"It's all on rails."
Jack Sumner
My dad took me to Disney world and as we were waiting in line to ride the ride of the Mississippi riverboat my dad looked at me after I said I couldn't wait to get on it and he told me you know it's on rails right? I said what do you mean? He said I've been standing here in line for the past hour watching that thing go around and around using the same path and I've realized that boat is on rails. Then my dad said this whole place is on rails, that submarine ride we just rode it's on rails, those canoes down there are probably on rails, this whole place is just an illusion son.
That was a profound moment for a 12-year-old to take in. But it stuck with me forever and it gives me an idea of what is really important in this world. What is real and what is fake or not worth our attention.
So, we must discern that which goes before us. What is real? What is an illusion? What is here to trip us up from advancing spiritually to the next level of growth? How do you avoid the pitfalls of the flesh and the lies they present to tell us to trust in them over what is truly important? What is TRULY important? Do we have the right focus? The right perspective? Are we so absorbed by the trees that we lack the ability to see the forest?
Think. Don't just react or you too will be caught in the illusion and lose perspective. Enjoy who you ride the rails with and not just the rails so to speak.
Being on rails can also be applied to our life, and my dads life. Being on rails also can be related to being on purpose and I believe in many ways we all get the illusion of being in control and it gives us the forest for the trees effect. My dad, you see, was also on rails. The final days he endured were on rails. The pain he endured was on rails. And the peace he now enjoys is also on rails. It was purpose. God's purpose. "For I know the plans I have for you says the Lord....." The scripture goes. His pain brought us all together. It was hard to watch and harder for my dad to go through. But with us so close to Easter here we should know about people suffering for the good to take place. I'm not necessarily saying dad suffered for you and I, but I am saying all he went through, both on that day and the days when he really ran the show all had the very good and loving purpose of affecting so many lives in so many positive ways. Bringing so many together that previously never knew one another. The saying goes "A butterfly flaps its wings and it changes the course of the world." And my father flapped his wings often. There was purpose in all my dad did, and if he was sitting in the audience and perhaps he is, he wouldn't like this all that much because he was never one to blow his own horn unless his nose was running. He would more or less say "All I want is something to tell people I'm dead. That way you won't be answering any more magazine subscription calls for me.", and boy did that happen often. The thing is even though we are all on rails, we are the engineer and drive the train of our life and believe me, we are quite capable of driving it off the rails and making a train wreck of our lives. Dad handled many train wrecks so to speak that were not of his own making. Not being perfect in the flesh he also handled some of his own but the thing about that is he handled it himself and he even let you know he was going to handle it himself. He would start by pointing an index finger across the table or across the room and begin his plan of action by saying "Let me tell you one damn thing...." And then he would proceed with your undivided attention. He took charge like that when he noticed the ride was getting ready to go off the rails so to speak. He did this very well and because of that, his "let me tell you one damn thing....." Is the stuff of legend within the family. But you see, if we sat here in a informal setting just discussing my dad we would come up with so many "legends" that it would become a new series on the history channel. I am here to blow my dads horn for him because I know he wouldn't. I hope I end up sounding like his favorite saxophone player, Boots. Randolph, and right now is my version of Yakkety Sax for you.
I at times get people who come up to me and say "Your last name is Sumner? Are you related to Fill in the blank Sumner?". My response is almost always, if you didn't come from my dad then you aren't related to me in this part of the woods. All the other Sumner's related to my father's family originated with my family in Virginia. You see, my dad was born in Grand Rapids, Michigan and went through the Great Depression there as a boy with seven other siblings. He told me he worked cleaning up a movie theater for a dime an hour in order to help the family get by. In contrast, my mother said she knew nothing about the Great Depression because she lived on a farm in Princess Anne County entertaining herself by dressing up cats as her father tended to turkeys, chickens, and crops. So the depression was a non factor for her house hold.
After that part of American History, World War Two came upon us and dad joined the Navy. He shared stories of being on the island of Saipan and watching movies on bedsheets only to later find behind those sheets at a distance the still warm butts on the ground of Japanese cigarettes from the enemy who also enjoyed the movies in covered positions. His place of embarkation to the pacific theater was the now defunct Pungo airfield, a location in close proximity to my mother's farm. One hot and muggy day, my father boarded a county bus and walked down the aisle to find a seat. There was a seat available next to an attractive young girl and he went to take that seat but before doing so, he leaned over her and opened the window to allow some air to cool her off because she was sitting next to it. A conversation ensued and my dad was invited to a church social that afternoon. Being new to the area he agreed and the person who asked him, my future mother, was no deterrent either. That day was the beginning of what was to become a marriage of 72 years that was only affected by the "until death do us part" clause in the contract and I am not so sure the two of them are going to honor that aspect of their relationship and so as far as I'm concerned the clock continues to tick on this matrimonial partnership.
The courtship originally had it's detractors. A story my dad shared with my mother standing and nodding in agreement involved a good night kiss on the front porch of the home that now represents the organization "Hope Haven" down by the Virginia Beach Court complex. Well, my grandfather affectionately known as "Pop pop" witnessed the public display of affection and took to his shot gun, chasing my father all the way down a long gravel drive and into the darkness of North Landing Road. Coming back to the porch he turned to my mother and told her he was going to kill my dad and have my mother thrown in jail for their actions that night. Today and in the years that passed after that it was a source of much laughter because as a wedding gift my mom's dad provided a plot of land that he would help my dad and a few select individuals build a home upon at 1024 Kempsville Road in Norfolk, Virginia. Perhaps some of you have had the opportunity to see pictures of the construction back in 1946 when Kempsville road was dirt and surrounded by open field.
That portion of Kempsville Road was the next intersection down from Newtown Road on Virginia Beach Blvd., and right down the street so to speak. It was at that intersection that my dad started the business that would give him the provider status we in the family tend to brag about. Not in the "we're rich" kinda way but in the "Man, Dad sure was a hard worker and dedicated businessman. We owe him so much"kinda way. With that being said, yes, we were all very rich indeed to be blessed with such a man as our patriarch. Dad was a mechanic and his ability was inherited and was demonstrated in his son Johnny and his grandson John Sumner the third who both made and make their living with things that have four wheels and the mechanical aspects of them. When dad sold the station in 1982 he claimed the reasons were many but one of the ones at the top was fuel injection, "If it ain't gotta carburetor I don't want nothing to do with it." He told me. Myself, well, I became auto illiterate mainly because I knew my dad and brother were astute enough to handle things on that end and that's my story and I'm sticking to that one.
My dad upon retirement didn't retire from life. He was involved in many things including the Shriners who are actually Freemasons of the 32nd degree who gather for events that serve to help crippled and burned children. In 1975 my dad was involved in a Shriner parade unit called the patrol which basically marched in parades. By that time he had been in that unit for years and had pretty much got tired of walking parade routes and he and around twenty of his fellow nobles decided to create their own motorized unit. So they all purchased MG Midgets and created a competition team for parades. Dad initially contemplated joining a motorcycle unit but a dream involving an accident caused him to prefer the four wheel kind of parade vehicle.
From 1975 until my dads fateful day of having a massive stroke while driving that MG in 1998 he was a integral part to the unit called the Mini Motors, his car being the KMM 20, for it's license plate. They did parades up and down the east coast from Myrtle Beach to Atlantic City and parts in between doing all of their competition practice at the old Met Park parking lot and later at Lake Taylor high school where these little cars would do figure eights and such like little maroon Blue Angels on four wheels that would translate to oohs and ahhhs by impressed parade goers during the finished product. He was just as good as the best driver and it was meant to be that way because they trained diligently.
That day in 1998 changed everything for my dad and our family. Coming home from an auto dealership while driving that MG he had a major stroke pulling onto Battlefield Boulevard and was struck broadside by a Ford Explorer going at least 55 miles an hour. To me, any other man would have been gone from this world but it was told to me by the gentleman who assisted my dad from the car that he managed to remove himself under his own power and even paused to inspect the damage before taking a seat and awaiting the ambulance. Once at Norfolk General though he had slipped into a coma and was in a semi-conscious state from April 28th to Father's Day of that year when he came to so to speak and knew who everyone in the room was including myself who before this day was being constantly referred to as his brother Eugene. From that moment forward the man who cared for and guided by example as well as deed, his entire family as well as great number of others, would be now cared for by his family. A long time ago at the beginning of my mom and dads time together he told her "You're going to quit your job, you're going to stay home and raise the children as we see fit and take care of this home. For you I will provide all you need to do it. We will do this together as man and wife and we will be this way forever." But now following the accident, it was in my mothers court and she would look at me so many times talking to me about how she couldn't do this that or the other thing and at the exact same time, she was doing this that or the other thing exactly as it should be done. Even dad himself told me in a conversation after the accident that it wasn't his call anymore and that you're gonna have to ask your mother, and at times I could see a smile when he said that because he wasn't nervous about the concept of Peggy Sumner handling things, but instead quite content and proud that he had left an example that she took and made for herself so she could be the head of the household in a very successful if not outwardly confident way that could be easily perceived as self deprecating humility. Dad left us on the rails. Dad left everything not as a train wreck but as a family still capable of loving and coming together and with a compassionate and giving heart as well as a work ethic meant to support those dependent upon us. He would be an excellent example of the man whom in the book of Matthew was told by the Master,"Well done my good and faithful servant. You have been faithful with a few things. I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your masters happiness." And the master for my dad is God. The few things are those obligations and family he had here on earth and the many more responsibilities will be no doubt the serving in spirit as the guiding hand and protection he will give all who loved and knew him as that angel we always desire to have over our shoulder.
My dad was much more than all of this, especially to me. But also to everyone out here. My brother, his wife, their children and their children's children. My sister whom he now is in communion with in spirit and her children, Chris, Andrea, and Suzi and their children. The legacy of John Sumner lives on as well in name as my brother, John Sumner Jr., his son John the 3rd, and even further, his son John the 4th better known as Jack, carry the name of the Sumner point of origin from Kempsville Road. There are all of us whom he touched and created memories with too numerous to mention up here but we all have them. I suggest you remember those for unexpected conversations later in your life where men of good character are being made the topic of discussion and when the time is right you interject with an evidential story about John Edward Sumner senior or Jack as so many knew him. Let his legacy continue to effect others in how to laugh, love, and live. He will always be my dad but he will also forever be everyone's "Jack Sumner". This is not hyperbole'........This is my dad.
Amen
I love you Dad
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