This morning, I read an interesting but disturbing story on my favorite Amish-related site, Amish America. I recommend the site and story to you, but the short version is that a Wisconsin man is concerned about an Amish School located in a hazardous location due to blind hills and curves. He’s lobbying local authorities (somewhat unsuccessfully) to put in school warning signs on the road.
The Amish are aware of his efforts. An unidentified member of the Amish Community sent Jim Kostohrys (a retired police officer) a letter of appreciation.
The last line of that letter might be the real story here. It expresses appreciation and support for Kostohrys’ efforts.
“Let us live together in a respectful way.”
A large part of my appreciation for the Amish is their effort to keep things simple. That sentence is a simple but elegant example.
Our (non-Amish) system of problems-solving seems less than simple. In spite of the efforts and media attention, it appears little progress has been made towards taking steps to protect these young scholars.
Amish children and one room Amish schools are important. It doesn’t come as a surprise to me that more than one person has suggested moving the Amish school to a better location. That’s not a particularly simple solution, but it reflects the belief this is an “Amish Problem.”
We’d arranged dinner with Roy and Anna, an Amish couple, through a tour guide. A total of eight of us, plus Roy and Anna, would “break bread together” at their dawdy house in Fredericksburg, Ohio. (A dawdy haus closely equates to an in-law apartment, although more often than not, it is a free-standing building, sometimes also called a grossmutter haus. The system allows for several generations to live on the same property.)
This is not Roy and Anna, but quite typical of traffic in Holmes County.
I parked near the barn, avoiding horse tie-ups and doorways. Roy was waving us to the house from the porch and we were greeted by the tiniest poodle I have ever seen. Once inside, we took our places around the table and, following a moment of silent prayer, began passing around dishes that Anna brought to the table, starting with homemade bread and butter or peanut butter spread. The hearty meal included beef, chicken, noodles and mashed potatoes… I had the honor of sitting on Roy’s right–we were the only two men, and while the conversation was lively and engaging, the traditional “separation” of men and women seemed to develop naturally.
We learned that Roy and Anna had raised ten children and had at least fifty grandchildren, plus some great-grandchildren. The sharing was comfortable, and they were as interested in us as we were in them. Laughter came easy, especially over choosing homemade peach and coconut cream pie. A small piece of each made the decision easy.
After supper, Roy took me on a tour of the grounds and barn. Behind the dawdy house is a fairly complete children’s play area. When I complimented the grass beneath everything, he laughed and said, “Turf.” It was still a few minutes before I realized he meant fake grass. “Too hard to keep mowed,” he explained, reminding me that the typical Amish is imminently practical.
A fairly large back building housed at least a half-dozen buggies with room to spare. Roy explained that it was multipurpose but built primarily for Sundays when it was their turn to host church. One of my “forgets” was to ask how many families there are in their district. Somewhat to that point, all of their children live within a few miles.
After a walk through the barn (several of his sons run the farm), he sat on the tailgate of my truck and we did some serious sharing that ranged from farming practices to “theology.” When I asked him what he thought was the biggest misunderstanding about the Amish among the Englisch, he took some time to answer. Reframing his answer is challenging because it was a conversation, not an interview. He seemed genuinely interested in what difficulties I thought I would experience! That led to a long chat about individualism versus community.
Ultimately, he focused on the word “commitment.” He seems fairly certain that most Englisch underestimate the amount of commitment involved in becoming and remaining Amish. It was a point of agreement. One example is that Roy is concerned about the increased use of electric bikes and their impact. (His granddaughters were riding horses after supper. I saw no electric bikes.)
As I drove out the driveway, I realized that–in spite of our guide’s assurance that photos were permitted “as long as no faces are included,”–I had not taken one solitary photo. Had I been more committed to “photojournalism,” I might have remembered. I know I won’t forget Roy and our shared conversation. Nor will I lose the sense that I could show up again and feel welcome and connected. I’ll take that over a photo any day.
Our first full day here included more driving–as if we haven’t done enough already. Actually, it was fun to get a sense of the area and “the lay of the land.” It may take a little more time to reach some conclusions. It’s definitely different than when we were here decades ago. But what places aren’t?
There’s always a tendency to compare this area (Holmes County, Ohio) to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. I’m not sure I’m ready to do that, but I can offer a few first impressions. The advantage of offering first impressions is that they are just that—impressions. The rest of the week here will hopefully confirm their validity and increase our understanding.
Perhaps the most worthy of note is the prevalence of bicycles—especially e-bikes. Their use is certainly not limited to the Amish, but it’s a common form of transportation among the plain people. There are a number of variations, and it’s not unusual to see various forms of “trailers,” including kid carriers. At one point, we encountered an entire family–each on their own bike, with Mom hauling a trailer containing the youngest.
We’ve seen far fewer buggies, although there seems to be a wide variety of types. One that was particularly notable resembled a Conestoga-style wagon containing an entire family. They were all waving wildly at us.
(We later learned there had been a wagon train “parade” of sorts through the area recently, so this may not have been a typical mode of transportation.)
I often note that any generality about the Amish is going to be false, so I’m not suggesting an overall trend. Some communities/districts do not permit any type of bicycle, and scooters are begrudgingly used. The underlying concern is maintaining a sense of community and a commitment to it.
Another tempting first impression is that the Amish here are a bit more extroverted. I won’t attribute it to tourism because Lancaster County is equally dependent on visitors. Note that I did not say “friendlier.” It’s more a case of who smiles first.
During my walk last night, I encountered a couple who were weed-wacking. He was doing the high bank; she was concentrating on the ditch at the bottom. As I expected, they didn’t stop, but they each glanced my way and smiled. Since I was closer to the woman, I teased, “He’s getting ahead of you.”
I later realized that, in spite of her nod and smile, I had made a very Englisch (non-Amish) observation. They were getting the work done. They were not competing, nor were they likely even conscious of who might be working faster or harder.
There’s something to be said for that.
Walter Boomsma (“Mr. Boomsma”) writes on a wide array of topics including personal development, teaching and learning. Course information is also available here!
