Lee May (1942–2014)

This story gets a pretty low rating...2-star because it was flat with not much going on until the very last chapter, when Lee finally mentions his father and revels in his love of gardening. The last chapter is worth its own star. So, I gave it the extra star and bumbed it up to a 3-star.

Eddie Lee May's parents split when he was but eight years old. His father, Pes Mae, remarried and stayed on in his little childhood home in Meridian, Mississippi. His mother remarried and moved to East St. Louis, Illinois, because of the strong racial discriminations there in Meridian, bringing Lee with them.

This is the story of Lee's life growing up in racial America in the late 50's, 60's, and 70's. As the author's young life ran amuck in drinking and partying after his service in the military, and living in his parent's attic, he suddenly developed a love and longing for growing things. He would break the tops off beer bottles and grow random little plants in them in the attic. It proved to be a sign for him on how his life was faring. If he was happy, he was growing, if not happy then he couldn't seem to get in the spirit of growing things. Lee's feelings on gardening: "...gardening truly does represent order for me. It brings peace in a chaotic world." (p. 65) I would have to say that I concur. But, as he grows and jumps from job to job, and marriage to marriage, his father is not even mentioned in the story until the very end.

Both his mom and stepfather had died, and Lee, a journalist, was given an assignment to write a story on the 25th anniversary of the murders three civil rights workers in Philadelphia, Mississippi. He was 49 years old and thought this would be a good time to try and reconnect with his father.

The very last chapter Lee writes of his obsessive love of gardening and how it has connected him to other people, and especially to his father. His life finally comes together when he finally gets a job in a small town newspaper writing about gardening.

In reading his memoir, I'm reminded of back in the days when I was growing up. Although, he had to deal with racial tensions, we had that slow pace of time in common. His family used to drive to a certain corner in town, bringing beer, soda, and popcorn and sit in the car in a parking lot and people watch. They listened to the blues on the radio for entertainment. When times were better, they went out occasionally to a local club and dance to jukebox music and have a few beers, and bring young Lee along with them...just like my parents did with us three girls, who brought us down to The Palace once to see Fats Dominoe. They gardened and fished, throwing fish fries and fried vegetables from the garden, just like my family did. They played dominoes, a slow game for slow times. We played lots of games growing up. You don't see much of that today. People don't have that kind of time. They are just too busy in this fast-paced world, and we are all so darned tired!!… (mer)