The names of Ronald Edwards and his wife Luella Sumwalt-Edwards are etched on the Vietnam War section of the granite wall at the Richland County Veteran’s Memorial, near City Hall in Richland Center, Wisconsin. (Photo Courtesy of John Sumwalt)
Special to United Methodist Insight | May 19, 2026
His name is already etched on the Vietnam War section of the granite wall at the Richland County Veteran’s Memorial, near City Hall at 250 S. Main St. in Richland Center, Wisconsin.
“Born in Washington State, Ronald Edwards’ life was shaped early by a deep sense of service, compassion, and community,” according to his obituary in The Richland Observer:
Ron grew up in an Army family and attended schools around the world, including Germany and Japan. After high school in Sonoma, California, he proudly enlisted in the Army during the Vietnam War and served his country honorably as a chaplain’s assistant at Fort Carson, Colorado. He became the fastest Morse Code operator and was tasked with creating new training tapes that moved faster than the ones he learned on.
Ron was sent to Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, on a summer temporary assignment where he met fellow soldier and love of his life, Luella Sumwalt.”
Luella was the first woman to take (and ace) the tests for engine maintenance mechanic at Fort Leonard Wood. However, when she arrived at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin, she wasn’t allowed to have that position because they’d only ever permitted men to do that job. She happily accepted a position in Finance and Accounting where she audited financial records for service people returning from Vietnam.
Luella was working the desk in the Finance Office one day when Ron arrived to do his finance paperwork. Luella was helping a soldier whose wife was also there holding their infant child. The mom was trying to ask questions and the couple was trying to answer, but the baby was fussy and loud. Ron, who was waiting behind them in line, offered to hold the child so they could finish their discussion. Ron held the baby and she stopped crying. He sang to her and walked with her back and forth. Luella finished up with the couple, and the baby had fallen asleep in Ron’s arms.
Ronald Edwards was sent to Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, on a summer temporary assignment in 1969 where he met fellow soldier and love of his life, Luella Sumwalt. They played Ping-Pong at the Chapel Center, watched the moon landing together, and soon married. (Photo Courtesy of John Sumwalt)
Ron and Luella’s first date was playing Ping-Pong at the Chapel Center at Camp McCoy. They also watched the moon landing there together and soon married.
I cherish the memory of standing up with Cousin Luella and Ron in their wedding at Peace United Methodist Church in Richland Center in December of 1969. Our uncle, the Rev. Donald Sumwalt, and Pastor Kenneth Brice officiated.
I attended Ron’s life celebration at the Clary Memorial Funeral Home in Richland Center on a fierce, stormy night in April. Richland County is home ground for me. It was heartwarming to see so many cousins and old friends.
Seeing my cousin Luella brought back memories of my first marriage. Luella was the wedding planner. She has always been a good organizer, something she did so well in her 16 years working in the mayor’s office in Richland Center.
The wedding venue was the closet in the upstairs parlor of Grandpa and Grandma Sumwalt’s big house in Loyd, Wisconsin. Cousin Lilly and I were drafted to play the parts of the bride and groom. Cousin Duane was the minister. Little three-year-old cousin Chet, who would later become famous for his barefoot hospitality at Chet’s Feed & Seed Store on Orange Street in Richland Center, was the ring bearer. Cousin Lanette held the door closed during the ceremony.
I was four and Lilly was five. Having been born two months before me in December of 1950, she always claimed she was a year older. The marriage didn’t last, but the memory of that moment is golden.
I didn’t know Ron as well as I know Luella. It is the witness of his many friends that attest to his extraordinary life. They said he embodied the grace of God like no one they had ever known.
Ron’s high school friend, Kurtes Quesinberry, said, “Ron had a great sense of humor, but his defining character was love for others… Ron would often reach back to find me and draw me into the reverie of our friendship. Ron was part of the glue that kept relationships and communities together. He worked at those connections. He taught me to do the same…”
Colette Cullen said, “We became fast friends despite our age difference…We talked about everything… Ron was an emotionally and intelligently generous person…There will never be another one like him.”
Amber Teubert wrote: “Ron came into my life during a time when I was completely unsure of myself and my future. He was a mentor to me at the prison, where we were both social workers. He taught me how to be assertive and take no crap. He reminded me of my value when I wasn't sure where to find it….”
Ron's friend, Robin Pearson, a former Navy chaplain who delivered a touching eulogy, said, “There are many people who leave their mark not just by what they have accomplished, but by how they treat other people, especially when those other people are at the lowest places in their lives.”
Robin said, “I met Ron in 1993, when I was working part-time for Richland County Social Services. Ron was assigned to supervise and give counsel to over three hundred juveniles who had gone through our circuit court system in Richland County. The court had ordered these kids to make things right in a couple of ways. One was in meeting for counseling with Ron at least once a month.
“The other was an order of restitution for those individuals who had either stolen something or damaged property. They had to pay back something financially. The kids could also pay back some of their misbehavior through community service.
“Ron had this big computer on his desk and a big Excel spreadsheet, and he took copious notes on everything. It was just fascinating to watch him work. These kids came in carrying their embarrassment, their shame, their guilt, and that’s where Ron really stood out. He had an exceptional ability to put people at ease in his presence.
Ron Edwards used humor when counseling troubled teen-agers as a way to give them dignity and hope. (Photo Courtesy of John Sumwalt)
“Ron had this amazing capacity to separate the offender from the offense. He didn’t define young people by the worst decisions that they’d made in their lives. He met them where they were with fairness, with respect, and with genuine care. And then he helped to guide them toward something better.
“Many of the kids that came into the office had a broken spirit, or they were defensive, or sometimes they were feeling defeated, but something changed when they sat in a room with Ron. It was just an amazing thing to watch. They realized quickly that their past was not their identity, and their mistakes were not the end of their story. Ron gave them something rare. He gave them dignity and he gave them hope.
“I remember him saying to me, 'Here with me they don’t just get a second chance. They get a third chance and after that another chance, and after that another chance if they need one.' That concept stayed with me. It reminded me of the words of Jesus in the gospel of Matthew: ‘Lord, how many times should I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Seven times?’ And Jesus answered, ‘No, not seven, but seventy times seven.’
“In other words, it’s forgiveness without limits. Ron believed God to be the God of the second chance to the ten thousandth time. I saw that in action in his office. Ron personified that in a way I hadn’t seen in other people’s lives."
Robin said, "One of my favorite Bible passages is a short one, out of Lamentations, chapter 3 verses 22 and 23. 'The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning. Great is Thy faithfulness.'
“Ron came to work with that attitude every day. Every morning was a new morning. He understood the faithfulness of God, and he was able to impart that kind of accommodation and forgiveness and love to other people because he knew that he was loved."
Robin added, "As I became better acquainted with Ron it was clear that he and I shared some of life’s interests and experiences. He had served in the Army as a chaplain’s assistant. I had served in the Navy as a chaplain and there was a foundation there in faith and in military service that seemed to connect us immediately. We shared understanding about people, and we shared understanding about God’s grace.
“Ron was also a builder. He built institutions. He built relationships. Ron was the creator of the Richland County Kinship program. (His friend, Chelsea Wunnicke said, ‘Thanks to Ron Edwards, the Kinship organization, which matches caring adult mentors with Richland County children who need an extra adult in their lives, is still going strong.’)
“At different times both Ron and I served as Emergency Medical Technicians with Richland County Ambulance Service. You can imagine that work brought us into some of the most intense moments of people’s lives, moments of trauma and fear and pain and uncertainty.
“We saw broken bones and broken bodies, organ failure. We saw end of life scenarios. And in that kind of work, we needed to find ways to bear up under the stress.
“One of those ways was humor. I remember one winter there was an automobile that had slid off and rolled over onto its top. It turned out to be a sheriff’s deputy. Of course, when you work with Emergency Medical Services you know all the sheriff’s deputies because you work every accident scene together. It turned out that the deputy got out of that vehicle all by himself without injury. So, we rolled up and opened our window and pointed, and kind of giggled, and Ron said, ‘Hey, you can’t park there.’
“Ron brought that kind of humor into every relationship. He used that same kind of humor with young people in his office. He didn’t do that to dismiss their pain, but to help them to step outside of it for a moment, long enough to see something different, something possible, something hopeful.
“Sometimes it was just a simple ‘dad joke.’ He was purposeful in trying to get either a grin or a groan out of a teenager. The intent was to lower defenses and to ease their shame, to open the door for their change.
"Ron used to tell bad jokes like this:
'I know you’re embarrassed, I know you’re scared. I know you’re fearful and worried right now, but really in life there’s only two things to worry about, whether you’re healthy or whether you’re sick. If you’re healthy, you’ve got nothing to worry about. But if you’re sick, you’ve got two things to worry about, whether you’re going to get better or whether you’re going to get worse. If you get better, you’ve got nothing to worry about. But if you get worse, you’ve got two things to worry about, whether you’re going to live or whether you’re going to die.
“If you’re going to live, you’ve got nothing to worry about. But if you’re going to die you’ve got two things to worry about. Whether you go to heaven or whether you go to hell. Now if you go to heaven, you’ve got nothing to worry about. But if you go to hell, you've got two things to worry about:
“Original --- or extra crispy!
"That humor came out of Ron all the time. He could laugh at things and really put things in perspective… I saw minds and lives changed, sometimes in minutes, in Ron’s office.”
The Rev. John Sumwalt is a retired United Methodist pastor and the author of “Shining Moments: Visions of the Holy in Ordinary Lives.” Email him.