Ramona: Bell tolls for Trevia Schneider, long-time Ramona resident
By JESSICA GILBERT
Ramona correspondent
(785) 965-2621
One of the reasons my sister and I came to Ramona was to record the stories and histories of the old timers in the area, and while Trevia Schneider was not old by my standards, she was certainly one of the long-time residents who added character to the place.
On the morning of March 18, Junior Hanschu stopped by our house and knocked on the door. "I was just over at the church ringing the bell," said Junior with a solemn tone. "Trevia died this morning." We were shocked because the news about Trevia the day before was nothing but optimistic.
Forty-eight hours after heart surgery — three bypasses and a heart valve — Trevia was disconnected from all life-support machines and already up walking around the hospital. It seemed the whole town of Ramona was feeling optimistic as word spread of Trevia's progress.
But that night around midnight Trevia began having complications and doctors took her into surgery once more. In the early morning hours of March 18, Trevia Schneider died and Ramona was stunned.
When Junior rang the church bell in honor of Trevia's life, he rang it just 70 times — Trevia was not that old by Ramona standards.
Trevia's funeral was held March 22 at the Trinity Lutheran Church in Ramona. The church was packed and streets in all directions were outlined with parked cars. I watched as family members slowly sifted into the church pews, and I smiled because I could pick out Trevia's sister and brothers before I even knew she had any — they all had a similar look, a familiar stance, it was like seeing a shadow of Trevia walk down the church aisle.
Pastor Clark Davis officiated at Trevia's funeral, and he has a gift of making a funeral service so personal and meaningful. I wondered what stories he'd tell about Trevia. I figured he'd talk about her sense of humor — and I was right — which sometimes could be a bit intimidating.
Pastor Davis told about one of his last visits with Trevia in the hospital when she got on the telephone with Junior Hanschu and said, "Pastor is going to be mad at you," and she proceeded to tease Junior about all the things he was to do in her absence — ring the bell, turn on the heat, put up the hymn numbers, and light the altar candles — never revealing to Junior that Pastor Davis was standing right there during the entire phone call.
"She could kid me and I could kid her," Junior said after the funeral. "I could say anything to her and she could do the same with me. Now YOU," teased Junior, "I have to be careful what I say to YOU!"
Trevia and Duke Schneider lived in the little white house on the corner of 3rd and F in Ramona for more than 40 years. When Duke died in 2000, Trevia continued to hold down her spot on the corner near the railroad tracks. She put the house up for sale, but never sold it, and we were glad.
Trevia ran Schneider's Market for 12 years — until 1982 — and then sold it to the Hanschus, who ran the grocery store until they retired in 2000. Now that building houses the Ramona Café.
Three days after Trevia's death the ladies of Ramona gathered at the Ramona Café for their weekly Monday ritual of conversation, coffee, and rolls. As I walked down the street to join them I thought of Trevia because her car often was parked in front of Ramona's restaurant. And when I walked in and found myself a place at the large, round table, it seemed so odd not to see Trevia already sitting there.
"So what will you miss most?" I asked Trevia's friends sitting around the table. "Seeing her here at the café," said Marlene Anduss. "Trevia came in every Saturday and Monday and she'd sit at that table and have lunch."
Paula Fike recounted all the years she worked alongside Trevia in the Lutheran ladies aid society. The next morning, Paula and the other ladies of Trinity Lutheran would be performing the nurturing ritual — one Trevia often was a part of — preparing a luncheon spread for family and friends following a funeral. But this time, the food lovingly presented would be for the family of one of their own.
"Here lately when she wasn't feeling good we told her to come to the parish hall kitchen anyway — we told her she could supervise," smiled Marge Hanschu.
"I'll miss Trevia at the church door handing out bulletins on Sunday morning," said Ann Koch of Wichita, who came to Monday's coffee klatch, with her mother, Orvell Brunner.
"I don't think Trevia thought we could have church without her," added Orvell with a sad smile on her face.
I happened to see Trevia's oldest daughter, Theresa, later in the week and when I told her what Orvell and Ann said she smiled. "Mom felt like she had to take up where dad left off when he died — he always opened the church on Sunday morning and was standing ready with bulletins when folks arrived."
"Trevia was my best friend," said Frances Buxman when we spoke a few day after the funeral. "Every Saturday we went to get groceries together and we'd trade off driving. I've known Trevia for a long time — when I was living in Abilene and she lived in Enterprise — before we both moved to Ramona. I knew her when her two oldest daughters were just babies."
Frances and Trevia shared the same birthday and usually celebrated together. "I miss her terribly," said Frances. "I think about her every night when I go to bed — I look up the road to her house on the corner. Sometimes Trevia would call me in the morning and say, 'I looked out the window at your house late last night, and your light was on.' We just looked out for each other."
The day Trevia died I looked at my desk calendar which has inspirational thoughts for the day. What was written there was a fitting reminder: "Life is brief and fragile. Do that which makes you happy."
On Easter Sunday weekend Tooltime Tim made a lot of little kids happy when he dressed up in the giant brown bunny suit that my sister made, and was Ramona's Easter Bunny for the annual Bunny Hop in the park.
Elias Jirak was one of the smallest egg hunters at Ramona's Easter event on March 26. "He knows what to do now," laughed Elias's mother, Vickie. Last year was Elias's first egg hunt and he wasn't sure about the whole ordeal. He was really uncertain about the guy in the big brown suit!
"It's the screamer," teased Tooltime Tim when he saw Elias, because that's exactly what Elias did last year when we tried to get a picture of him with the Easter Bunny. This year, we didn't even try for a picture, we just let him hunt for eggs.
Sandra Svoboda officiated the annual egg toss, which was won by Anna Weber and a friend. Coming in second was Cole Svoboda and Jacob Jirak and the youngest egg-toss winner was C.J. Thompson, five, who competed with his aunt Stacey.
Ramona kids were searching for missed eggs until late Saturday afternoon, stopping by the house to get any hints from the Bunny's assistant (Pat) as to where other eggs might be nestled in the grass that other kids overlooked.
Jean Brunner came with her daughter, Jill, and grandson, Tucker, to the egg hunt. She'd just returned from the Centre High School trip to New York City and Washington D.C. From the snippets of conversation I overheard, the trip was quite an adventure. I was eager to hear first-hand details, so I called senior Jenny Werth, who went on the trip with her mother, Kathy Werth and Don Matkins.
But Jenny was at work when I called, so I got a "blow-by-blow" from the next best source — her mom. "Jenny went on this school trip because she won't be able to go on the senior class trip in late May. Right after graduation she's starting college courses at Kansas Wesleyan University in Salina," said Kathy.
When I asked for a summary of the trip, Kathy said with a wry chuckle, "Nobody will ever get me on a bus again for some 30+hours! We could hardly walk when we arrived in New York."
The 56 passengers (22 sophomores, juniors, and seniors form Centre and 34 adults comprised of teachers and parents) filled the bus to capacity when they embarked from Centre High School for a whirlwind trip of New York City and Washington D.C.
The group actually had three days of sightseeing, which was a rather intense schedule since they were taking in a Broadway show — "Chicago" — shopping on Fifth Avenue, historical monuments, and unusual eating establishments.
When I asked Kathy about New York she said it was like Christmas all year around because there's so many lights everywhere, "and everything's going 24/7 — nothing seems to close in New York," said Kathy.
"The schedule was non-stop, We were up early and never returned to our hotel rooms until near midnight. Even the cross-country athletes in the group were rubbing sore muscles, so that tells you something," laughed Kathy.
I asked for her impressions of the Big Apple and here's what she said: "There are security guards on every corner and lots of mounted police on horseback. You do lots of walking in New York because there's not room for cars. You take a taxi, the subway, and I saw lots of mopeds. And the bodies — the streets are a mass of bodies, and we were right in there with them."
Kathy said the memory she'll most remember was the night she was getting off the bus to go eat and before she could get into the restaurant a commotion erupted down the sidewalk toward them. A woman was chasing a man and beating him over the head with two umbrellas. Even when the wind blew the umbrellas inside out, she kept chasing him and hitting him on the head.
"As they ran past us on the sidewalk, this crazy lady almost hit me in the eye with her turned-inside-out umbrella," said Kathy. After that experience, it made Ramona seem like heaven. "You couldn't pay me to live in New York City!"
On April 2 Kim Wingerd's house was filled with friends celebrating the arrival of Shelia Mercer's twin daughters, who already have names — Abby and Annie. The babies have tried to arrive twice already and doctors have given Shelia medication to stop the contractions in hopes the girls will stay put for another week or so. With twins being added to the Mercer family of five, Shelia was most grateful for all the lovely gifts. Outfitting one new arrival is a big enough task — let alone two! I didn't realize how much equipment it took to raise a baby until I went shopping for Shelia's gift.
Other Ramona women at the event were Deb Wiles, Norma Bird, and of course Kim Wingerd who hosted the party. Many of the guests were from Rosebank Church, where Chet and Shelia are members.
Naomi Fike has been in the Herington Hospital for more than a week. After several days the doctor determined Naomi's problem was a gallbladder attack, but then her heart started beating irregularly, which added a more serious complication. "Doctors suggested a pacemaker," said Naomi's son Joe, when we spoke on Monday, "but she's not strong enough for surgery." You can send cards to Naomi at Herington Hospital, 100 E. Helen, Herington 67449.
Last Saturday morning I was driving on Pawnee road at about nine in the morning and I just laughed out loud because within the span of about three seconds I passed four cars on the road. I've never encountered that much traffic on Pawnee in a five-second time span.
I knew the cause of the traffic jam — it was the sale at Erich Utech's farm west of Ramona. One of the cars I passed on the road was my own sister and Tooltime Tim who were heading that way.
But I had another mission — I was chauffeuring Tony Meyer to the funeral of Eleanor Murphy in Tampa. When Tony walked in the door of the Holy Redeemer Catholic Church one of Eleanor's granddaughters approached and said, "Are you Grandma's twin?"
It was obvious that Eleanor had told her family the "twin story" as much as Tony still loves telling it. Both Eleanor and Tony were born on the same day, March 3, 1912, and the local doctor got hung up at the Schwartzman home delivering Eleanor (there was a fierce snowstorm adding to the complications) and so Tony was delivered by his very own papa.
I've been to quite a few funerals recently and each one has left a special imprint on my soul. I'll always remember Eleanor's funeral — even though I didn't know her well — as a funeral about peace. The prayer of St. Francis was printed on the program and it begins, "Lord, make me an instrument of your peace." Now that's something to meditate on — how to be a instrument of peace.
And then the congregation sang a song — "Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me." I sat in the pew and pondered peace on earth, thinking first of the Middle East, where differences are so pronounced and seem so apparent from this distance, and then I brought it closer to home and considered Marion County, where folks might have a difference of opinion on the rights of gay people, the right to die, or any number of complicated issues.
"Let there be peace on earth," I sang, and truthfully it would be easier to sing if the words were "Let there be peace on earth, because you agree with me." But alas, the true challenge in life is creating peace — period — whether you agree or not.
As I emerged from the church on Saturday, I thought of St. Francis as I looked into the eyes of people I knew and others who were strangers to me. "O Divine Master, grant that I may understand," I said to the heavens, "and when my soul is stubborn, it will be progress, oh Lord, that I seek to understand." Now that's a goal for my lifetime.
And that's the news from Ramona where we're working on peace and tranquillity, and a traffic jam is two parked cars and a dog in the road.
