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COLUMN BY MATT PRANGER |
Previous columnsList of columns written by Matt Pranger | |
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A priest, distinguished veteran and nephew's hero
posted 12/12/03
At age 7 I didn't know of the hard work and the many selfless deeds the hands of my uncle, Father Francis McDonnell, had performed. I couldn't know what charitable actions the hands of Uncle Francis, who died Nov. 11, would continue to perform. Francis W. McDonnell was born to William and Genevieve McDonnell in Delmar, Iowa on Dec. 11, 1922. The oldest of nine children, his long life of helping others started on the family farm near Charlotte. In his early teens, performing a man's job, "Fritz" worked as a machinist at a factory in Clinton, Iowa. His wages helped support his parents, sisters -- Lois (Ganna), Mary Jo (Place) and Teresa (Pranger) -- and brothers -- Don, Tom (Pinky), Chuck, Dick and Leon McDonnell. Enlisting in the Navy in 1943, Fritz served as a machinist. After World War II, he returned to Clinton, working in the family grocery store. He was recalled to military duty in 1950 and served in the Korean War. After being discharged from the Navy in 1952, Francis answered a calling that sang in his heart from childhood: He entered the seminary at the University of San Diego and was ordained a Catholic priest in 1960. Father "Mac" returned to the military, serving as a chaplain for the Navy and the Marines. During two tours of Vietnam, he could've remained out of harm's way in the safety of a base but ministered to soldiers in the field. "If those little buggers don't need me, nobody does," he replied to those expressing concern about his safety. Uncle Francis also hopped from ship to ship to perform his mission. The picture of him being lowered in a sling from a helicopter to the deck of a boat fascinated a first-grader. After directing the construction of a 500-student elementary school in South Vietnam, Francis turned to his brother Pinky to help equip it with school supplies. My uncle Pinky -- a polio victim and quadriplegic recognized as the National Handicap Person of the Year by President Regean -- put out a plea. Generous students and local businesses responded, quickly filling my grandmother's house with 600 pounds of pens, pencils, papers, notebooks. The Navy awarded Francis the Bronze Star for his "great spiritual guidance to the members of his unit" and for "displaying an uncommon concern for the Vietnamese people." Uncle Francis also performed numerous, unexpected and unheralded smaller deeds. Once, while on duty Vietnam, a sailor said he wished his mother had a refrigerator. My uncle asked a friend in the States to purchase the fridge and told the buddy he would repay him when he returned. My uncle had the refrigerator delivered -- I think for Christmas -- without the mother knowing who bought it. At the time he retired from the Navy, Francis reached the rank of captain and was one of the most decorated chaplains in the service. He continued to serve as a chaplain at Mercy Hospital in San Diego for several years. Even after retirement from there, he volunteered almost daily, saying Mass or ministering to the sick. Uncle Francis also had the heartrending task of burying his younger brothers two, three or four decades before what should've been their time. Writing this column is difficult enough, I couldn't imagine giving the eulogy for five brothers. Father Mac looked forward to going back to Clinton. He beamed with pride while baptizing, marrying or administering another sacrament to a relative. Uncle Francis cherished his nephews, nieces, cousins and other younger kin. He always brought a fun surprise -- a six-foot-tall ball, helium balloons, life-size stuffed animals, baby pigs -- to the annual McDonnell and O'Toole family reunions. The older relatives enjoyed his sense of humor. He constantly was telling a funny story or joke. The last time I saw my uncle he was trying to help someone. In September I'd returned to Iowa for the 100th birthday of a great-aunt (Vivian's another inspiration for a later column). I drove Uncle Francis to his hotel near the airport after the celebration. I helped take his luggage to his room and he walked back to the lobby with me. As I left, he was advising the desk clerk to return to college. Smiling, I thought it impossible for my uncle to retire from counseling others. Thirty-five years later, I don't want to be a priest. (My wife might not like that.) I don't mind getting my hands dirty. (I still don't have a clue where I came up with that.) I do want to be more like my Uncle Francis, though. He gave so generously and courageously for his God, family, country. He's an even bigger hero to me today. Happy Birthday, Uncle Fritz. |
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