Judy Kassouf Cummings

The Orange and Brown Bobble Head, cracked along one side, seems scarcely a thing of value. But, to me, it signifies a journey toward healing. In fall of 1963, my father died suddenly of a heart attack. I was 14-years-old. As an only child living with an erratic, demanding mother, Dad had been my protector and hero. The news enveloped me in darkness. I wanted to hide from the world forever. But then, unexpectedly about a month later, a call came asking if I would perform as part of the half-time show entertainment at a Cleveland Browns vs. Philadelphia Eagles football game. Although I wasn't eager to do so, it did seem as if a shaft of light had entered my dark world. I wondered, as only a child can, “Maybe, if I do this, Mom will feel happier.” I accepted the invitation.

It was November 3, 1963, the day before what would have been my father's 59th birthday. I recall a chilly day, bright skies, and a large, boisterous crowd. A slender teenaged girl in a pink sequined costume stepped forward during the half-time announcement. I shook, not only from the 48 degree temperatures, but from anticipation and fear.

Running onto the 50 yard line marker, I held two silver batons. The performance was flawless. The crowd rose to their feet and applauded. There were 60,671 people in attendance on that day, but I performed for the one who wasn't in the crowd, my father.

Running off the field, while gazing up at the blue sky, I nearly collided with a Zeus-like figure. Later I learned his name: Jim Brown, #32, Fullback/ Future Hall of Famer.

So much in life is broken -- like this Bobble Head souvenir. We piece together what is left, gaining strength from brokenness to move forward and create a new life.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Judy Cummings offers more of a half-time show perspective in her poignant story of loss. As a follow-up, click on the link to watch her jaw-dropping television performance. 

In Judy Cumming's own words:

 I was on the Ted Mack Show, led the Rose Bowl Parade, performed at the Hollywood Palladium and also worked at Radio City Music Hall for two shows... but -- this story really isn't about any of that.  Rather it is about the love that I had for my father. When I stop to think about it - that is all life really is about.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVgKFrovWH4

What happened with the Ted Mack Show?  Mr. Mack was the most lovely man.  He and his wife never had children of their own.  Instead, they decided to magnify the talents of other people's children.  I was one of these. 

On the Mack show, the winner was determined by the number of postcards received.  I believe that the week my performance ran there was also a large tap-dancing troupe -- with about 25-30 little girls squeezed into pink tutus.   The parents of these children - plus their teachers, aunts, uncles, grandparents and great-grandparents - managed to send in far more postcards than my relatives did.  So, while I didn't officially win --  I DID officially win because a few years later, when I was beginning my sophomore year at OSU, the producers of Radio City Music Hall were scouting for a baton twirler.  They asked to review all the kinescopes of the Ted Mack Show and chose me to be their guest performer.  

Mr. Mack knew my mother was a widow and a waitress.  He observed that although I was a bright student, we struggled to make college tuition.  To help, he reached into his own pocket and offered  $500 to put toward my college education.  It may not seem like much today - but it went a long way back in 1968.