What are we gonna do?
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
On the day that Uncle Hank and Aunt Gertie joined the wagon train heading west, a huge tree limb went down on the corner of 3rd and C Street, blocking entry into their street. We decided it was symbolic!
"Now what are we gonna do?" We called the electric company, we called Paul the maintenance man and waited for the removal of the tree across the road. Unfortunately, or fortunately (depending upon your perspective), there was other access to C Street and their move to Colorado went on as planned.
Cousin Gary (driving the U-Haul) said, "Head 'um out," Cousin Keith said, "Westward ho," with Hank and Gertie in the lead and plenty of horse-power to spare. Cousin Carol, alias the Facilitator, came next, then the U-Haul truck and finally Cousin Vickie bringing up the rear.
My sister and I stood in the park, looking at the gaping hole in the tree and realized again what a huge gaping hole was in our heart. A huge piece of history had just left town. We've depended upon Uncle Hank, to supply us with accurate information — for the family as well as the community. He's been the fountain of wisdom for us as long as we can remember and he comes complete with names and dates like a talking encyclopedia.
Aunt Gertie has always been the things-and-stuff lady with the this-and-that book. Technically she was a move-in almost 50 years ago but she took this community to her heart as if they were her closest kin and collected pictures, both historical and current — her camera just clicking away. "I just love Kansas sunsets," she'd say as she headed west of town with her camera to collect yet another specimen.
Whenever a stranger came into town on a genealogy quest, we'd call Uncle Hank. Within minutes he'd be at the bank citing facts and figures, schoolmates and neighbors, to supply the missing link.
Now what are we gonna do?
It's always a sad day when old-timers leave town and Ramona's oldest citizens are right on the cusp of leaving, taking their tried and true family names with them right along with their knowledge of history.
Tony says, "Don't look at me, ask Erich," with a sly grin. "My memory doesn't work like it used to." Now our neighbor Erich just checked himself into a care facility. "It's where I belong," he says with resignation; but we don't think so. We haven't heard all the stories. We haven't asked enough questions.
Aunt Naomi says, "I'll help out where I can." We can't ask Mom, she's been gone too long. "You'll have to ask my sister Anna, she'll know," says Martha who just moved back into town a couple of years ago. This helps with family info but we're still at a loss when it comes to Ramona.
Now, the generation in their 70s is called to the plate. "Batter up," and who's it gonna be? Warren, Steve, Merv, Fred, Norma, Betty, Harold — who's gonna be our historian, the story-teller, our fountain of wisdom?
There's a saying that an old friend repeated to me one day, "You know how it is, Pat," he said with a wry smile as he contemplated his own demise, "Wind prunes the trees and time the populace."
It's another day in the country. Time flies and the wind is blowing!
