Growing Up on May Avenue: Where Trauma Meets Tenderness
When Michael Menard invited me to read his memoir for publishing, "The Kite That Couldn't Fly," I expected another heavy tale of childhood hardship. Instead, I found myself laughing at stories of mouse-skin gloves sewn by his sister Polly, while also feeling my heart break at moments of startling cruelty - like when his father burned his brother's hand on a hot stove as punishment for stealing.
Life at 118 South May Avenue in 1950s Kankakee, Illinois was a study in contrasts. In their tiny 900-square-foot home, Menard and his 13 siblings experienced both deep love and dark trauma. You can smell the coal furnace in the basement, hear the squeaking floorboards under 14 pairs of feet, and feel the mix of dread and excitement when his father, a former Navy boxing champion with a gift for revenge, came home from the factory each night.
His mother emerges as the family's saving grace - a woman who could make a feast from almost nothing and taught her children that "God loves a thankful heart." While some childhood wounds cut deep, her love and faith provided a counterweight that helped most of her children not just survive, but eventually thrive.
Menard writes with remarkable clarity about the impact of childhood trauma. He explores why some siblings rose above their difficult beginnings while others struggled with addiction. Today, Menard holds 14 patents and founded a successful global software company. Yet he doesn't gloss over the loss of two brothers to drug overdoses, or the ongoing challenges some siblings face with depression, anxiety, and health issues linked to their early experiences.
The book weaves together moments of hardship and joy: sharing one pillow between ten brothers, stealing tomatoes from neighbors' gardens, his older brother Jamie's legendary street fights. Through it all runs a thread about how childhood shapes us - from his father's harsh "lessons" about fighting to his mother's ability to find beauty in small moments, like their weekly ritual of watching for rainbows after storms.
The title comes from a touching story about his mother staying up late for weeks, carefully coloring a giant kite with a scene from Jacob's Ladder. The kite never flew, but won first prize at the town fair for its beauty. Like that kite, this memoir shows how trauma doesn't have to define us - sometimes what seems broken can become something unexpected and remarkable.
What makes this book special is Menard's refusal to paint himself solely as a victim or hero. He writes honestly about the complex realities of growing up with both love and fear, poverty and richness of spirit. His stories had me alternately crying and laughing, while making me think differently about how childhood experiences echo through generations. For anyone trying to understand their own family history or the impact of early trauma, Menard's memoir offers both hard truths and, remarkably, hope for healing.
