"Good fences make good neighbors."
---Robert Frost (1874-1963)
But not so, at the Frost farm in New Hampshire which the beloved poet owned from 1900 to 1911 and where my husband Rodney and I meandered last autumn. From the renowned writer's famous poem "Mending Wall" which features the famous line, we gather Robert Frost wasn't in favor of fencing off this particular property. My best understanding is that it was his neighbor who apparently coaxed him into helping mend the wall.
And it's not so, on our lovely little lane where a cavalcade of couples landed in the last few years. During the pandemic surging realty sales brought us several new neighbors. The market was like the wild, wild west - homes selling like hotcakes, for over asking in a day's time. The newest arrivals, a cute young couple, landed here mere months ago, buying a residence catty-cornered from us. Apprised of the listing while I was with Betsy in Boston, I knew it would be gone before I landed at Louis Armstrong. And it was, with back up offers lined up like ducks. You know how neighbors talk. They were dancing with joy, with the closing price well over asking, four times what we paid twenty-six years ago. You could have knocked Rodney over with a feather.
And that got me to thinking, about our original neighbors on Acadian Lane. The residence which sold for top dollar was, in the beginning, red brick with an imposing entrance complete with black iron gate. First owned by a Saints player, it later became the home of the Ramthuns - Dale, Donna and their son, Christofer Lee. We made their acquaintance in mid-1996, shortly after moving into our home on Acadian Lane, a stone's throw from theirs. Dale and Donna were nice as pie - genuine and kind.
Born in 1947 to Clarence Leroy and Melbalene Hughes Darden in Donalsonville, Georgia, Donna - nearly twenty years my senior - and I became fast friends, visiting in one another's homes and going to Garden Club together. Our nearly two-decade age difference was no obstacle. It was, in fact, an advantage for me. Donna knew just what to do, and I admiringly looked up to her. Mostly, I enjoyed her company and style.
When, in 1999, my father was dying of renal cell carcinoma, Donna - whose son was grown - would collect my daughter from the school bus and take her home with her. Donna's dad had meant the world to her, and she wanted to me to have the time I needed, at the end, with my own. My mother and Donna - mothers of only children - similarly shared affection. This I knew at my father's service at Crain Funeral Home in Franklinton when Donna embraced her. And Momma posthaste began going to Garden Club with us.
Dale, a Wisconsin native, and Rodney hit it off from the start. Their friendship began outdoors for Dale, like Rodney, took meticulous care of his own lawn - an oasis. He grew Zoysia grass and mowed it himself, with a push mower, on an angle. The Ramthuns' lush lawn looked like a golf green. Young and impressionable, Rodney was both amazed and motivated. He and Dale were in the minority, taking care of their own lawns and gardens in our neighborhood, and Rodney was grateful to have a comrade. Dale gave him both guidance and boxes, which brings me to Bogalusa.
The son of Daniel Carl and Marie Buhse Ramthun, Dale was born in 1946 in the small town of Tomahawk, Wisconsin. After graduation in 1970 from Wisconsin State University, Eau Claire, and two years service in the Texas National Guard, Dale embarked on an illustrious career in corrugated packaging which lasted for thirty-five years, moving him around the country from Illinois to Texas, with positions in between.
And then he joined Gaylord Container, becoming General Manager of the bag plant in Monroe and the box plant in Bogalusa. Many locals in Washington Parish knew him through Gaylord. My cousin Delorus recently informed me that her husband Ray Jenkins worked for Dale at the box plant. When Dale retired in Bogalusa, he became President of the Gulf Coast Division of National Packaging Solutions Group in New Orleans. Then, with final retirement came the proverbial move, back home to Donna's hometown in Southern Georgia.
Before we turned around, they were "Already gone" (the Eagles are echoing, after we just saw them in concert). I cannot recall with the certitude the year the Ramthuns relocated to the Peach State. But how well I remember the sentiment, one of loss when they left Louisiana. Prescient, we knew that we would inevitably lose touch. But the much-talked-about, recent sale of their former home led to reminiscing. And that's when I lamentably discovered that they had passed away, Donna in 2016 and Dale this past May. It's always later than we think.
But how grateful we are to have had several glorious years with them, on Acadian Lane. Good as gold, the Ramthuns left an indelible mark on Rodney and me and on many others, in Washington and St. Tammany Parishes. How I wish I could have met their beloved grandson Christofer Michael Ramthun who came along later. It was Howard E. Koch who once said, "You can be a good neighbor only if you have good neighbors." Donna and Dale Ramthun made our job easy. And for the record, no occasion for a fence.
Headed into 2023, "I got a peaceful easy feelin'" (the Eagles). Maybe in the new year, we'll have the opportunity to "Take It to the Limit" (the Eagles and Vince Gill, and my favorite 45). In the meantime, Happy New Year to all!
