Ramona News: community celebrates
By JESSICA GILBERT
Contributing writer
"Boot Hill Bath & Laundry," Get your laundry done while takin' a bath, Cheapest bath in town — two bits. The water's often warm!" I hollered, as I ironed with an antique flat iron while rolling down Main Street, Lincolnville, for the Octoberfest parade. The cowboy sitting in his long johns, added, "Drinks are free!" as he lifted the moonshine jug to his lips.
The theme for Lincolnville's parade on Oct. 7 was "Remember When" so my sister and I (with the help of Tooltime Tim, of course) decided to create a float remembering when folks did their wash by hand and took baths in a tin tub. As we drove along the clothes, pinned on the clothesline overhead, flapped happily in the breeze. Pat, who's Ramona's mayor, stood by an old washtub with washboard in hand, scrubbing the cowboys' clothes as the tin tub overflowed with suds.
In the middle of the float was a sign reading "Boot Hill" and piled all around were cowboy boots from imaginary customers waiting for their turn in the tub. Actually in the tin tub (which was filled with jarringly cold water) was Tooltime Tim Steinborn, who was taking a bath. All along the parade route he hollered at folks asking if they'd want to help scrub his back. Sipping moonshine (just pretend) on a nearby stool was City Councilman Art Stroda, who reminded folks they could get free drinks at this laundry establishment while they waited to bathe.
Pulling the Ramona float with his little pink 1943 Model S Case Tractor was Billy Alcorn. Billy's always willing to be the "cut up," so he agreed to drive his tractor, wearing nothing more than long johns, with a Derby hat perched on his head. As we rolled down the street, it was my job as the laundry assistant, to get Billy dressed appropriately. So first I ran and delivered his socks (which he put on as the tractor slowly crawled along). Then I ran back and ironed his shirt and delivered that. "Don't forget my pants," he yelled, and I fetched the suit pants (which I was amazed actually fit him since they were from our stash of costumes.) Then the suit jacket. And, finally, I retrieved a pair of old boots from "Boot Hill" — the biggest ones I could find — but when Billy saw them, he realized that this was one article of clothing he wasn't going to get on his body.
Other Ramona folks in the parade were Jeannie Goza and Gene Remmers, who drove Ramona Fire Department vehicles. Jeannie and Gene were kind enough to stop at our float and give us enough water to fill our wash and bath tubs. Tim lamented that the fire department water wasn't warm!
October is the season when Ramona's population increases by 15 or 20. These residents are only temporary, however, since they depart right after Halloween. I'm talking about scarecrows, which have appeared regularly in Ramona since 2002.
The idea began when friends from California drove into town with their huge RV and stayed for a couple of days. They'd always wanted to experience this place they'd heard stories about. When they left, they said, "You ought to do something like scarecrows — we RV people love having a reason to cruise through the countryside."
That's all Pat and I needed, and that first year we made 28 and put them all around town — on our properties and in the yards of our aunts and uncles. It became a fall ritual and then last year, I asked the neighboring towns if they would like to join us. I figured that folks might not drive two hours just to see Ramona, but they might drive that far if there were five towns and several restaurants to explore.
Ramona, Lincolnville, Tampa, Burdick, and Lost Springs all have scarecrows sprouting up for this second "Scarecrows on Parade" event, which is judged this weekend by Councilmen Dan Holub and Randy Dalke and Marion County Sanitation Director Bobbi Strait. (Winners will be announced in next week's paper.)
The first person to get a scarecrow up in Ramona was Jeannie Goza, who erected "Elvis, Appearing Nightly," on Main Street. He's quite a presence in his white sequined outfit. At night, he's lit up by spotlight. And on the weekends, Elvis will actually be singing. When I first saw Elvis, I just busted up laughing. And I realized that this is exactly why I love "Scarecrows on Parade."
Betty and Harold Ohm were the second to get their scarecrows up in Ramona. "Our daughter, Brenda, did it for us," said Betty.
Pat and I finally got around to putting our scarecrows up this last weekend. At our guest house, "Cousins Corner," there is a group of little cousins playing croquet. At "Jake's Place," there's Jake cleaning out his eaves, and at Pat's house is "Making Chicken Dinner." One scarecrow is catchin' the chickens, one has the skillet for fryin' the chicken, and one has an ax for makin' the chicken ready for dinner!
At my house, which is just around the corner on E Street, there's "Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers of the Midwest." These scarecrows are in celebration of my passion for ballroom dancing.
When I moved to Kansas, the thing I missed most was dancing. "Learn country dancing," someone said. But in my mind that was like eating Brach chocolates after trying the silky, smooth, sumptuous taste of Godiva.
But, after years of searching without satisfaction, I went in desperation to a dance in Salina (someone intimated they did ballroom) and met a dancing man — a man who, like me, wanted just a dance partner, not a life partner.
Now I glide around the room so effortlessly that I willingly take my ballroom skills and apply them to country. I do find it amusing though — I'm not a fan of country music, but after going to all these dances where they play all the same music, I find myself humming "All my ex's are in Texas" while I'm doing dishes.
Yep, I've become a dancing fool — dancing has taken me as far north as Beatrice, Neb., over to Beloit, to Wichita, Manhattan, and the list goes on and the mileage goes up — but I digress from scarecrows.
We put Tony's scarecrow up and he phoned last night to tell me he changed the hat. "I put my fire hard hat on him," said Tony. "The straw hat that was on him — well, I just might want to wear that next summer." I replied that if he had a desire for a straw hat next year, I'd buy him a new one — the one on his scarecrow had a hole in it! But if you know Tony, you know that having a hole in something (hat, shoes, slacks, shirt) doesn't keep Tony from wearing something he loves!
The Lewises are the newest residents on Main Street. "I've never made a scarecrow before, so I might need some help," said Virginia. But when the likenesses of Virginia, her husband, and son appeared on the front porch, they were so realistic I started to wave when I drove by.
"You deserve the town spirit award," I said to Virginia when she stopped by to get some hay for stuffing. "Just seeing your creations just lifted our spirits," I said.
If your spirits need lifting, if you want to smile, then take a cruise through Ramona, and neighboring towns. Stop and have lunch at the cafes or get some beef jerky at the Burdick Meat Market. "Scarecrows on Parade" will be up for your viewing pleasure from Oct. 14 to 31. Maps showing the locations of all scarecrows will be available in all five towns at the restaurants or market. In Ramona, that's the Ramona Café.
Our Barbershop Art Gallery and Gift Shop will be open beginning this weekend, until Christmas. Our hours will match the Ramona Café on Saturday and Sunday (11-2). The shop has lots of new surprises like sparkling jewelry made by the California Sisters, Tooltime Tim's Hot Pepper Jelly, Prairie Springs Honey (some from Ramona bees) from Margaret Harris's apiary, and clocks hand-crafted by Jim Socolofsky, who grew up in Ramona.
If you can't stop by during our regular hours, call for an appointment; 785-965-2621.
This weekend was Cole Svoboda's 14th birthday. He reported that the celebration was a family gathering with the usual chocolate cake. "Oh, and my Grandma Svoboda made my favorite pie — pumpkin," said Cole. Attending the party were Cole's grandparents Frances Buxman from Ramona and Lawrence and Delores Svoboda from Lincolnville, his aunt Elaine and her two kids from Herington, and uncle Tim Steinborn from Ramona. Cole's parents are A.J. and Sandra and, of course, his sister Bryanna was at the party, too.
As for what's notable about turning 14, Cole only had this to say: "I'll be getting my driver's permit on Nov. 27". (Oh, my, these Ramona kids are growing up!)
On the other end of life's timeline is Tony Meyer, 94. While young Cole is just beginning to accrue life experiences, Tony has volumes to look back on. He had a chance to recall some of those adventures from 60+ years ago when life-long friend, Asta Chase of Lindsborg sent a letter. "Why don't you and Jessica come to Lindsborg sometime and have Swedish pancakes with me," wrote Asta. I loved the idea (I get to be part of the party because I'm Tony's driver when he has to go some distance from home.) "Let's do it!" I said to Tony. And, within minutes, Asta and I were on the phone and agreed on a date.
Asta and Tony's friendship began at McPherson College, then continued during their service in the Navy. I once saw a picture of them standing together in their Naval uniforms and on the back was another photograph taken 40+ years later. They were a striking pair, no matter what era.
On Sept. 25, over Swedish pancakes and lingonberries, Asta and Tony shared stories from their youth. They were so busy talking, they didn't eat much, but I was just chowing down those pancakes. "You'd better have another," Tony suggested when he saw my empty plate. So I ordered a third pancake, and they kept talking. Because they were seated right beside the cash register, customers stood by their table as they waited to pay. Several folks knew Asta, and after introducing Tony, she'd add, "He was my boyfriend many years ago." And then Tony added, "And here I am, about to expire!"
Before Tony and Asta bid farewell, we had to take one more picture — another memory captured to add to a fine collection of treasured moments. That's my challenge to you this week: make a memory that's worth recalling!
And that's the news from Ramona where a traffic jam is two parked cars and a dog in the road.
