Ray Kane 1923 - 1993

Father Mac,
Something that will turn
the medals into plowshares

Joan that transformation happened 
with each wedding six daughters 
bride or bridesmaid in turn
each solo with your father

Daddy’s little girl the ritual dance 
at table with mother and brothers 
we saw the alchemy at work
knew he had brought the war home

Saw more the miracle
love forgiving understanding overcoming 
Merrill’s Marauder never wore the medals 
too many for his lean chest

Purple Heart Bronze Star Presidential Unit Emblem 
Honorable Service World War Two 
Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal with
Four Service Stars Etc. Etc.

No medals for the malaria typhus dysentery,
more often than he could remember 
wet muddied hungry in the jungle 
few of them survived

In the close world of parish school
you and your sister Kathleen met a brother 
and a sister who recognized your name:
Your Dad carried our Dad half way across China

Deeper than the wound that won a Purple Heart 
his anguish over killing to discover on the man 
a photo of his own wife and two children 
remorse he took with him to the grave

His medals became plowshares with you 
your testimony before Congress against
a draft for Vietnam and again your training 
to counsel conscientious objectors

I remember him in later years
this man of brothers priests and sisters nuns 
across the room at family gatherings
removed but gracious a hint of a smile

All of us spread out on chairs and floor 
children and spouses grandchildren 
all ages too many to count a comfort 
to him needing that comfort

After Mass I would say to no one but myself 
Next time Ray should do the homily
this man who knows more of life and death 
courage and weakness than I or any priest

John P. McNamee
August 2009
Work in progress

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