Contributing writer
Valentine’s Day is my favorite holiday. For me, it’s a day to celebrate all things of the heart — whether it’s expressing affection in the cards sent to relatives and friends, dining with a loved one at a fancy restaurant, meeting girlfriends for brunch, or baking Valentine cookies with Ramona kids and delivering them to everyone in town.
But most often we associate Valentine’s Day with “a special someone” that makes our heart smile. For me, that’s been my sister. I figured we’d get up on Valentine’s morning and make heart-shaped waffles with strawberries on top, and watch our favorite television program, the Sunday Morning Show, with a cup of steaming Starbucks coffee.
But one phone call changed all that. On Saturday, an old friend of ours called and said, “I’m driving to see you for Valentine’s Day.”
We were shocked! We hadn’t seen Jerry in nearly nine years. When he arrived, he had flowers and chocolates — three boxes — a chocolate fondue fountain with strawberries for dipping, champagne, cards, and a lot of laughter.
On Valentine’s Day, Jerry took us to Salina for dinner and a movie and as we headed west out of town, we approached Lewis Cemetery. As always, Pat and I silently turned our faces toward the markers, where so many loved ones rest.
My eyes swept the cemetery, starting at the east end where my parents and grandparents are buried, and then moving to cherished aunts and uncles, and finally resting at Tooltime Tim’s gravestone. It was then I saw a sight that brought tears to my eyes.
There a lone car sat silently beside a freshly covered grave — the car right alongside the grave — as though resting beside the loved one buried there.
It was Junior Hanschu, sitting in the car, quietly being with his Valentine, Jeanetta, who was laid to rest Feb. 3 in Lewis Cemetery. He went to deliver flowers to his wife of 45 years, as he’d done for so many Valentine occasions.
“Why did she go so soon?” was Junior’s only comment to me when we hugged on the day of Jeanetta’s funeral. She was only 64 years old, and far too young to ascend and leave behind a husband, children, grandchildren, and a multitude of friends and family.
I have never seen so many cars at a funeral in Ramona. An hour before the service, cars were lining the streets and by the time Pat and I arrived at the church doors, there wasn’t a seat anywhere, and folks were assembling in the Parish Hall.
“There were close to 300 people at Mom’s service,” Jeanetta’s oldest daughter, Jennifer, said.
“I got so many cards,” Junior said. “We received 165 memorials and 235 cards. Sometimes I didn’t even know the people who signed the card, but then at the bottom they’d add a note, ‘Your wife took care of my Dad, or my Grandma and Grandpa. Nobody could have been better’. Jeanetta knew everyone, it seemed,” Junior concluded.
Indeed in her many years at Medicalodges, formerly the Lutheran Home, Jeanetta touched so many lives. She worked in social services and then as an administrative assistant at the Herington care facility until retiring in 2009.
“I think once we kids had moved out and Mom went to work at the Lutheran Home, it was because she had a need to care for others,” Jennifer said. “The mothering she’d directed toward us as children now went to the residents there.”
Jayson Hanschu, Jeanetta and Junior’s oldest child, wrote a beautiful tribute to his mother, which began with these words:
“Today, when I think about Mom, it’s hard not to ask, ‘Why? Why her? Why now? Why cancer?’ Today, when I think about Mom, it’s difficult not to say, ‘It’s just not fair’. She had just retired; she and Dad still had so many plans; and the grandkids, oh, the grandkids Grandma so dearly wanted to see grow up.
‘Today, when I think about Mom, I can’t help but be sad. Sad that I won’t hear her voice, feel her touch, or see her face. Today, when I think about Mom, my heart aches with loss, as does your heart, and all our hearts.”
As is so often the case, I learned a lot about Jeanetta at her funeral. I didn’t know that she loved sunflowers.
“The whole house has sunflowers,” Jennifer said, “with blue accent in the bedroom, moving to green shades in the kitchen and living room.”
“And you might call it luck or fate,” Jayson said, “but when the county renamed all the roads, Mom and Dad’s address became 3535 Sunflower Road. I called it Divine intervention.”
And then there were the lists. Jeanetta loved lists. Not the conventional grocery store or Christmas list.
“I’m surprised that Dr. Seuss didn’t put out a book entitled, ‘Mom’s Lists,’” Jayson said at the funeral service. “She had lists in her purse, in her desk, on her desk, lists for work, lists for home, for the farm, lists at home for work, and lists at work for home. You get the picture.”
Jeanetta adored puzzles and trivia — whether it was a crossword puzzle, a brainteaser, or a game show, no one could match her.
“We will miss the wide array of facial expressions Mom would make while trying to think of the answers to a puzzle or a question. She’d wrinkle her forehead, squint her eyes, work her tongue,” Jayson said.
Jeanetta also acquired a new toy — a John Deere Gator — and it wasn’t for helping Junior with the farm chores.
“We all know she got it to give the grandkids Gator rides and take them fishing,” Jayson said. “Every time the Gator fires up, we will think of how much Mom loved her seven precious grandkids.”
When Jeanetta Lee Hanschu ascended Jan. 30, it was unexpected in so many ways. Yes, she’d had struggles with cancer back in 2000, but the last three years were “clear,” as Junior put it. But this last August, Jeanetta wasn’t feeling well and by October, doctors confirmed she had stomach cancer. She had surgery Nov. 16 and her stomach, gallbladder, spleen, and part of her pancreas and intestine were removed.
“Mom knew she had some challenges ahead,” Jennifer said, “because the stomach that was created out of her intestine was very small and she’d need to eat very small meals throughout the day. The surgery was going to change her life in a big way, but she was willing to take on the challenge.”
Junior added, “The results from the November surgery came back and doctors believed the cancer was removed and she wouldn’t even need chemotherapy.”
But just a couple of weeks later, right before Christmas, she had such a severe backache that she couldn’t sit up. A CAT scan revealed that cancer had returned in her liver and elsewhere. The doctors were lovingly clear that there was no radiation or chemo that would stop the “explosion” of cancer in Jeanetta’s dear body.
Jeanetta chose to return home to be with her family for her final days here on earth, and 4½ weeks later, she died. Her husband, their children — Jayson, Jennifer, and Jolene — and their spouses and children, attended to her until her last breath.
“I had just given her the pain medication,” Junior said, “and I leaned over and said, ‘I love you honey,’ and gave her a kiss.”
Jeanetta died within seconds of her husband’s kiss.
“When I think of Mom, there is obviously some sorrow,” Jayson said, “but with the comfort that Eternal Life brings to our hearts, there is reason to celebrate. Mom’s life has given each and every one of us memories we will cherish forever. I know she is free of sickness, free of pain, and free of misery. Today, when I think about Mom, I can wipe away the tears and begin to smile, knowing she is in the hands of Jesus in heaven above.”
Jeanetta Hanschu has been one of several dear ones who have departed in our midst in recent months. James Weber left us last year at the tender age of 19. James’ grandmother, Norma Weber, was laid to rest in January. Each and every departure touches our lives, and sometimes changes our lives in profound ways.
When I began writing the “comings and goings” of Ramona residents nine years ago, I did it to bring connection. I knew that folks who grew up here or spent many years of their lives in this little town loved hearing about the familiar names — Hanschu, Deines, Meyer, Sondergard, Weber, Ohm — because my words conjured memories near and dear to many readers’ hearts.
I also wrote with hopes of bringing connection between residents, old and new. We are all part of the ever-unfolding history of this town called Ramona, no matter how long or briefly, we reside here.
Some avid readers of my column have noted that I haven’t written much of late. It’s not that folks have ceased going out to dinner, or stopped visiting relatives, it’s that I had no energy for seeking out the news. Between calling folks and the writing, the production of my column usually took about a day.
Writing a newspaper column was more than recitation of facts or events; writing was my heart’s song. Before I ever submitted a column to the newspaper, it had to meet one criteria — it had to make my heart smile, first and foremost.
When I saw Jakob Hanschu, at his grandmother’s funeral, Junior and Jeanetta’s oldest grandchild, I was surprised to see how big he’d grown. I’ve been writing stories in my weekly columns about him, and many other Ramona kids and grandkids, since they were toddlers. As I saw this tall young man, standing beside his grandmother’s grave, I realized just how long I’d been writing the Ramona news.
Just like the death of a loved one, there are many “smaller deaths” that occur in every life. These rituals of “letting go” happen as we age, change our priorities, lose family and loved ones, or our hearts call us in new directions.
Life invites us to close a chapter so new chapters can be written. One of the chapters I am closing is being the Ramona correspondent.
I am so grateful for the years I’ve had writing for the Marion County Record. Writing my column brought me great joy. I am so thankful for all the people who were willing to disclose the experiences of their lives. I will carry those little treasures with me all of my life. We had a moment in time, our paths crossed, as we made the history of our lives.
My heart has always been my true compass. It was my heart’s longing that brought me to live in Ramona, the place of my ancestors, 10 years ago. My heart was the motivating force that inspired me, along with my sister, to restore old homes in town, to open guesthouses, to write columns, to pen books, to serve the city in one capacity or another, to create teas, and plan events.
But as the Bible so beautifully says, “For everything there is a season,” a time to pick things up, a time to lay things down. As I am laying down my pen, perhaps someone would like to pick up their pen — or in today’s vernacular, turn on their computer — and write the news.
If you wish to be the correspondent for Ramona news, contact Susan Berg, Managing Editor of the Marion County Record.
And for the last time, I write, “And that’s the Ramona news, where a traffic jam is two parked cars, and a dog in the road.”
Blessings to all. May you live well, love well, and leave a legacy that you can be proud of. That is the motto I live by.