This weeks commentary doesn’t have a lot to do with NASCAR, but it’s personally one of the most painful, emotional and important ones I’ve ever done, so I hope you’ll read on, because I am trying to make some points, I feel, that NASCAR fans everywhere need to know.

On July 12th, 2001 I stood on a grassy knoll in the hot Florida sun. I was wearing my new genuine US Army issue, class “A” uniform, black wool beret snug on my head. As is often the case during summer in Florida, an occasional shower would pass over, followed soon thereafter by the sun. Steam rose from the concrete at the bottom of the knoll in front of me, as well as my uniform. The black wool beret along with my uniform, seemed to shrink as it would dry out and between that and the heat, it made for a very uncomfortable two hours as I stood there at sometimes a stiff military parade rest and at others the position of military attention.

But the thought of me being uncomfortable and trying to find some relief, never crossed my mind.

You see, the knoll I stood on, on that hot, steamy, July afternoon was in the Florida National Cemetery in Bushnell Florida. I was there to honor a young man from my platoon, a young man who God had called home way too soon. The occasion on this afternoon was his, along with his young wife’s, burial into that hallowed ground.

Roy Eugene Cummings was 30, his wife Wendy, 31. On July 8th at around two-thirty in the morning, Roy and Wendy’s car was struck by a 24 year old drunk driver, while on their way home from the Pepsi 400 at the Daytona International Speedway. The couple were killed instantly. In perhaps a sad bit of poetic justice, the drunk driver was killed as well.

Their deaths didn’t warrant more than a one paragraph tidbit in the local paper, not even their names were mentioned. The world and NASCAR didn’t come to a halt to honor these young people. There weren’t any magazine tributes, no silent laps, no fingers held aloft. Nor any mention for that matter, of the three children ages, 1, 3, and 10 who now have no parents.

So myself and the members of my platoon of Battery A, 2 of the 265th Air Defense Artillery of the Florida Army National Guard honored them and stood there in the sultry Florida summer weather while a pastor followed by a US Army Chaplin said their final words over the flag draped caskets. We would have stood there all day , if we had too, because we did it for Roy and Wendy.

Roy was a huge NASCAR fan and ever bigger Dale Earnhardt fan, so I know that Roy was happy after being at Daytona and seeing Junior win the Pepsi 400 on that final fateful night.

An ex-US Marine Roy had a “Semper-Fi” spirit that he seemed carry with him everywhere he went. Roy hadn’t been with our unit all that long, a little less than a year, but in that short time, I grew to have a tremendous amount of respect for this young man. He was a guy I’d trust with my life, fight beside in combat, anytime, anywhere. There seemed to be very little Roy couldn’t master.

I do have to admit though that I was also a little jealous of Roy, at times, because he seemed to display characteristics I find lacking in a lot of men, especially in myself.

And in that respect Roy taught me a great deal.

Originally from West Virginia, Roy was a rough and tumble, “man’s man”, a guy who’d take you down to the ground and wrestle you if you got in his way, then get up laughing and shaking off the dirt, ready to buy you a beer. He never did anything half-way, his whole life seemed to be full-throttle, “damn the restrictor plate” full speed ahead. 110 percent, all the time. If you were his friend, he’d defend you to the end, a non-Earnhardt or non-NASCAR fan, well, can you say WWF takedown? To get to one of his friends you first had to go through him.

His love of his family, his country and the sport of NASCAR were enviable.

His love of his family was evidenced the last time I saw him at our unit in Melbourne Florida, with Wendy. They were holding hands and smiling at each other like two high school kid’s on their way to the prom.

I can’t even remember the last time I held my wife’s hand.

Yes I learned a lot from Roy.

And now we have to ask ourselves: What can we all learn from this tragedy? So perhaps we can put some kind of positive light on this horrible event. Maybe, I think, a great deal.

Number one, if that 24 year old driver had not been drinking and then made the decision to get behind the wheel of an automobile, then you wouldn’t be reading this right now. We’ve all done it, I, you, we all have. But next time I’ve had just a few beers and try and get behind the wheel of a car, my thoughts will turn a one year old child who now wonders when mommy and daddy are coming home.

That leads me to number two: It CAN happen to us. We have to admit that to our selves. Death is an ugly visitor who can come to us at ANY time and we have to make some measure for that.

Right now, the future for Roy and Wendy’s children might be a little shaky. Not necessarily financially (Roy had a large amount of life insurance through the military), but because their parents never sat down and asked themselves one single question: “What if?”

Now I’m certainly not faulting them for that, Roy and Wendy were no different than the rest of us, but, whereas Roy and Wendy can’t answer that question for their children, we can for ours. All of us who are parents, need to sit down with our spouse or significant other as soon as possible, tonight if you can, and ask one single question: “What if?”

No one likes to face it, death, but in this instance, we have to, if only for our children's sake. Ask yourselves; “Who would we want to raise our children if something happened to us.” No it’s not an easy thing to talk about, but a necessary one. My wife and I have and we are comfortable with our decision. But then we all need to go one step further: let those wishes be known.

On a shelf above my washing machine at home, there’s an old green metal Army ammo box. It’s waterproof and can take just about anything you can dish out at it. Inside that box are our wills, powers of attorney, copies of life insurance policies and such. In the event something should happen to us, members of our family know where to find these documents. Just in case.

Maybe that’s a good question to ask ourselves more; “What if?”

Is everything in place if the un-thinkable happened to you today? What if, you decide to take a cab home, or call someone to come and get you after you’ve had a few drinks. I think there’s a set of parents somewhere in Orlando who have since asked themselves that question concerning their own 24 year old son.

There’s one instance I never want to use that question in however. Every time I see a Winston Cup driver get into a race car without some kind of device to protect themselves whether it be HANS or Hutchens or whatever, I get mad as hell. The technology is there guys, we know it can save your life, use it. Get over this “It can’t happen to me” attitude, realize that it CAN happen to you . Stop and ask yourself: “What if?”

Because, I never again want to have to stand at turn four at Daytona and ask myself that question: “What if?”. Just like I never want to have a reason to stand in the hot Florida sun on a grassy knoll in a class “A” uniform ever again.

Roy was a huge part of
Battery A 2/265 ADA Unit of the Florida Army National Guard's success
(photo: Annual Training April 2001 Fort Stewart Georgia, Roy is standing third from the left)

One last thing I want to mention about Roy.

Every year when my Army National Guard unit goes on our two week Annual Training or “AT”, several of us pack guitars to play when we have some free time and we’re not in the field, or “in garrison” as we call it. Now I’m not the world’s best guitar player and I’m an even worse singer, but we always enjoy sitting around in the evenings playing and singing. We always attract a small crowd and it’s always been lot of fun.

This year when we gathered for the first evening after eight days in the field at Fort Stewart Georgia, I “debuted” a song I had just learned to play. Roy sat in the background of the crowd. When I started to play , Roy began to sing the song. I’m sure I wasn’t the only person in the crowd who had chills when we heard the voice coming from Roy. He actually sang it better than the original person did. Yet another thing Roy did very well.

Every evening from then on, I played the song, while Roy sang it and every night the crowd grew larger and larger and in turn the requests for the song and others, became more and more frequent.

One of the most pleasant memories I‘ll have of Roy Cummings will be the sound of his voice drifting on the Georgia breeze on those warm Spring evenings.

The song? “With Arms Wide Open”, by the band Creed. With some apologies to Scott Stapp, lead singer of that band, Roy sang the song better than the Scott ever did. And now every time I hear it, I hear Roy singing and although it may sound a little corny to some, I envision Roy and Wendy holding hands and smiling at each other like two high school kid’s on their way to the prom, being welcomed into Heaven by God, with arms wide open.

Finally, if you waded through all my ramblings this week and I’ve caused you to think a bit, then I thank you. Because although we can’t erase the past, we can learn from it and I think that’s the most we can hope for from this senseless tragic, event.

Besides, this entire commentary, you’re reading and hopefully learning from it and my writing it, was something we all did for Roy and Wendy.

Editors Note:

(December, 23, 2002)
I was revisiting this page and re-reading the commentary I wrote right after the funeral this morning. I realized it still hurt, the pain of the loss is still there. We had a one year memorial service this past July and there were still tears, still pain.

The unit went to the same place for our annual training this year and when the guitars were first brought out, we sat an empty chair in the center of our circle. I played the song" Arms Wide Open" and no one sang. Although I could swear I heard Roys sweet voice whispering through the trees.

September 11th occured shortly after Roy and Wendy's accident. Our unit was activted in support of Florida Gov. Jeb Bush's Anti-terrorism task force. Part of what we did was travel around the state and support local law enforcment agencies in various ways.

As part of this we all assisted with many,many arrests for DUI. Every single time we said the words "This is for Roy and Wendy". I still spend my time going to court and testifing in these cases.

But I don't mind.

Because I do it for Roy and Wendy.