Hostettler retires after 50 yeras as church organist years ago
By JESSICA GILBERT
Ramona correspondent
(785) 965-2621
Florence Hostetter, who lives with her husband Millard just outside of Ramona, started her musical career by learning to play "I Love You Truly" by ear. "I was five years old when my mother taught me the F chord and I've been playing ever since. When I was small we used to go to the Lutheran church when the roads were muddy and they had this wonderful pipe organ and I began to dream of playing the organ someday. I loved that music (you know, we didn't have radios then). Then Millard bought me an organ and I started playing at home and when we got an organ at church, I started playing there. I just always enjoyed it."
Florence has just retired from 50 years of being the church organist. "I'm 86 and my eyes were getting kinda, you know, and I thought I'd just better quit," she sighs. Eighty years after learning that simple F chord, Florence was asked to play that first little song she had learned, at a potluck in her honor, Sunday before last, at Ramona's Brethren in Christ Church. This lady has still never had a music lesson. "I played in church, I played for weddings and funerals — I counted once, 87 funerals, I think, that I played for in Hope, Abilene, Herington — all over." Florence said.
Being a preacher's daughter, a preacher's wife for 30 years, and even the organist in a pinch — I think being a church organist requires a lot of skill. You're called upon to lead the congregation in music and yet blend with them in worship. I've heard some organists play so fast that the congregation hasn't a ghost of a chance to keep up. Some organs and their performers bring forth a sound more like a skating rink than what you'd expect in the sanctuary. Other musicians play so loud you can't hear yourself think, let alone stay on key. The general consensus, I believe, is that fancy organists who playing all over the ivories are more appreciated at a barn dance, than at church — unless, perhaps, it's an evangelistic meeting where we can stand a little revving up. At least that's what my aunts tell me.
At the college church I used to attend in California, the job of being lead organist was a political position — somewhat like the lead dog on a sled team. We never knew quite where they were going to take us during the hymn. When one particular musician was on the bench, we all knew we had to be cautious before starting the last verse of any song. If you launched prematurely, you were in trouble because the organist loved playing an interlude between those last two verses so that he could modulate up to a higher key. Then he pulled out all the stops, playing something entirely unique and freeform as the congregation attempted to sing the same old melody line a few notes higher. I'm not a trained musician so I don't know all the technical terms, but I'm telling you from the person in the pew, it was a trick to figure out just where you were supposed to be in the stanza.
Florence Hostetter played for the Lord and not the performance. Without benefit of any formal training, she played consistently and faithfully through one service after another, one preacher after another, one year after another until she'd completed all 50 years. Recalling the skills she was required to master when moving from the piano to the organ without benefit of instruction, she said, "When it came to foot pedals — my foot just seemed to know where to go, I don't understand it — really, I was playing for the Lord and He helped me many a time when the songs were difficult."
"We'll miss her playing," said Naomi Fike who always wished she had taken music lessons herself. "Florence was just good, that's all I can say. She could play about anything and to think she was playing mostly by ear, that's impressive."
While Florence played music for the flock at church, Cole and Bryana Svoboda have been raising a flock of sheep at home. It all started when they raised a bottle-fed orphan lamb a couple of summers ago, which they called Bacon. These kids specialize in unusual names for the family livestock. Whoever heard of a sheep called Bacon?
Well, the flock of sheep has been growing and this spring Bacon was due to have a little lamb herself and the children were all excited, only to be disappointed when Bacon lost her baby. Not to fret, their dad, A.J., brought home another orphan lamb and introduced it to Bacon and amazingly this sheep would let the lamb nurse. "It took a couple of weeks," said Sandra Svoboda, "but Bacon has accepted that little lamb, which the kids — by the way — dubbed Bambi." At last report Bacon and Bambi are doing fine — now who would ever guess we were talking about sheep? See, how it pays to read the Ramona news?
Frances Buxman reports that her friend Treva Schneider is doing well after surgery. Treva's still recuperating in Herington where she is staying with her daughter Marilyn, but we're hoping she'll soon be back in her little white house on the edge of Ramona. Snow was falling the other day when Frances talked to Treva on the telephone. "Well, have you shoveled your sidewalk yet?" Treva wanted to know. "Yeah, sure," said Frances, "when are you gonna do yours?" "I'll be over in 20 minutes to do it," Treva retorted with a chuckle. Frances took this as a good sign that her friend was definitely on the mend.
All this snow stranded Collin Bailey in Columbia, Mo., Saturday night. Driving was treacherous, underscored by the fact that traffic was stopped due to an accident, so Collin succumbed to being snow bound. Was it difficult? "Nah, I just stretched out and popped a movie in my VCR," said this veteran trucker who evidently has all the comforts of home right out there in his sleeper.
On Sunday afternoon, having barely set foot on Ramona turf, I found Collin out clearing Frances Hanschu's driveway. "She's feeling under the weather," Collin said, "and I'm making sure she can get her car out in case she needs to go to the doctor." Isn't it wonderful to have guardian angels?
Let's leave the snow behind and think SPRING for a few moments. For those of you who love a good musical, reserve some time on the last weekend of April to attend "Gone with the Breeze," a mini-musical being put on by young actors from Centre High School. This play is supposedly a parody on the well-known movie, "Gone with the Wind." At least there's a similarity in the title, and the theme includes Hollywood wannabes and movie-making shenanigans all set to music.
Those girls from California are helping the students put on the play. "We read play-books for a week and finally wrote off for sample copies," said Jessica Gilbert, "and this play was my first choice right from the beginning — the only hitch was whether or not we'd have enough students, who could sing, show an interest in performing."
Even though Jessica is still in Oregon, the play process has started without her. We're holding auditions this week. "There are about 20 parts and 20 students showed up for our first meeting," said Pat Wick with a grin. "I was afraid we'd only have a handful showing interest, but I was pleasantly surprised when this wonderful bunch appeared."
Guess what appeared in Tony Meyer's mailbox this week? "Fifty-five cards so far," says Tony as he displays the cards received for his 90th birthday. "Here's my favorite," he said as he dug through the pile. "This is from my tall niece who is married to the best guy in the world," he says with a big smile as I open the envelop and read the message on the card, "Die herzlichsten Gluckwunsche zum Gebrutstag und alles Gute im neven Lebensjahr." What more than your mother tongue, which now feels foreign to your tongue, to remind you of the passing years? The card is signed, "Love, Madeline & Frank."
"So what are you doing to celebrate?" I wanted to know. "I'm going out to Edna Meuller's for dinner and I'll drive my own car," he hollars the latter as his friend Erich Utech departs the scene. "Can you imagine," Erich says as we walk toward the door, "he was supposed to come yesterday for dinner — which was his birthday — and he begged off so he could watch professional bowling." Erich chuckles. Tony's friends can understand his obsession with bowling, however, because we know that Tony has a box of trophies in the closet that he won at the sport! "Ahh, that was a long time ago," Tony says, "in the '40s."
Let me take this opportunity to finish Fred Utech's quote on aging that got cut in last week's column. You wondered about it, didn't you? What Fred really said was a piece of wisdom that we all could contemplate, "Older, is what you MAKE yourself."
I happen to agree with Fred. Being old is a state of mind. I've seen people whose bodies are worn out, but still hold this delightful sense of humor that can just make the sun shine on a cloudy day. Inside of all of us is a 20- or 30-year-old, ready to take on the world. Inside of all of us is a 10-year-old, wanting a little adventure — a little fun! So share a joke, a smile, some crazy adventure, with a friend or loved one this week and discover the fountain of youth. Don't make yourself old prematurely. If you're really bored, you can always come on over and count the dogs in Ramona — which are gaining on the population, at my last count.
Would you believe it? Are my eyes playing tricks on me? As I look out the office window on to Main Street — there's a traffic jam in Ramona: exactly two parked cars and one dog in the road.
