Reflections on the Life of Jane Cummings
As delivered by Tom Cummings at Jane's funeral Mass on Monday, November 26, 2001 at Our Lady of the Lake Church, King Ferry, NY.
The last time that this many of Mom's family and friends were together in the same room it was a happy occasion — Aunt Rita's birthday party in September. Even those of you who were not there may know about Mom's famous monologue, Hiram. It's a performance that is, by turns, comic and touching and if you've never seen it … well, you've missed your chance.I was looking through some scrapbooks last week and saw that Mom's performing abilities won her first prize at a countywide public speaking competition when she was in high school. At Rita's party, to see Mom carry on with the tradition of her monologue for the first time in twenty years or more was a like an old familiar ritual. But I know that a few of the younger people at the party wondered what was going on. And after she received her standing ovation and left to change her costume … there must have been at least one young guest who wondered, "who was that woman who just left the room and what was that all about?" Well, she was our Mom and we have a few reflections on what it was all about.
First of all — as a mother, it was mostly about a love that was unconditional and completely self-less. Of course, when we were young we didn't recognize exactly what kind of love we were getting. Fortunately, we've all had the joy of seeing it in her love for her grandchildren Brian, Anna and Jonah.
When we were small, Greg and I would stage puppet shows, ventriloquist shows and magic shows. Later Dan and Molly joined in and we'd create home movies and other performances. Now, in King Ferry in those days, there wasn't much of an audience for the theater, but we could always count on Mom, our number one fan. Once in a while today, someone will say to me, "Isn't it funny that all of you Cummings kids are involved in theater or television or creative endeavors. And of course with all the applause we received from Mom, it doesn't seem that strange to us.
Her self-less love wasn't only for children. You could see that same giving of herself in her dedication to visiting and caring for the sick. She didn't like to drive, but there was never any question that she would — anytime that older relatives and friends needed visiting. Self-less caring runs in Mom's family. Last night after calling hours, Mom's sister Rita invited the family to her home for dinner. Just as we were sitting down to eat, Rita fell and broke her hip. She's having surgery today and our prayers are with her. Needless to say, she is very disappointed not to be here. One thing I know, without Mom, there'll be a lot of visiting hours that need filling as Aunt Rita mends.You don't hear Aunt Rita complain and we never heard Mom complain about her own health. It wasn't her style. Yet, when she and I would talk on the phone, if it even sounded to her as if I might have a cold coming on, she would be very concerned. And at the end of the call, long after I'd forgotten all about sounding a little hoarse, she would always say, "Take care of that cold, Tom. Get some rest."Whenever I would see Mom in person (which wasn't often enough) no matter what I was wearing she would always say how nice it looked on me. She would ask if it were new. And often it was new, because whenever I was getting dressed on a day that I would be seeing her, I always picked out something that I knew she hadn't seen before. I was secretly dressing for Mom; still shamelessly fishing for compliments — seeking applause from the world's most trusted source. (This is a new tie I'm wearing today.)
Mom was very smart. And you already knew that. But it certainly wasn't because she made a point of telling you so. She wore her erudition lightly. In other words, she would never use the word "erudite" in conversation, but she would have no trouble using it if one of her favorite crossword puzzles called for a seven-letter word meaning knowledgeable or learned. Reading through the scrapbooks last week I came across a newspaper clipping that reported she was the valedictorian at Emily Howland School, and that she accomplished that as she completed high school in just three years. She was very sharp. But her choice of how to use her talents was, again, self-less. She became a nurse. And a wife. And a mother.
Mom had a great sense of humor. And you already knew that, too. Our family shares more "in-jokes" than any other family I know. At the dinner table, no matter what Greg would come up with and get us all laughing. You could always count on Mom to "get it." And to join right in with the rest of us as the stories built on one another.
Mom had great faith. Again no surprise to you. Sometimes she would ask me to "say a little prayer" for someone who was sick or having surgery. I always took that to mean "keep him or her in your thoughts." But Mom really meant, "say a prayer."On her nightstand, along with her rosary and missal we found a stack of prayer cards that date back to the funeral of her father, Lee. (She gave me Lee for a middle name.) It's a thick stack of prayer cards and the names on those cards would be familiar to most every one of you here this morning.
I know that Mom prayed for us, her children. And at times she had a lot to pray about. I still need her prayers, so I can only be glad that she now has an even more direct line of intercession.
I'll close with a story that Mom used to like to tell me. It was one that my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Fairbanks, told her about a day when I'd forgotten my lunchbox. Mom brought it in to the classroom and left quickly. A few minutes later when I looked out the big front windows, I could see Mom walking away and I waved to her, but she couldn't see me and I started to cry. In front of the whole class, Mrs. Fairbanks asked, "Tommy what's wrong?" I sighed as I told her that I'd just seen my mom leaving and I was a little sad. I'm not sure why Mom liked to remind me of that story. Probably because although her love was self- less, she still liked to know that she was loved and missed. I'm not sure why I was so sad that day. Even as a five year old, I should have known that I would see my mom again at the end of the day when the school bus brought me home.Today, I'm more than a little sad. In just a few minutes, we'll give Mom one last standing ovation. But the show's not over. There are children who need our unconditional and self-less love, there are the old and the sick who would really appreciate a visit from us, and there are people who need our prayers — whether they know it or not. Mom has given us all the cues. We'll do our best to make sure the show goes on.​ ​