Discovering My Uncle

My Uncle Edgar May passed away yesterday morning. He's been telling us he was going to die soon. But that's what older people do. It starts around 70. The organizing, the filing, the telling of where the papers are. My uncle started laying the foundation for his death by visiting more. He'd enter the door. Stand there silently. He'd hold his arms outstretched and rest them on my shoulders. So he could take a good look at what's happened since the last time he saw me, and what he's going to miss. When he's gone. Then we'd hug, and I wouldn't want it to end. Because nobody hugs like Uncle Edgar. 

I YouTubed my uncle. Up popped a link to a Vermont Pulic Radio interview with my uncle and his sister Madeleine in their seventies about their arrival in America. My uncle first stepped on America's soil when he was a boy. His sister Madeleine was five. Their ship was the SS Manhattan; Appropriately named as they arrived in the mist of New York's harbor outstretched arms of Lady Liberty. Air Force jets shot across the sky. It was 1940, and Italy had just entered the war. In the darkness and fear of that moment, my uncle's ship erupted in applause at the beauty, the grace, the promise this new land would bring. The ship held 900 people. There were 2,000 on board. My uncle's mother was a widow from Zurich. She held her children close and told them that in America, anything is possible. After hearing that, Madeleine wanted curly hair. In American, anything was possible. Even curly hair. Madeleine went on to became Governor of the state of Vermont. 

My uncle became the toast of Washington D.C.,mwith my mother's sister Louise on his arm. I never met her. She died in a car accident when she was thirty, before I was born. Edgar and Louise were pulling out on a dark night, onto a dark road, and they were hit. By a dark car. 

It changed my uncle forever. Shattered every bone in his body. My Aunt Louise was killed instantly. No seatbelt laws in those days. Her head hit the dashboard. I cannot look at a dashboard without thinking of this woman I've never met. The church overflowed with lives she had touched. 

My middle name is Louise. I was raised knowing she is my guardian angel. I've tried to live up to her name. But it's hard to live up to someone who's passed. My family tells me she was perfect.

So was my uncle. To me. Discovering who my uncle was, has taught me that you don't have to die for people to want to live up to you. 

My uncle lived a large life. He won a Pulitzer Prize. That made him really cool to us kids.  But to him, it was more an example of how the world still needs to change. To do more. Than give an award for trying to change the world. He wrote a book in the '60's called The Wasted Americans. He went undercover unveiling issues within our welfare system. 

I thought I knew my uncle. You always think you know someone when you think they'll be around forever. So you can ask them about their life. And then they are gone.

I know the uncle I have loved. But there's a whole other side of him. That other people admire, but I had only heard about.  So I Googled my uncle. 

He served in the Vermont Senate, the Vermont  House of Representatives and as chairman for its Committee on Health and Management. He directed a judicial management study for the Vermont supreme court. He was the head of Special Olympics and had stints as special advisor to the U.S. ambassador to France, inspector general for the federal Office of Economic Opportunity and deputy director for the domestic peace corps. 

He also worked as a reporter for the Buffalo Evening News and the Chicago Tribune. 

Throughout his career, May was a member of several boards including vice president of the American Public Welfare Association, trustee for the University of Vermont, and director of the Vermont Student Assistance Corporation.

He is the author of "The Wasted Americans" and "Dealing with Drug Abuse."  His articles have appeared in magazines ranging from Harper's to Family Weekly. And not so finally, he won the Pulitzer Prize for investigative reporting in 1961.

Edgar is a rare breed. He's the ultimate New England gentleman. His jaw rarely moved when he spoke. He was a politician who looked you in the eye and shook your hand. The weathered skin around his kind eyes and on his palms made you trust him. He lived on an estate called Muckross. A funny name for a glorious fairytale grotto that would make angels drool, if only the pipes worked properly, or a maid would come. 

Edgar is known for his clutter. His kitchen an historical collection of antiquities. I remember as a child being fascinated by his french coffee press. I remember at forty being fascinated by his French Coffee Press. 

He is a man who does not fix it if it isn't broken, or if it is. No need for things that make life easier, if it does not make life better. 

His computer was a huge leap of technological adventurism. His large fingers poking out elegant sentences reserved for long-hand. 

Edgar has always been a man before his time. And the beauty in him is he stayed that way. Preferring phone calls over email, but resorting to email in great effort to stay connected with the younger generation of our family. 

He was smart that way. Because he was the ant-politician politician. He knows how to connect with others, because connection and meaning is what feeds his soul. His whole purpose is to leave this world a better place. 

He has instilled in my children a passion for reading. He instilled in me the personal quirk of leaving classical music playing in my home, even when it's empty. To turn off the television, light the fire, and pick up a book. Each time I do, I think, this is what Edgar would do. 

But now he is dying. In his hospital room at the VA surrounded by loved ones who know him so well they don't need to speak. 

That's when you know you love someone. When no words are needed amongst yourselves to express what a wonderful human being lays before you, different than he was before. Strokes have slowed his brain, his heart is compromised, but his spirit is strong because it knows what it wants. Because he is ready to go. He's said so. For a year. Exhausted from Diabetic complications, his bones aching from the long Vermont winters, and no mountains left to climb. 

My uncle found a beauty in dying. He was peaceful. He felt the touch of his loved ones who never left his side during his final days in the hospital after a series of strokes. My uncle's life is too large for a niece's essay to get it all in. Because I don't know all of the things he did as a young man. I know what he did as an uncle. When we made picnics in his cluttered kitchen and swam in his enormous pond filled with fish that nibbled your toes in the type of cold water only Vermonters know. It is a real man's pond surrounded by a protective forest that fog would blanket in the mornings. I know the piano in his foyer he kept our pictures on that we never knew he had, that mom had sent over the years, of us with crooked teeth that he found perfect. I know the table he'd set in his enclosed sitting area on a table with candles and his recipes from The Silver Spoon we would awe with a glass of red wine. And the worms that lived in the soil in his back yard. They were my favorite part of the visits. Because he wanted us to become one with the earth. He'd teach us as kids it's ok to get our hands dirty. 

It is now his time to run his weathered fingers through the soil. I should be sad. I am. But if I know my uncle, it's the last thing he'd want, for anyone to be sad. However, he would be happier knowing I had learned to use a French Press. 

There will never be another Uncle Edgar. That is what saddens me. Because this world needs one. But letting go of him means a better, more deserving world will get to have him. And part of loving is letting go. 

I look forward to that other world,  with him standing at the door, his arms stretched out with large weathered hands on my shoulders. He'll smile, his deep gravely voice exclaiming how wonderful life is, that we are together again. We'll hug. And in that world, we won't have to let go.

Update on Saturday, December 29, 2012 at 10:15AM by Fried Nerves and Jam

Our uncle created the EdgarMay facility for youth. A note from the EdgarMay center:

It is with great regret that we want to inform you of the passing of our founder, Edgar May.  Edgar died earlier today in Arizona, where he had spent the past few winters.

Suffice to say that Edgar was not only the founder, but also the driving force behind our organization and without his passion, energy, and commitment our Health and Recreation Center would not exist.

I was fortunate to spend numerous visits with Edgar at the Recreation
Center and saw the joy that the vibrancy of the Center brought to Edgar's face.  He would share how proud he was that the pools were filled with senior citizens and children and how great it was to see people of all socioeconomic backgrounds exercising and having fun under the same roof.

Edgar cared deeply about the Recreation Center and its commitment to helping improve the health and well being of everyone in our community.  He was particularly passionate about those who were less fortunate and demanded that our Recreation Center have the most affordable rates in our region, particularly for youth and senior citizens.  Edgar was also personally committed to ensuring that no resident be turned away due to the inability to pay.  Because of this, the Edgar May Health and Recreation Center has provided more than $120,000 in scholarship assistance since it opened in 2006.

I will always remember a warm day this past September when Edgar and I were enjoying a conversation at the picnic tables outside of the Recreation Center. As we were talking, three different people came by using the assistance of a walker or wheel chair.  An elderly woman stopped and thanked Edgar for creating such a wonderful place.  She explained that the therapy pool helped her deal with her significant aches and pains from arthritis and she always looked forward to her time in the pool.  As they left, Edgar's smile was ear to ear and he shared what a tremendous experience creating the Recreation Center was.

While we are saddened by this loss, we will continue to strive to make sure this Center properly reflects and honors the legacy of the great man whose name it bears.

Rest in peace, Edgar. And, thank you.

Update on Saturday, December 29, 2012 at 10:34AM by Fried Nerves and Jam

A Beautiful Obituary by the Rutland Herald

SPRINGFIELD - Edgar May, a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, a Vermont state senator, and chief operating officer of Special Olympics, from Springfield, Vermont, who dedicated his life to public service, died December 27, 2012 at the Southern Arizona Veterans Administration Hospital in Tucson, Arizona, where he made his winter home.

The cause of death was a series of strokes, according to his sister, Madeleine May Kunin. He was 83. His family and loved ones were at his bedside in his final days.

May was born in Zurich, Switzerland, on June 27, 1929. He immigrated to the United States, debarking from the SS Manhattan in New York City, on June 10, 1940, with his widowed mother and sister. The Jewish family left Switzerland because of the threat of the Holocaust. May, who recently discovered his green card, was proud to be an immigrant. He and his sister often quoted their mother's words, "Anything is possible in America."

May graduated from Princeton, N.J., high school in 1948. During his high school years, he lived with a family on a dairy farm in Skillman, New Jersey. He recalled that experience as a special part of his life, when he learned the importance of hard work, rising every morning at 4 a.m. to milk the cows and achieving his independence.

He attended night school at Columbia University of General Studies while working as a file clerk for The New York Times. A course in journalism taught by Prof. John Hohenberg, inspired him to become a reporter. He completed his studies at the Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University, where he received a B.S. degree, summa cum laude. He was inducted into the school's Hall of Achievement in 1997.

He was a veteran of the Korean conflict and served as a speechwriter for military officers, while stationed in Chicago. He became a resident of Springfield in 1965, after he purchased Muckross Park, which became his life long, much beloved home. He treasured listening to its roaring waterfall and spent many summer days swimming laps, arranging picnics at his pond, and tramping through the woods. His nephews and his great-nephews caught their first fish in Edgar's pond.

His journalistic career began when he worked as a freelance writer for several years. His first reporting job was for the weekly newspaper, The Bellows Falls (VT) Times. He later worked for the Fitchburg (MA) Sentinel and The Buffalo Evening News. While in Buffalo he won a Pulitzer Prize in 1961 for local reporting for a fourteen-part series on the public welfare system, titled, "Our Costly Dilemma." Other awards include the Walter A. Bingham Award of the Buffalo Newspaper Guild for outstanding journalism in Western New York; Page One Award Buffalo Newspaper Guild, and Best Feature Award from the New England Weekly Press Association.

The series resulted in a book, "The Wasted Americans," in 1964, which brought him to the attention of the Lyndon Johnson administration. Sargent Shriver asked him to join The War on Poverty. He served as Inspector General of the Office of Economic Opportunity and fondly recalled establishing Head Start Programs throughout the country. He was also Deputy Director of VISTA, the national service program designed to prevent poverty.

His government service initiated a life long friendship with the Shriver and Kennedy families. After May's wife, Louise Breason May, died in an automobile accident in Springfield, VT, and he was seriously injured, his physicians advised him that it was unlikely that he would work again, but he proved them wrong.

Shriver invited him to be his special assistant in the American Embassy in Paris. During those years, he lived in the same apartment building as the writer, James Jones, and became part of a social group of writers who enjoyed many evenings of fine wine and hearty camaraderie. He was a Senior Consultant to the Ford Foundation, 1970 -1975, where he wrote for Corrections Magazine. In addition to prison reform, he focused on drug abuse prevention and enhancing citizen participation.

He married his second wife, Judith Hill May, in France, where they met, and returned to Muckross Park in Vermont in 1973. Although they divorced in 2001, they enjoyed life at Muckross Park for many years and provided a welcoming second home to the Kunin clan of nephews and nieces.

May served in the Vermont House of Representatives, 1974-1982, and the Vermont Senate, 1984-1990, where he chaired the Senate Appropriations Committee. After leaving the legislature, he expressed his appreciation for fine food by becoming associated with NECI, the New England Culinary Institute. He became a skilled pastry chef and wrote a manuscript of a cookbook for diabetics.

He began a new career in Washington as COO of Special Olympics, working closely with Eunice Shriver, from 1993-1995. Those years gave him a special appreciation of the needs of the disabled and their untapped potential.

When he returned to Vermont, he was not ready for retirement, and turned his energy to revitalize the city of Springfield, which had experienced a decline because of the loss of its highly regarded machine tool industry.

When the city received a grant from the state in return for situating a prison there, May successfully lobbied the Springfield Board of Selectmen to use the grant to build a health and recreation center for the community in an abandoned Jones & Lamson machine tool building. He spearheaded an ambitious fundraising effort, was personally involved in the construction of the center, and recruited a substantial amount of donated material and volunteer labor, including female prisoners from the local correction center.

He took great pleasure in watching groups of children cavorting in the pool, and seeing elderly citizens step carefully into the therapy pool. The community recognized his contribution by naming the center in his honor - "The Edgar May Health and Recreation Center" - on his birthday in 2009.

He continued to serve as a confidant and mentor to his many friends and neighbors from all walks of life, helping them to solve problems, both personal and political. He was proud to be a Vermonter, and took great pleasure in its beauty and admired its successful form of citizen government. He was seldom at a loss for words when discussing the events of the day.

He was very close to his family, including his sister, who he escorted down the aisle of the Vermont House of Representatives when she was inaugurated Governor for her first term in 1985. He took particular pleasure in the accomplishments of his nephews and nieces, and formed a loving relationship with his dear friend, Sarah Clay.

He is predeceased by his first wife, Louise Breason May. Survivors are: Madeleine May Kunin and her husband, John W. Hennessey of Burlington, VT; Arthur S. Kunin, of Shelburne, VT; Maggie Lockridge, of Rancho Mirage, CA; his nieces, Micaela Bensko of Valencia, CA; Julia Kunin, of Brooklyn, New York, his nephews, Peter B. Kunin and his wife Lisa Kunin, of South Burlington, Vermont; Adam W. Kunin and his wife Jane Kunin, of Shelburne, Vermont, Daniel Kunin, of Montreal and Burlington, Vermont; James Lockridge and his wife Victoria, of Burlington, Vermont; his former wife Judith Hill May, of Napa, California; his god-daughter, Elena Schlossberg, of Haymarket, Virginia; his great-niece, Sophia Lockridge of Burlington; his great-nephews, Will Kunin, David Kunin, Sara Kunin, all of Burlington; Samuel Kunin and Jacob Kunin, of Shelburne.

The family wishes to express their gratitude for the love and care provided to Edgar May, by his good friends, in Green Valley, Arizona: Peggy and Gunnar Bonthron, and Sharon and Gary Rezac Andersen.

In lieu of flowers, donations in honor of Edgar May's memory, may be made to: Edgar May Health and Recreation Center, 140 Clinton Street, Springfield, VT, 05156,www.myreccenter.org, info@myreccenter.org.

A celebration of Edgar May's life, will be held at the Edgar May Health and Recreation Center in Springfield, Vermont on Sunday, January 6, at 2 p.m.