Ehrhardts arrive in Ramona
By JESSICA GILBERT
Ramona correspondent
(785) 965-2621
A week ago I was standing amidst piles of boxes in my parents' home in Oregon, feeling like Moses trying to get the Israelites packed and out of Egypt. After 30 years of living on their 18-acre ranch, after a lifetime of saving "because you just might need that someday," my mother and I were sorting, deciding, and throwing — although to leave my mother alone in the packing process, not much got thrown out. It seemed that every letter, card, piece of fabric, and jar of home-canned apricots had a memory attached to it and it was hard to just discard it or give it away.
"Oh, this letter I received from some of our church members in Boulder, Colo.," my mother reminisced as she sorted through boxes of notes, cards, and letters from the many churches my father pastored in his career as a Seventh-day Adventist minister.
"No, we can't leave that applesauce behind," my mother cautioned. "They don't have those kinds of apples in Kansas." Even amidst the packing, Mom and I stopped one evening to can a dozen quarts of applesauce because Mom couldn't stand to see good apples rot, nor could she stomach the idea of store-bought goods.
She was right, actually — that applesauce was the best I'd ever tasted, it was worth the effort and the special packing box to get it to Kansas safely. Pour a little cream on it, and it's like liquid apple pie!
"Could we give away some of these dishes, or the extra pots and pans?" I queried hourly. And to humor myself, I'd think of Moses, trying to load up thousands of people, not just two, with their animals and life possessions. I could hear Moses now, sounding a bit like me: "Folks, the most important thing right now is to get yourselves out of here and on the road. You can buy new dishes and pots and pans when you reach the Promised Land!"
And if my mother had been in the crowed, she would have replied, "But Moses, what if we get lost in the wilderness for 40 years? We'd need those dishes and pots and pans in order to eat!" I smiled at the thought — while Ramona is my "promised land," I could see where it might seem like the "wilderness" to some — no lush Oregon greenery, no grocery store chains offering "two for one" on a weekly basis, no Christmas tree farms, apple and filbert orchards right next door, nor two Wal-Marts within 20 minutes.
There were moments I wondered if we'd ever reach Ramona, as my father's health fluctuated and the challenges of selling two properties, gathering medical records, medications, and packing seemed to mount. One day it looked like everything was all in place, and then a house deal would fall through at the last minute.
One morning in sorting through pictures, plaques, and wall hangings I came across one ascribed with the Bible text: "All things work together for those who love God."
"I should keep that one out and look at it every morning," I thought to myself. I needed especially to remember the part about "ALL things," it doesn't say "some things" or "most things."
"When do you want Tim and I to arrive?" asked Pat one morning over the phone, as we reviewed the five different plans for how to transport data to Ramona. "Come as soon as you can," I replied. "I'm striking every rock in sight to get the seas to part, and when they do, we'll need to move fast."
My mom, sister, and I had agreed that if my dad's health improved enough that he could leave the nursing home where he was recuperating from a recent illness, that we'd take that as "the Red Sea parting," and bring him here. If the doctors agreed, if we could transport him (flying was not an option for several reasons), if their properties were sold or on the market, and the list went on and on. Daily, Pat and I would review the list, checking for any signs that the sea of obstacles was beginning to part.
And then one day, within 24 hours, things started to happen, so fast that I felt like a gust of wind was at my tail! I wondered what it felt like to Moses when the Red Sea began to part. Did the wind kick up? Was he afraid they wouldn't make it? Did he wonder if the great wall of water would fall before they all reached the other side?
When my sister Pat and Tooltime Tim arrived in Oregon, I knew how comforted Moses must have felt to have his sister Miriam and brother Aaron arrive on the scene. How ironic, I thought, that Tim's first name is actually Aaron! Pat's middle name isn't Miriam (but Muriel) and she certainly rallied the troops like Miriam of old.
While I took my mother to the nursing home for her daily visit to my dad (which included a home-cooked lunch she'd prepared especially for him), I could drive away knowing all work didn't cease while Mom and I were gone. They packed with a fury and within four days of their arrival we were ready for movers to arrive, vehicles packed, the last box sealed, wheelchairs, walkers, and snacks in the back of Tim's truck — we were at last ready for the journey to Kansas.
Early on Friday morning we loaded up — my mom and I driving their Chevrolet and Pat, Tim, and dad in Tim's truck, pulling Dad's precious John Deere tractor behind them on Tim's trailer.
Early Sunday morning, we approached Ramona, just as the sun was rising over the prairie. It was a gorgeous welcome home! We had reached safety. We had reached home.
What does it feel like, I wondered, to return to where you began. My parents — Laurel and Martha Schubert Ehrhardt — were both born and raised here in Ramona. They met in orchestra class in the Ramona High School — my father introduced himself to my mother when he placed a chair for her each time the orchestra met.
"I remember this house," said my father as they walked into the guest house we call "Jake's Place." "I used to come here as a boy when the Socolofskys lived here." Dad's memory, sharp and clear, remembered the placement of every room.
Our parents will be living at Jake's while dad's health stabilizes. His heart condition demands total peace and quiet — and outside a train passing or an occasional barking dog, he gets it.
Last night as I tucked him in bed, he said, "What's all that talking out there?" It was the most noise he's heard since being in the nursing home. "That's Tim installing a new and brighter light in the kitchen," I said. "And it's Pat and I putting away dishes and Mom saying hello to Uncle Hank."
My parents are living right next to their siblings. Dad's sister, Naomi Fike, lives just across the street. Mom's brother, Hank Schubert, lives just across the alley, and her cousin, Norma Weber, lives just two doors away. Mom's other sisters, Anna and Frieda, live in Herington and Wichita. At last, we're all here, within the borders of Kansas.
Naomi Fike had an "exodus" of her own — she arrived back home in Ramona Saturday evening, after having been gone recovering first from heart surgery, then a broken hip. On Sunday morning, after getting my parents settled in Jake's Place, I walked across to say hello to my aunt. "Oh, am I ever glad to be home!" she said with excitement. "I was determined to come home and everybody at the rehab center was rooting for me!"
While Naomi and I caught up on the news — I hadn't seen her in two months since she landed in the hospital with a broken hip just as I was heading for California in August — her son Steve was cleaning out cupboards for her. Not long after, her daughter Virginia showed up with lunch and I heard that Joe and Janet Fike also were here over the weekend.
On Sunday evening, I began calling folks in Ramona to get the news. "I figured you'd skip it for this week, with all you're trying to get done," said Paula Fike with sympathy. I must admit, I was tempted, but I had to give it the "old college try" — I've missed my weekly chats with folks.
But first — where are the office keys that get me to the computer? And where's my list of everybody's phone numbers? Oh dear, there's something wrong with the office phone line — how will I call folks and type at the same time? How will I e-mail my column to Marion? Oh well, I'll make calls from home, scribble notes on paper, write a column in the early morn, and we'll get it to Marion somehow, even if we have to drive it over!
So here I am, at the computer keys, sleep deprived and disoriented, but nevertheless, home and ever-so-glad to be writing again!
While I've been gone the ladies of Ramona have started a new tradition — they're meeting at Butch's Diner in Tampa every Wednesday morning at 9 a.m. for coffee, rolls, etc.
"Everybody's invited," said Paula, as she told of last week's gathering, attended by Frances Buxman, Treva Schneider, Orvell Brunner, and Gertie Schubert.
Frances, of course, had the latest news of our progress in Oregon as her son Tim was helping us close down our parents' ranch and get them moved. Frances also kept our cats fed while we were away. Aunt Gertie called frequently to offer encouragement to my mother as she sorted and packed. Gertie could relate to all the things my mother had saved. "I'm just keeping it all and the boys can throw it out after I'm gone," said Gertie, as she admitted that "throwing" just might do her in!
The other ladies, lovingly reported that they'd been praying for us and thinking about us! We are immensely grateful and we used up the energy that was sent via every prayer.
As for other news about town, three generations of women from the Bird family were in Colorado recently — Norma Bird and her daughter Fern Leach and Fern's daughter Jenny Davis. The reason for their trek was a women's retreat that was held in the Rocky Mountains. "The lodge where we stayed faced Pikes Peak," enthused Norma, as she described the breathtaking beauty of Colorado mountains. "It was a wonderful retreat, and we were needing something like this!" continued Norma.
The retreat was sponsored by the Brethren in Christ Church. There were nine attending from the Rosebank church and 21 from Crossroads church in Salina. All total, 82 women attended the gathering. "There were so many great people there from many places. It was wonderful!"
Orvell Brunner reported on activity within the Brunner family. Ann and Bernie Koch were home this weekend. "If there's a ball game in Manhattan, they always stop by here," said Orvell.
Kent and Jean Brunner's daughter Amy is now living in Salina and working as a prosecutor for the district attorney. Amy recently passed her bar exam and was sworn in as an attorney. In September she started working for the district attorney and after the swearing-in ceremonies, was assigned her first case in court. Congratulations, Amy!
The annual cattle sale at the Kent Brunner ranch on Upland Road will be Monday. I attended last year, and although I wasn't a buyer, it was a great event to watch. I decided that owning one of those bulls would be like having a Mercedes Benz in your garage!
Orvell also reported that the funeral of Mary Beisel was being held on Tuesday of this week at the Lutheran parish hall in Ramona. Mary, once a Ramona resident, has been living in Herington at the nursing home for 15+ years. Mary and Dave (both now deceased) once lived in the house on the corner of 5th and B — the house that is owned by the Lorei family.
Erich Utech's sister, Esther Utech Cole, died last week. Her funeral was Oct. 9 in Ottawa. "Esther was 18 months younger than me," said Erich. "She was 81 years old when she died." While Esther had not been real well, her death was nevertheless a surprise.
Fred and Lucy Schubert and family of Evergreen, Colo., stopped to see Hank and Gertie Schubert last Saturday afternoon. Along for the ride, was Fred's mother Dorothy Riffel of Salina.
Last Sunday evening, Warren and Paula Fike were attending a great-grandson's birthday party. "It was Tate's 10th birthday," explained Paula, who added that Tate is the oldest of their great-grandchildren. Tate is the son of Susie and Tom Omli of Brookville and Susie is the oldest of Linda Peterson's children and Linda is Warren and Paula's daughter. Y'all probably knew all that lineage — I'm just learning it all! Making the party memorable was the fact that five great-grandparents were present. Quite a record and quite a crowd, too.
While I was in Oregon for two months, I never lost touch with Ramona. In addition to talking with Pat almost daily, there were occasional phone calls from relatives and regular calls from Tony Meyer. "What are you doing?" was his first question. "Packing," was my frequent reply.
But one day he reported that there was a surprise for me at his house when I returned. Two packages were waiting for me and he wasn't going to open them until I came home. His frequent phone calls were to check on just how long he was going to have to wait until those packages were opened. The suspense was mounting!
It all began on a hot day in August when Tony's niece, Elaine DeTour of Tucson, Ariz., came through town to see Tony on her way to the Kansas City airport. "She was wearing this great pantsuit," recalled Tony, "and she looked just terrific." In fact, she looked SO terrific, he detained Elaine long enough to get a snapshot.
"I thought that you'd look good in that same outfit," said Tony, "so tell me your measurements — height, weight — and I'm calling Elaine to have her order one just like it for you."
During the two months I was in Oregon, Tony called to say the packages had arrived. Another phone call admonished me to watch what I ate. "I hope you haven't gained any weight, I hope you can still wear the outfit. I hope you get home before it's too cold — this is a summer pantsuit," he pointed out. Tony's admonition about "still fitting the outfit," was a weight-watching inspiration!
When I finally reached Ramona on Sunday, I just had to stop at Tony's and retrieve the packages and open them. Even though my hair wasn't combed and I hadn't worn makeup in days, and I was sweaty after unloading boxes, I HAD to try on that outfit. "Where's Pat so she can take a picture," Tony demanded.
Included with the silk black and white checked pantsuit was a note from Elaine. It seems that when she went to Dillards to buy the pantsuit they didn't have the same pant and top that she got. Elaine enlisted family members wherever there was a Dillard store to go on the hunt for this special attire. And the contents of the packages proved them successful, and they were on sale to boot! What luck!
While I put on the outfit for "modeling," Tony sat at his kitchen table, hunting through his address book for Elaine's phone number. He had to call and report the great success! But Elaine wasn't home — so Tony and I left a lengthy message, until the answering machine said it was all out of room for more talking!
But leaving a message didn't fulfill the need to share the excitement, so Tony called his friend, Erich Utech. On demand I got on the phone, explaining to Erich the great success with the outfit. "It's good to have you back," said Erich. "It's been kinda quiet while you girls were gone."
"Didn't even get any scarecrows up this year," I said sadly. "Well, it's not too late," said Erich with encouragement. And he's right. I'll wager that by Halloween, there'll be some scarecrows show up around town. We aren't unpacked from our August trip to California, not to speak anything of our trip last week from Oregon — and the moving van with my parents' possessions arrives next week, but you gotta take some time out for play!
And that's the news from Ramona, where we were so relieved to pull into town and discover that a traffic jam was still two parked cars and a dog in the road.
