Tom Sonday

We have received some amazing memories over the past couple of days, both by email and by comments on the blog. Dad wants to share the emailed memories with you all. If you wanted yours kept private and it’s up here, please let me know and I’ll pull it down immediately. I’m going to post some tonight and then spread other emails out over the next few days. PLEASE KEEP THE TOM MEMORIES COMING! He loves to read them, and so do we.

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My heart sank when you shared the news with family and friends of your disease, but you’ve lifted it over and over again with the events and stories you, Charlotte, Jess, Ben and Becca have shared in your blog. I never thought I would know so much about bees! My heart breaks now, but I know everything will be ok. You face new beginnings, and new opportunities.

While distance has separated us for a long time, the early years we shared form so much of who I am, I always carry a part of you with me. There were so many long days while visiting Grandma at the farm where the boredom could only be broken when we knew the Sonday’s were coming over. I always felt like I had six older brothers – Ken and Kerry, John and Joe, and you and Jim. And I know there were many times when you didn’t want to get stuck having to play with me and Suzi, but you were always nicer to me about it than Kenny and Kerry were. I remember catching frogs, playing hide and seek in the corn fields, getting in trouble for playing hide and seek in the corn fields, and sneaking into the barn when we knew your mom didn’t want you there. I think I broke my collar bone playing kick the can in your front yard. Of course I can’t get through a holiday gathering without a table with a puzzle going. I have trouble finding anyone in the west who knows how to play euchre, but every once in a while I can find someone else from the midwest. Nothing comes close to the DeLong marathons though. And every time I play a little Electric Amish I think of you. Okay, I confess, I don’t play Mennonite Girl very often, but when I do, I remember you playing it for me the first time.

So now you are ready to enter the next phase of life. I wish you peace. Give my love to Ken, if you can, and know you are a part of so many of us. You will not be forgotten by us and we will look forward to when we meet again.

My memories are of a father who was extremely proud of his children and who advocated for their giftedness ~ that was so impressive !

Tom is named after his Uncle Tom, and that immediately created confusion as to which Tom we happened to be talking about. So the solution was simple: Uncle Tom would be called Big Tom, and Tom Sonday would henceforth be known as Little Tom. Fifty-one years later, we still sometimes use those terms to differentiate.

My favorite story about Little Tom happened in 1959. Mom and I went to California in early August, and 18-month-old Tom stayed at the farm with Grandpa Lester and Grandma Myra. One hot afternoon, Grandma took a cool drink to Grandpa, who was working in a field. She took Little Tom in the car with her. She parked the car in the field, and left Tom to wait in the car. Tom, even at that age, was curious about everything and he moved the gearshift out of park. The car began to roll, with Tom inside, and Grandma in hot pursuit!

It was on that trip that we bought Tom’s first car. We hauled it all the way from Glendale, California!

When we got home from California, we naturally headed straight for the farm. We were anxious to see Little Tom once again. We were in for a big surprise—-he wouldn’t have anything to do with us. In two short weeks, he had completely forgotten whom he belonged to! He got over that pretty quickly, though. When we got him home, he went right to his room—so he hadn’t forgotten that!

This incident took place at Indian Village School. Doors to the classrooms opened into the hallway. Studious Tom, walking along reading a book, walked right into an open door. Even his classmates remember that one. He had a nice big gash across his forehead, and the school called Mom to come get him. It was then that it was discovered that Tom had forgotten to submit the check for the school insurance. But back then, medical bills were still pretty small.

One day, I had an errand to run and I took Tom with me in the car. He was probably about five at the time. I had the sprinkler going on the front lawn. As we backed out, Tom wanted to know why I was watering the grass. Without really thinking, I said, “To make it grow.” Wrong answer. His next question was, “why do you want to do that—-then you’ll just have to cut it!”

One more adventure with Grandma Myra should be mentioned. Tom decided that using a squirt gun on his Grandmother would be fun. As it turned out, it was fun—-for Grandma! Tom aimed, but never got a shot off. Grandma had him on the deck and was sitting on him before he knew what happened.

My contact with you, Tommy, was minimal and infrequent, our connection being that I worked for your wife. But I have been reading the blog regularly, and have been privileged to sit by this little window to your life and get to know you a bit.

Every morning as I leave my house, I stop for a moment by the bee balm and asters, and marvel at the winged, buzzing creatures thereon. And every morning, I think of you, the King Bee, the man in the bee shirt, Charlotte’s honey, and I smile.

I believe the measure of a man is not by his possessions or wealth but by his day-to-day living: the way in which he shows love to family and friends, the way in which he expresses and uses his God-given talents, and the ways by which he touches lives along his journey in the giving of himself. There is no question in my mind that you have lived this kind of life. The out-pouring of love in the blog and e-mail responses gives testimony to this.  I love you and am so proud of you.