And That's Another Story...

* Leaving A Legacy *



Dick and Erna Schubert Hensley

We were flying back to California from a summer in Ramona wondering out loud just how we would ever find the money to finish the Ramona House and make it livable. "Even if we have to camp in the house, it's fine -- We'll figure it out." 

Later that year, our Uncle Dick died, his wife Aunt Erna had died two years before, and one day we received an impressive envelope in the mail. The lawyer's letter declared "You are a beneficiary" along with 34 other cousins. (Aunt Erna and Uncle Dick had no children.) "How much could it be?" we wondered. After all, Uncle Dick was just a barber. But no matter what the sum, we knew exactly what we would do with it - we would renovate the Ramona House.

We were astounded when we opened the official envelopes stating that each of us would be receiving $7,500 from our Aunt Erna and Uncle Dick's estate.  With the impending arrival of this large sum of money, our father felt advice was in order.  "Your girls should pay off your credit cards or set the money aside for your business."

ãI want something thatâs a legacy to show for the money,ä my sister, Jess retorted.  ãIf I pay off a credit card, it will just be charged up again in no time."  I too, wanted something that would be around, long after I was gone.

We knew in our hearts that the money was for the Ramona House.  Between us weâd have $15,000 that we could invest in restoring it!  Best of all, the money was going to arrive just in time for our third summer trip to Ramona.  The year was 1992.

ãWhat a relief!ä Jess exclaimed.  ãFinally we can hire some REAL carpenters and REAL plumbers and REAL electricians.ä  REAL meant that it wasnât just us doing the work.  REAL meant thereâd be workmen with real tools and real training on how to use them!

While still in the big metropolis of Sacramento, California, Jess made a beeline for her favorite fabric shops and brought home swatches for curtains, upholstering furniture and decorative pillows.  We poured over wallpaper books and changed our minds a million times.  Should we be cautious with calm, sedate colors or throw caution to the wind and be bold!  

You guessed it!  We were bold.  ãThereâll be three different patterns of wallpaper in the living room,ä Jess explained with glee.  ãThereâll be dark green with roses on three walls, with a pink stripe on the dining room walls and a border to connect it together.ä  She was in her element!  ãAnd each pattern will coordinate with every other room in the house,ä she assured. 

As I watched my sister mixing the fabrics and textures that would adorn the Ramona House, I realized that this was the first time either of us had ever decorated a house just like we wanted.  Jess had been dreaming of this since she wanted to be an interior decorating at the age of 12.  I, on the other hand, was too traumatized by the upheaval in my life, to even envision it, so I just followed her lead.

Jess had already begun to ship boxes of supplies to Aunt Naomi in Ramona.  We were going to have a real house (meaning we could live in it), with a real kitchen (meaning we could cook in it), and a real bathroom (meaning weâd have a toilet that flushed), and a house decorated and furnished from the front porch to the back bedroom.   She shipped wallpaper and fabric, cooking utensils and shelves, bedding and linens.  

Now, back in 1992, Ramona didnât have any street signs.   Folks just knew their way around town and throughout the countryside because most of them had lived in the area all their lives.  Who needed street signs?    When Jess went to ship sixteen boxes of supplies to Ramona, the business-like voice from UPS inquired, ãAnd whatâs the address where youâre shipping these items?ä 

ãItâs Naomi Fike, two blocks West of the bank and one block North÷a white house with black shutters.ä

ãIâm sorry, Maâam,ä said the bewildered UPS agent, ãbut we have to have an address.ä

ãYes, I know, but there arenât any,ä my sister patiently explained. ãThis is the address.ä

ãAre you sure this description youâve given me will get the boxes to you?ä

ãOh, yes, weâve done it many times before.ä  Jess assured the agent.

When we arrived in Ramona, Aunt Naomi announced, ãMy garage is so full of packages and boxes that I canât put the car inside.ä There was excitement in her voice as she continued.

ãEvery time the UPS truck pulled into town, the neighbors all knew it was coming to my house.  Iâve become friends with the driver!ä she laughed. ãHe wondered what in the world was happening in Ramona?ä

Ramona welcomed the excitement and the flurry that followed that summer.  The commotion grew to a crescendo on the North end of town.   Electricians pulled wire through walls and into the attic, installing outlets where there had been none. Plumbers pounded and poked under the house and brought a bathroom to life in what used to be a closet.  

The moment there was electricity we started sewing curtains÷never mind the dust and debris of  ãMen at Work!ä   Subliminally we could hear our mother advising that one did not sew curtains before the dust had settled and certainly not before everything was cleaned and painted.   But we had little time÷just ten precious days before we had to once again head home to California.   We were determined to see the sublime fabric draped on windows and the lush wallpaper clinging to ceiling and walls.

Aunt Gertie invited us to come out to her storage sheds and find treasures.  She was the one in the family who could not resist going to farm and yard sales and auctions.  She was the treasure-keeper over the years and when family members wanted to throw things out, she was there to retrieve them. 

Once upon a time, when she was younger, she loved to fix up old pieces of furniture.   But along the way sheâd grown tired of the tedious demands of refurbishment.  ãWouldnât you like this old cupboard?ä she asked one afternoon as we rummaged through her storage sheds.  It was a grand old thing, perched against the wall in the garage where Uncle Hank was using it to store oil, paint and cans of this and that. 

ãWeâll take it!ä we exclaimed. 

Uncle Hank loaded the cupboard in his old black truck and brought it to the Ramona House for us to strip and paint.  ãThereâs a story behind that there cupboard,ä Uncle Hank said as he propped the cupboard on the porch.  ãThatâs your great grandmotherâs pie cupboard,ä Hank explained.   ãWhy grandma used to keep our birthday cakes in there when we were kids.ä

ãI remember that cupboard,ä exclaimed our Aunt Anna, who had stopped by to see what was happening.  ãWhy Grandma used to keep her Palmolive soap in that cupboard.ä

Uncle Hank chuckled, ãThatâs why our birthday cakes used to always taste like soap!ä  And these two aging siblings laughed like kids again at the memory.

ãBy the way, girls,ä Aunt Anna chortled, ãIâve got a couch in my basement that your Uncle Walter never liked÷just too short and too hard to suit him.  Would you girls like it for the Ramona House?ä    Within hours it was sitting in our front room, transformed with a flowered slipcover made from our stash of fabric bought from the legacy weâd received.

ãHereâs a chair,ä said our cousin, Becky.  ãIt used to be Grandmaâs.  It belongs in the Ramona House.ä   Indeed it did.  It looked lovely sitting around the oak table weâd just purchased.

ãYou girls want these rockers?ä asked our neighbor, Tony. ãAnd what about this chest of drawers?ä

ãHereâs some money from your Uncle Clarence and me,ä said our Aunt Frieda as she tucked several $20 bills in my hand. Two antique lamps are a constant reminder of their gift.

ãWeâve got some bed frames you can have,ä offered Aunt Gertie.  ãWhy we have one that your uncle and I used on our honeymoon,ä she grinned.


We painted, padded, patched, upholstered, refurbished and made do.  Whatever we were given was a precious gift and to commemorate each one we had little brass plaques engraved and attached to every item.   In honor of the legacy left us by Uncle Dick and Aunt Erna there were two small plaques. One was placed next to the toilet in the bathroom: ãThanks to Uncle Dick, weâre flush!ä And beside the light switch in the dining room, next to a picture of beautiful Aunt Erna, thereâs another that reads: ãOnce more Aunt Erna lights 
up the room.ä  

ãHereâs $20,ä said Aunt Anna.  ãGet something for the house.ä  We bought a porch swing and the plaque says, ãIn honor of Aunt Anna, who romanced many a fella on a porch swing just like this!ä 

At last, near the end of our usual 10-day-visit, the Ramona House was ready to be inhabited.  We went to Aunt Naomiâs, where weâd stayed each year while we worked on the house, and packed our suitcases.  As we hauled all of our clothes over to the Ramona House Aunt Naomi was a little sad.  Something had changed.  No longer would she be the hub of our lives in Ramona.  We wouldnât be sitting at her table every evening and entertaining her with stories.  And the stories from her youth would be harder to retrieve now, because like birds from the nest, we had flown to the Ramona House.

That year, when we had the annual family reunion, cousins, aunts and uncles, meandered through the house, looking in the eyes of ancestors, whose pictures now hung on the walls.   Stories and laughter floated through the rooms as pictures triggered precious memories.

As the family gathered on the front porch for the traditional photo, Jess and I looked at one another and smiled.   A dream had come true.  As relatives lingered on the porch to talk and recollect, I winked at Jess as she served cool beverages and cookies to our guests.  ãSo, howâs it feel to be having that tea party that we dreamed of?ä  I asked.   She just smiled and poured another glass of iced tea.   We were carrying on the legacy of the ancestors before us÷a living legacy of love and connection.