Lee's Many Talents and a Scooter Ride into the Family

LEE

Lee Kenneth Brady was born September 1st, 1926, in Troy, North Carolina. He was an only son but lived in close proximity to his extended family, which included several doting aunts. His mother, Bess, was a physical therapist and his father, Francis, a salesman. He was named for his grandfather, Leonidus Bray Brady, who was the owner and proprietor of a country grocery store that Lee worked in throughout his youth. Lee was always big for his age and, when he turned fourteen, he qualified for varsity football. He was the school bus driver at this age also. The school board hired mountain boys to drive because they were the most skilled in maneuvering the treacherous mountain roads. He was an honor student, played the cello in the orchestra and was a member of the debate team. Lee was a scholar and people who knew him well soon realized he was brilliant. Not only did he read any and every category of book but remembered all he had read, as well. When he turned sixteen, he had his father sign for him so that he could enlist in the Navy. He became a Naval pilot flying missions for four years in W.W.II. He remained a staunch patriot his entire life. After his discharge from the service, he married, entered Harding College and was ordained a minister in the Church of Christ. In time, he became the rector of the largest church in Chicago. He enrolled at the University of Chicago to work on an MBA, after which he fell away from the church to become a high school English and History teacher in a ghetto school on the South side of Chicago. He was assigned forty students, all black immigrants from the South. He told me he would put the brightest in the front and teach to them, and the slower students in the back where would pick up whatever they wanted to. By that time, he had three children, two boys and a girl. To make additional money to support his growing family, he sold insurance on the side, using the boiler room of the school as his office. His insurance business prospered. He left teaching and opened his own insurance agency. His business was a huge success, but his marriage failed. I met Lee three years after his divorce. Daddy liked Lee but viewed him with suspicion because he said Lee was a “Chicago Bingle.” The first time I brought Lee home to meet the family, Daddy had just retired and was the new and proud owner of a motor scooter. Everyone was a little scandalized by this. Daddy offered Lee an invitation to take a ride on it—probably hoping he’d take a spill and kill himself. But that ride went down this way: Lee got on, sized up the machine, turned to me and said, “Hop on Di.” As I did, without hesitation. We sped off leaving Daddy standing there in our dust hollering like mad, “Get off, Dolly, get off!” Following this incident, Daddy seemed to accept that Lee had claimed me, and they remained good friends till Daddy’s death. When Daddy had his stroke, it was Lee who encouraged and took Daddy to the hospital. Mom adored Lee, and he loved her to pieces. He named her “Ethel Red.” I’m not exactly sure why the bond was so strong. They were both early risers and they’d drink coffee and smoke cigarettes together. He was one of her biggest fans. When Lee was in the insurance business he was a democratic political activist. He was campaign manager for his best friend, Sy Fox, and remained an ardent liberal his entire life. Of course, his favorite pastime was fishing. After moving to South Florida, we discovered the Florida Keys and one of the best deep-sea fishing grounds in the world. Every Friday, after work, we loaded the station wagon and headed for the Hurricane Motor Lodge on Marathon Key. There, we would spend the entire weekend fishing—all day Saturday and all day Sunday. Lee never tired of it. He was happy if we did or didn’t catch fish. He would say, “We’re going fishing, not catching.” Our most memorable fishing tale was in our first year. We were on a party boat with about twenty other people, King Mackerel fishing. I handed my rod to Lee to go to the lady’s room. The minute I stepped away, a huge Sailfish took my bait. Lee hooked it and landed it. “The Marathon News” printed his picture but we decided not to mount the fish because it was so expensive and besides, we thought, we’d probably land many of these in our life. We’ll, it was a regrettable decision because never did he or I meet up with one again. But, the tale lives on. Lee loved people and he liked to talk. People liked him and those who met him would invariably describe him as articulate, charming, well read, astute, and funny. He adored little babies, especially his own. Christmas was his favorite holiday and every year he religiously and reverently unpacked Mom’s ornaments. He would admire each one anew and hand it to me to hang. She made him two that were his favorites. One had a shamrock on it and another a gold fish. He cherished them. He could be a tough and discriminating businessman but underneath was a heart of gold. His favorite charity was Habitat for Humanity. He had a generous and soft heart, and never said no when a loved one asked for help. He struggled with his personal demons in his life, and ultimately his smoking addiction took his life. He was my biggest cheerleader and supporter, and even though my grief subsides, my memories of the wonderful life we shared seem not to fade. I miss him every day, and will never forget his hearty laugh, freckled skin and beautiful hair. Lee died of lung cancer January 28th, 1995. January 28th is Mom’s birthday. I never viewed this as a coincidence. The morning of Lee’s death I looked out the bedroom window and saw a circle of white birds, diving for fish in the lake behind our home. As I stood watching this beautiful and amazing sight, I had the feeling that it was Mom coming to take Lee with her. It was a highly personal and spiritual moment for me. Two hours later, Lee died. To this day, when a white bird crosses my path, I think of them both, and feel comforted.