Her Last Wish: Pay Off Kids’ Lunch Debt

As Cathy Cummings looked around at the $2,500 worth of flowers in her home, she realized the kindness she received as a result of her diagnosis of gallbladder cancer could be turned to better use. By the time the 61-year-old Oklahoma City restaurateur received the news, the cancer was already in nine places throughout her body. She died February 11, 2024, at 62, but not before asking for her family to do something about school lunch debt in the state.

“We were talking about what she wanted to get done before she died,” her husband Sean Cummings says. “The flowers were beautiful, and we were obviously grateful for the kindness of friends, but Cathy had a passion for child nutrition, and it started after a conversation with our bartenders more than ten years ago.”

Sean and Cathy were both Kansas City natives who moved to Oklahoma and opened restaurants; Cathy’s Italian joint, Vito’s, and Sean’s eponymous Irish pub occupy the same building along one of Oklahoma City’s busiest corridors. They also shared a passion for progressive politics, including successful and unsuccessful runs for office.

While running for lieutenant governor in 2014, Cathy had the conversation with her bartenders about their children’s school lunch programs. Troubled by what she heard, she applied for a job as a “lunch lady” in a local middle school in the Oklahoma City Public Schools. After her hiring, she was appalled at the quality of much of the food, but more importantly, it was the public shaming of children whose families couldn’t afford their lunches that energized her.

“In one school, the kids who had debt were fed a cheese sandwich and a carton of milk,” Sean says. “It was the least the school could do, but it also let everyone else know that the kids were from poor families, and in Cathy’s mind, it indicated which young girls were even more vulnerable than their peers.”

Cathy was a master of hospitality, and “shame-feeding” as she called it, was antithetical to who she was. Raised in her parents’ Pumpernickel Deli in Kansas City, she had the service industry in her blood. One of the more revelatory stories is of the night at Vito’s when a young couple were clearly there to celebrate a special occasion, but their baby was making it difficult for them to enjoy the meal and moment. Cathy stopped by the table and said, “Let me hold your baby.” She took the fussy child, continued to circulate among the guests, and allowed the couple to enjoy their night. That would be a peak hospitality night for many restaurateurs, but it was just what Cathy did.

The short-lived job as a lunch lady stuck with the couple, and it animated her intention to make things better for as many children as possible. The focus was just one among many for a politician whose key objective was bettering others’ lives, including building public facilities like parks and libraries. There is a lovely irony in 1,000 people showing up for Cathy’s memorial celebration in Civic Plaza, a park she helped create while a city councilperson and mayor for The Village, a municipality in the Oklahoma City metro area about a mile north of her restaurant.

After her death, Sean got the expected but unenviable task of making the announcements and social media posts, handling the funeral in Kansas City and the memorial celebration in The Village, and trying to survive the grief that comes with the tragic end of 23 years of a loving marriage. A family friend helped get Cathy’s wishes kickstarted.

“Jen Nance came alongside to help,” Sean says. “She set up the GoFundMe to raise money for lunch debt in lieu of flowers, and people have responded in amazing ways.”

That people did something for Cathy isn’t surprising. She was a politician who had friends on both sides of the aisle. Her hospitality background had trained her to treat people as guests, which is to say with the warmth and welcome that accompanies a commitment to serving people. Former Oklahoma Governor David Walters remarked at the celebration at the park, “Cathy Cummings is the only politician in Oklahoma who could draw this crowd,” a nod to the number of people and the diversity of their backgrounds and political ideals.

On the GoFundMe, the numbers soared shortly after Cathy’s death, and much more quickly as supporters shared the social media posts, especially on Facebook. “Every time someone posted a picture of us giving a school district a check, we would get another $1,500–$2,500,” Sean says. “People have also handed me checks, including one for $5,000. It’s the largest so far.”

In total, Sean, the couple’s five children, and friends have raised $63,500 to date, and they’ll keep paying off debt as long as the money keeps coming. They’ve already cut checks for more than $30,000 in districts from Oklahoma City to Tulsa and rural schools all around the state. When they let him – Oklahoma politics being what it is – Cummings meets with the school superintendent. When they don’t want to meet with him, he takes a picture with the lunch ladies. It’s not an intentional homage to his wife, but it’s somehow a lovely tribute, just as the money raised to pay off children’s lunch debt in lieu of flowers is exactly what Cathy Cummings wanted to do with her legacy of service and hospitality.

Donate to the GoFundMe to alleviate school lunch debt in honor of Cathy Cummings. You can also donate to AllforLunch or contact your representative to support school lunch debt cancellation legislation.