Ramona postmaster leads the cheer for Centre sports
By JESSICA GILBERT
Ramona correspondent
(785) 965-2621
Due to space limitations this column was omitted from last week's paper.
A couple months ago I walked into the Ramona Post Office and noticed that our postmaster's voice was almost non-existent. "Got a sore throat?" I queried. "Oh, no," she quickly replied with a squeak.
"I was at basketball games all weekend with my daughter, Jenny, and just wore my voice out!" said Kathy Werth, who has been Ramona's postmaster for the past three years.
Listening to Kathy's enthusiasm you'd think she was at a New York Knicks game, but the teams she adores are just a few miles away at Centre High School.
"I love sports and when I was younger I played basketball and volleyball, and I feel like I get to be part of the game when I'm in the bleachers cheering the kids on," said Kathy.
"For no bigger than Centre is, I've never seen so much spirit and great playing," she continued. "Why, just the other night I watched the most exciting game — we were all on the edge of our seats. And even though we lost by just one point, the kids played hard, showed such sportsmanship, were polite even in defeat — they took it in stride. Bottom line, the kids at Centre play with such heart!"
Kathy's allegiance is straight across the board for both junior varsity and varsity, for the guys and the gals. "I want to cheer all the teams," admits Kathy, who's been a sports enthusiast since youth. "But my problem is that I was yelling so much for the JV teams that by the time the older kids got on the court, I didn't have a voice left!"
Her enthusiasm starts the moment the players are introduced onto the court. "I like to yell and cheer when the players are introduced," Kathy confessed. "And I stay for all the games and by the time I've watched two or three, it takes its toll and then I arrive at work the next day and can't talk."
To solve the problem, Kathy bought a megaphone — much to the embarrassment of her daughter, Jenny, who's a junior at Centre High School and basketball manager for the boys' JV and varsity teams.
"I saw this megaphone in a catalog, and I thought it would be great. I could be like the Centre cheerleaders — Shaina Makovic, Krista Heiser, Dani Hatfield, Jill Fenske — I know all these gals because they're friends of Jenny's. I'd just be a cheerleader in the bleachers." (And I'm adding a "PS" that two of these fantastic cheerleaders — Shaina and Krista — are Ramona gals. We're so proud!)
While the megaphone seemed just the ticket for Kathy, her daughter didn't share her excitement. "I wanted to bury it in the backyard," admitted Jenny. And Kathy wondered if her daughter would carry through on the threat before she even had a chance to use it, so she hid the megaphone in a dresser drawer.
"And then when I wanted the megaphone for the tournament in Herington, I couldn't remember where I hid the thing!" laughed Kathy.
The megaphone is now part of Kathy's basketball game ritual. And Jenny no longer threatens to abscond with it. "Some of the kids thought it was pretty neat, and now I even want to use it, too," said Jenny.
Before Jenny became a manager for the boys' basketball teams at Centre she never really had an interest in basketball — softball was her passion and she played the game for eight years.
"But when I became a manager one of my duties was to basically record what happens in the game on a palm pilot — entering all the stats — and now I really get into basketball, because I understand it," said Jenny.
"There's two minutes left in the game, the score is 57-58 — I'm loud, I'm excited, I'm pumped up with adrenaline!" and listening to Jenny, I felt like I was right on the front row of the game watching all the action.
"Going to games with Jenny has drawn me closer to her circle of friends," said Kathy. "I'm just so glad that Jenny is here. This is a wonderful place to be." And for those readers who don't know Ramona history, Kathy and Jenny moved to Ramona about a year ago from the metropolis of Salina.
"We go to games sometimes twice a week," said Kathy. "I love it! I don't want the games to end!" And thanks to the megaphone, Kathy arrives at work with enough voice that she can tell the story of all that happened at the games the night before.
Continuing on the sports theme, Norma Bird informed me that her bowling team is going to the nationals this summer. "The nationals are being held in Wichita this year," said Norma, "so it makes it easier for us to attend."
Norma goes bowling every Tuesday evening in Herington. "To be a really good bowler you need to bowl several times a week. But these days," and she pauses to chuckle, "you also need to be a lot younger! We joke and say that as we get older our weight goes up and our average goes down."
Norma's team really wanted to attend the national competition when it was held in New Orleans. "But we messed around and didn't do it," said Norma with her characteristic laugh.
Wichita may not be as exotic as New Orleans, but I'll bet it fulfills the other fun aspects of the nationals: "Staying up all night and talking, great shopping, fine restaurants," listed Norma as she recollected previous adventures to bowling tournaments.
I can attest to Wichita's fine shopping and restaurant offerings because I was there recently to celebrate my birthday. That's part of why I didn't write a column last week — I was too busy celebrating to make phone calls and write.
I share my birthday, Jan. 15, with other notable folk, like Tanner Brunner, who turned 11, and Martin Luther King, Jr., who has a holiday in his honor.
"Tanner had a weekend birthday party," said his dad, Tracy, when I called to ask how Tanner celebrated. "He had buddies over on Friday night and on Saturday we had the family over for dinner."
"Do you remember turning 11?" I asked Tracy. He turned the question back on me. "Do you?"
I must admit I don't recall exactly being 11, but I do recall that somewhere in those years, my mother planned a surprise party. I can vividly recall the delicious sensation of walking into the living room and seeing my friends jump up from behind the furniture and yell, "Surprise!"
No matter how old I get, there's still that childish desire to be surprised. But the older I get I also know that creating surprises takes a lot of energy and when it comes to my own birthday, I sometimes have no more imagination than to cook supper and rent a video when I ponder how to celebrate.
But thanks to my sister's natural propensity for folderol, birthdays at our house are never dull. Last year in the midst of my cleansing fast for my body, Pat came home with all the ingredients for banana splits.
This year was a delightful mixture of the expected and unexpected. I expected the pleasure of my sister's zany talent of turning the most ordinary moments into memories extraordinaire, and I knew Tooltime Tim was conspiring to produce something worthy of a story or two.
And sure enough, at two in the morning on Jan. 15, I staggered out of my room to get a glass of water — the house was quiet and dark, and when I reached the kitchen and turned on the light, my eyes were stunned to see a gorgeous bouquet of pink carnations and white tulips on the kitchen counter.
My bleary eyes focused enough to read the card, my sleepy lips curled into a smile, and after a drink of water, I returned for a few more hours of sleep.
At four in the morning, I arose once more. When I reached the bathroom and focused my eyes to the shadowy darkness, I noticed something perched on top the commode lid. I switched on the light and gazed at a stack of gorgeous lavender and green towels — tied with a gigantic organza ribbon. Yep, my sister knows my habits and the desires of my heart.
Birthday morning arrived and Tooltime Tim called from work to sing "Happy Birthday," and to tell me just how hard it was to surprise me. "Pat and I carried that bouquet of carnations around in the truck for quite awhile," said Tim, "because everywhere we went to hide it, you'd show up!"
The mail held treasured surprises of its own — and here I'll put in a plug for Hallmark cards, or any old-fashioned-held-in-the-hand-greeting. When I opened the mail each card was like a mini-birthday party — there were funny cards and sentimental ones, and some so beautiful that I didn't want to put them back in their envelopes.
Adding to the fun, Pat's daughter, Jana, decided to fly out from California for a visit, and arrived the afternoon of the 15th. "This calls for some shopping in Wichita," I joked, and as if we were telepathically connected, my cousin, Becky, who lives in that area, called and announced she was taking the day off work to celebrate my birthday.
"Before you head to Wichita, come by the house," said John Laurin, the contractor who is building my mother's new home. Pat and I dutifully stopped by, thinking we had some construction issue to address and instead John produced a pan of gourmet brownies.
We call John the "gourmet builder" because he not only builds fine homes, but he's a gourmet cook as well. He periodically produces homemade bread that he bakes with his children, and when he brings a loaf for Mom, he always admonishes, "This is for your mother!" which keeps us from stealing it.
This time, we were the recipients of the treat and all the way to Wichita we had our fingers in those brownies. Pat's hands nearly stuck to the steering wheel because her fingers were covered with caramel and drizzled chocolate. I was the birthday girl, so I didn't have to drive — I just licked my fingers!
We met Cousin Becky at Kohls — a great place to perform the ancient female ritual of "hunting and gathering." Each of us grabbed a cart and went our separate ways. Within minutes, mine was filled to overflowing with sweaters to try on, bedding for the B&B, and cookware. I felt briefly guilty and then Becky reassured: "It's your birthday — you should have a full cart!" I liked her logic.
While Pat went to the airport to pick up her daughter, my cousin and I dashed to the shoe department at Burlington Coat Factory. It's not that I needed shoes, it's just that they're fun and hard to resist.
I'm always drawn to high heels, even though they're the most impractical shoe for Kansas terrain. I've nearly broken my neck, figuratively speaking, trying to walk from the house to the car — gravel is especially challenging in high heels!
But in the name of "keeping abreast of fashion" I just had to check out the latest in shoes, and buy a pair
This may be hard to imagine, but take a pair of spike heels and add shoestring laces on the toe of the shoe, and you get the drift. And for the "all-terrain" factor of Ramona streets, (like gravel) the shoes have rubber tread on the bottom — a feature that I thought was immensely practical and thus justified my purchase.
As my cousin and I headed for the checkout counter, Becky had two pairs of shoes in her arms. "I'm buying you one pair of high heels and one pair of practical shoes for your birthday," she announced. "I know which ones I'd be wearing most," she said with a laugh, as she stood in practical loafers, and I teetered in high heels.
I think of Becky and smile when I wear the flats she bought me. Indeed there is something soothing about having one's feet planted solidly on the Kansas soil.
And yet, there always will be that part of me — the dreamer, I suppose — that relishes the view seen from "on high" when wearing a pair of stunning high heels. It's like walking with my head in the clouds!
Until, of course, I hit a patch of gravel, and like a fallen angel, spiral back down to earth and put on a pair of practical flats!
And that's the news from Ramona where we walk with our feet firmly on the ground (most of the time), and a traffic jam is two parked cars and a dog in the road.
