his loving father Jim senior. What a great guy and physical comic he was, and the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree. Who doesn’t remember Jimbo pulling up the end of his nose with a thumb and grunting “hairnt, hairnt,” whatever that means haha.  

     As a loving father to Alex, Sophie and Erika his devotion was unwavering and steadfast. Through some very good and other times challenging days he was there, a rock they could count on, someone who believed in them and trusted the Lords plan for us all. Jim increasingly became a very religious man later in life. His deep faith again passed along by his loving parents who were two of the gentlest souls I ever met. They raised Jim, Anne and Pam to be grounded in deep religious beliefs and I know the Bible provided him with comfort, strength and genuine optimism. He was unafraid.

     Over the years our life paths diverged but would always reconnect, always bringing sincere joy and that feeling of brotherly love when our eyes locked and the smiles were felt too deep to try and contain. Jim was a dear friend and at times coconspirator. He was funny, hard headed and loyal. He could be tough minded and at the same time warm, gentle and kind. He was a brother to me in the truest sense of the word and will be greatly missed but never forgotten. I love you man, and Jimbo……go deep!

- Submitted by Rob Woehrle (FHHS '74) , April 2017 

Joe Gililland (1973)

I just posted Rob Woehrle's tribute to his pal, Jim MacFarland, and I have to say that it is the most honest & funny tribute that I have ever seen written for a fallen Federal. I've known Rob since our FHHS days and never knew we had such a insightful poet in our midst!  Rob's writing is obviously heartfelt and really shows the depth (and intensity) of our long-term relationships with classmates and friends. I didn't know Jim MacFarland that well, but after reading Rob's story, I really feel that I know him better.  RIP, Jim.

I encourage all the Federals to 'open-up' and let us know how you feel about the classmates that we have lost.  Interesting stories help, but more so, let us know about how these alumni affected your life in positive (or funny) ways that have helped make our lives richer - and better.

BTW, Facebook postings come and go, but the FHHS Alumni website is here for good - a permanent record of lost alumni, our feelings about them and those classic FHHS stories that just can't be topped.  Thanks.      

Barbara Cairns Marston (Bouldin) (1974)

I loved Robbie W's comments and memories. Hi Rob! Fact is, all of those young men mentioned in Rob's memoir are exceptional people. How blessed you were to have them as your friends!  What I remember most about Jimmy was his sweetness. He really did make everyone he spoke to feel special. His eyes were kind and truthful. We had some brief, but meaningful conversations at the many reunions over the years, mostly having to do with our mutual love for our God. Precious memories.

Barbie