Sister Irene

Irene Summerford was an interesting person. She was a living treasure. Everyone knew her as Sister Irene. I met her while involved with a mural project in the Booker T. Washington Neighborhood in north Melbourne (Old Eau Gallie). The project involved the Booker T. Washington Neighborhood Development Committee, the City of Melbourne, and the Brevard Neighborhood Development Coalition (BNDC). They wanted to soften the effect of a wall that separated a predominately "white” neighborhood from the “black” one where Sister Irene lived. It was to have a Black History theme and involve children from the neighborhood.

That's where Sister Irene came in. She was a key player in a little operation called "Project Light" that sets up regularly in the neighborhood. Many other people get involved. They collect and distribute clothes, food, household goods and love. Kids flock to the activities, meals, skits, puppet shows, gives away goodies, music, etc. Sister Irene and her associates helped me round up participants and drum up enthusiasm for my project. When I complained of a lack of support from certain factions, she told me not to worry about support from others, "Just do it!"

Sister Irene was a dynamo! At one function, someone brought a small boat to use as a prop. Sister Irene stated that she loved fishing, but had never been in a boat. This began a conversation that led to a friendship. I realized Irene represented a rich portion of our local heritage and her story is significant. Irene's family is from Bunnell, Florida. When she was young, she and her kin worked in the fields all week for five dollars each (child labor laws?). They moved to Melbourne in the early sixties because her uncle discovered work that paid five dollars a day. The racial climate in Florida wasn't in the favor of her people.

When Irene was a child in Bunnell she and her sister dug up some sweet potatoes to cook on an open fire for a snack. While the tubers were cooking, her sister started “messing with the fire” and somehow Irene's slip caught on fire. The children panicked. Irene ran and the blaze intensified until she had severe bums over most of her body. In those days segregation was in full force. Not all doctors were willing to attend to "coloreds”. No matter, the family was broke. Irene suffered terribly. She was bed ridden for weeks without medical treatment . . . only home remedies. Infection advanced unchecked until her flesh began to rot. Bone was exposed in areas.

Finally, a nurse was persuaded to check on her. When the nurse entered Irene's room the stench was overwhelming. She didn't even examine Irene, but left immediately to arrange for her admittance to a hospital in Jacksonville. She underwent surgeries and treatment. She survived

As a result of this agonizing adversity, Sister Irene developed a deep, abiding faith and heart of compassion. She devoted her life to "serving the Lord" and her community. She loves fishing with a cane pole. She glows with delight when she describes her approach to the activity. Dreamily, she lists the species she targets . . . all of the breams; blue gills, red ears, shell crackers . . . specks ("You know when someone ain’t from here when they call them crappies") . . . sheep-head . . . mullet. Mullet with a cane pole? She says you find a good "mullet hole," chum the place with chicken meal and bait a small hook with an earth worm dangled close to the surface under a small cork. A big mullet is strong, puts up a good fight and is excellent eating (fresh).

She had only fished from the bank, and I felt it was time she tried doing some flats fishing from a boat. I approached Rodney Smith (fishing guide and publisher of Coastal Angler Magazine) with the proposition of a day on the water with Sister Irene as guest of honor.

He didn't hesitate.The week after Hurricane Frances, Rodney, his son Jake and I had an incredible day. We lost count of the snook, reds, jacks, and goliath grouper that we hauled in. What a great time to take Irene on her first boat ride and introduce her to the brand of fishing that we practice. Hurricane Jeanne was threatening. We predicted a banner day; the fish would be “loading up” for the storm. Sister Irene was a little nervous about the storm. I assured her the trip was worth it. Don’t be too concerned. The hurricane was still a whole day away.

We decided to try Sebastian Inlet where we had scored the week before. By the time we got there, the wind was really picking up. The water was filthy. The tide was blasting in and it was so rough only the Coast Guard would consider cruising through the roiling inlet. It was hard to be optimistic. Sister Irene exclaimed that she was “blessed” just to be out in the boat. The flats boat that we were in could really scoot with a two hundred plus outboard clamped on the transom. The fact that we were close to the water and bounced wildly over thick chop into a 30 mph wind really added to the sensation of speed. Irene was obviously thrilled with the ride and heartily refused offers to slow down or change course. She had a tight grip on her seat, and a grin that threatened to cut her head in half.

There were a lot of other boats and waders trying to eke out one more snook before the blow. Everyone was there but no one was catching fish. We covered a lot of area, but didn't do well. I was impressed that we caught anything at all. Rodney knows. Each man caught a lady fish in honor of the lady on board. Sister "Slay Queen" Irene put two fair sized jacks in the boat and endured a couple of serious assaults on her bait from something huge. We missed chances when big fish slammed our bait along the line of opaque, turquoise, inlet tide water pushing hard and fast into the unusually dark lagoon.

I'd anticipated all-time action and was disappointed. I wanted Sister Irene to get her arms jerked out of their sockets and fill up the boat with her catch. After all, she deserved good fortune for all of her good works.

It was just good fortune to be out on the water with such a fine, unique lady. Everything seemed taut with hurricane anticipation. Marshmallow cream cumulus clouds passed over in fast flying formations. The sky above was so clear that you could see ice crystal cirrus wisps conforming to the dome of the atmosphere like smoky signatures. We saw pelicans, gulls, osprey, sandpipers, a kingfisher, dolphin, manatee, and a couple of funny old men who were securing their boat. The sunset was so beautiful that if you did a painting of it, they would call you a liar.

Sister Irene gave credit where credit is due and praised the Lord! On the drive back to Melbourne Irene described her work and the conditions in many of the low income, "minority" neighborhoods around here. Lack of education, opportunity, family structure, role models, self-esteem and acceptance are taking a toll along with subversive influences of modern culture. Irene points out that drugs and vice in the "Bottoms" couldn't flourish without customers from outside. Law enforcement does not solve the problem. The solution is internal . . . for the individual and the community.

Let's face it; Brevard County was the first place of fatal violence during the civil rights movement. White supremist extremists (KKK) blew up moderate educators Harry and Harriet T. Moore for their involvement with the NAACP. This legacy still needs to be overcome. Naming the “Justice Center” after them isn’t enough. There is a rich heritage in north Melbourne. There are beautiful properties, well established homes, nice families, solid businesses, and good churches. There is a growing determination to see this heritage overpower and outlast the destructive forces arrayed against it.

Sister Irene was one of the champions of this effort. For years she had her eye on a particular piece of property. She prayed for it as a site for a recreation/education center for the kids in the area. This year, the BNDC wrangled enough money, from several sources, to purchase the property. Her prayers are being answered and her dreams are coming true. When her vision is complete, we will all be better off for it. Sister Irene's hope, faith and love were infectious. I hope everyone contracts an acute case. Rodney and I came away from the experience with a desire to see our whole community grow closer to each other. Now, Sister Irene has gone to be with the Lord. We hope it is not the last time we will fish with this “Fisher of Men”.

You were a bright spot in my life. I don't know if you can read this now, or if you are sleeping until the "Great Getting Up Morning". Either way, I'll be seeing you soon. I am so happy that your dream is coming true. The BNDC is making great strides in the Neighborhood and the activity & education center is full already. You have done well, good and faithful servant.