Joseph McCarthy's Funeral Day
Joe McCarthy, US Senator from my hometown,
found communists everywhere, a hero
to some, a villain to others, died at age 48,
when I was eleven years old. Alcoholism.
His body returned home in glory to some
in shame to others and thousands filed
by to see this man who was brought down
by his own demon while those he sought
to destroy were redeemed. Mother tuned
our kitchen radio to his funeral service
broadcast from our local St. Mary's Church.
During the service we argued, Mother proclaimed
I'd remember forever how I acted on Joe McCarthy's
funeral day, but though I never forgot her words
I don't remember my specific act. She was wrong.
I am struck by this poem Mary - really am enjoying glimpses back into political history through poetry and prose. Did you ever go inside St. Mary's church where McCarthy's funeral was held? It's interesting that your mother was wrong - that you remembered her words not your action - a reminder there for me regarding words to children!
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