Ramona news
By JESSICA GILBERT
Ramona correspondent
Last week's sale of the Utech family farm strongly resembled the fervent and passionate altar calls my minister father used to make at evangelistic meetings. The only thing missing was the faint sound of an organ playing "Softly and Tenderly" in the background. "This is prime land! Farmed by Erich Utech until just recently. Do I heard $500 an acre?" said the auctioneer. The response is gratifying and quick.
"This is a wonderful farm, with land for crops as well as raising cattle. I have $550, do I hear $600?" And the bidders responded.
When the action slowed, "Did we talk about the spring on this property? Now you know the value of a spring in the summer. I have $600, do I hear $650?"
There's a lull in the bidding. "Why we've sold farms that change hands within a couple of years because the new owners don't like it anymore than the last. But this family hasn't wanted to release this farm for over 100 years. Do I hear $650, now $700."
"Some of you are no doubt remembering what you paid for land 10 years ago and these prices are much higher. But not in today's market. Do I hear $750?"
"So how long does it take to sell just one item at an auction?" I asked Leon Coup, Hope's banker, before the bidding began. I figured the Utech farm would sell rather quickly since there's just one item on the auction block, but then I've only been to auctions where they sell teacups and tablecloths.
"Oh, they'll probably take the bids to a certain level and then take a break," said Leon.
Take a break?! How strange. Exactly how long could it take to get from $500 an acre to around $800, the amount I'd heard savvy farmers mentioning.
But Leon was right on the money! About 30 minutes into the auction, there was indeed a break and the Utechs — Dolores, Junior, Bill, Erich, Fred, Erna, Edna and Wilbur Cole who represented his late wife, Esther — gathered with the auctioneers in the kitchen for a consultation.
I realized there's a definite psychology to auctions and this city girl didn't have a clue. "This farm is in the top 3% of all the land we've sold," said the auctioneer as he resumed bidding once more. "The Utechs are willing to settle for $850 an acre, but we want to give everyone a chance to get this fine property and of course we want to do our best for the family. Do I hear $860?"
The signals are sent, the bid rises, but more slowly now. "We don't want to bore you, we're about to close the bidding, but we want to give everyone a chance. Do I hear $870?"
I was just itching in my seat to turn around (me on the front row) to see who was bidding. I've always been a "front row" person, because you see the most action up front.
So when Tony Meyer told me the morning of the auction that he was going to the parish hall at 6 p.m. so he'd get a good seat, I was expecting to find him on the front row.
When I walked in, and saw Tony sitting with his back against the wall, I was a bit perplexed. Indeed the whole crowd seemed to be sitting at the back of the room. It felt like a boat with everybody in the stern! I sat on the front row, near Betty and Harold Ohm, just to even things out.
As the bidding reached a crescendo of $880, I could feel the emotion in the room. Releasing a farm that's been in your family for 104 years is no easy ordeal, and as I watched the Utech siblings during the sale I imagined the only solace would be to find a buyer who will care for the land as they have done these 104 years. I also imagined the excitement of the bidders, just a number or two away from fulfilling a dream.
"SOLD for $880 an acre!" pronounced the auctioneer. "And what's your name, sir?" he asked as he pointed to the middle of the room. "Jim Srajer," the buyer replied.
"So are you moving to your new farm?" I immediately asked Jim, who lives with his wife and family in Tampa. "No, we don't plan to move there; we'll just be farming for now."
I called the Srajer household this week to get permission to write about the sale and spoke with Jim's wife, Kris. I shared my enthusiasm for the stately old house on the property.
"Oh, it is a grand old house," agreed Kris, and I could tell she was "hooked," because she mentioned how nice it would be if they could put on a new roof to keep the farmhouse from deteriorating further.
"It's so peaceful and relaxing to go out to the property," continued Kris, "and that's because the Utechs have kept the place so clean and maintained."
A few days after the sale I happened to see Fred Utech at the Ramona Senior Center. I asked him how it felt to release the farm. "There are a lot of memories on that farm," said Fred as his eyes got misty. "Did I ever tell you about the confusion we kids had about where babies come from? Every time a baby came we thought it was delivered in the doctor's little black bag, until one time, when we heard the baby cry BEFORE the doctor got to the house with his little black bag."
It's always hard to release something you cherish, but handing your "land heirloom" to a younger family that has dreams and aspirations for the land, and the energy to match it, must bring some modicum of joy to match the grieving of letting go.
The land and wide-open spaces are something we probably take for granted because we have so much of it out here.
This past week I thought of that when leaders from the tri-county area gathered at Tampa Senior Center to listen to Renelle Farrar from Canadian, Texas, who reminded us some of the things we take for granted are experiences that might draw city folks to come visit.
Renelle is the director of the chamber of commerce for the Canadian-Hemphill, Texas area, and she had an amazing and inspiring story to tell about how their declining town of 2,300 turned themselves into a thriving community where tourists love to come and leave their dollars.
Reign and Marlene Anduss and Nathan Bailey also attended the meeting. My sister and I were talking with Renelle after the meeting.
"A gentlemen from Herington was talking with me just a few minutes ago," said Renelle, "and do you know what he was talking about? It was Ramona. He recently visited and was going on and on about how beautiful your small town is, about what you're all doing there, and the fun of buying fresh produce, and seeing your museum."
As I drove home, I gave thanks, because Ramona may be small, but what we have is really fine. Betty Ohm's garden produce looks more like a park than a garden; the Ramona Café is a lovely destination on the weekend; Norma's Attic tempts folks with antiques; and our bed and breakfast has enjoyed loads of customers this summer.
We especially delight in customers who have once lived here, which brings me to news from the week of Aug. 8:
Duane and Dorothy Sondergard from Bel Aire and their daughter, Gwyn Snow and her husband John, from Park City, and grandson, Marc from Wichita, inhabited Cousin's Corner Saturday night.
The Sondergards were in the area to attend a step-grandson's wedding in Hope. While the elder Sondergards were getting dressed for the wedding Saturday afternoon, Gwyn and her son, Marc, strolled around Ramona.
"We stopped to see my uncle Al," reported Gwyn. Al Sondergard, Duane's older brother, was out mowing his lawn on Saturday, keeping E Street looking beautiful. Often Darlene's the one on the mower but Darlene's currently recuperating from a recent back surgery.
Batty Baerg Lofland from Pasadena, Calif., and her sister Kathleen Baerg Shrauner of Arlington, Texas, also visited Aug. 14. Their reason for coming was because Betty is so fond of Ramona.
Betty and Kathleen had great fun sharing memories of Ramona with Duane Sondergard. While Duane spent his early life in Ramona, the Baerg sisters resided in Ramona only three and a half years. Their father ran the lumberyard that was located where Norma's Attic Antiques is now situated.
"I remember we had a big old navy blue Buick and it was nicknamed 'Big Bertha'," recalled Betty Lofgren. "Big Bertha" wasn't exactly complimentary — it shared a nickname with Hitler's big German guns.
"We were kinda embarrassed to ride in the car," remembered Betty. "We'd sometimes duck when we saw our friends. So we were rather glad when our father traded in the car for a used '37 Ford which he bought from the Sondergard's garage."
Duane remembered the big blue car. "I think we sold it to your grandfather Schubert," Duane said to me. Sometimes it's amazing to see all the threads of connection that bind us one to another.
Naomi's neighbor to the north, Deborah Hare, even came over to give the latest report of her newest grandchild. Mrs. Hare's daughter, Silka Neuhaus had a baby boy, named Jacob, on Aug. 12. He weighed 7 pounds 10 ounces and was 20 inches long. Silka and her sons, Joseph, Ryan and now, Jacob, live in Ramona with Deborah and Robert Hare.
And that's the news from Ramona where we're excited because our population has just risen by one, and a traffic jam is two parked cars and a dog in the road.
