Amish Introductions

Oh, how I wish I had pictures to illustrate all that I long to show and tell you about our time in the Amish family. Recall the Amish believe taking pictures of them is sacrilege. It is in their estimation a graven image. I will use some pictures from the Internet as representations of what we saw. We never took out a camera. We did this so as to both be respectful of their beliefs and to show that we did not see this as a vacation photo op. We truly wanted to immerse ourselves in their family and culture. We believe our actions spoke volumes to our hosts. I will try to paint with words our experience.

My car awkwardly approaches the lane to the house. I am, in so many ways, driving back into a period of time predating my car. I turn up the lane alone. Delaine will join me in a few days. I had been nervous the last few days. As outgoing as I may appear, I am as nervous as the next person when I am approaching the unfamiliar.

A tiny ancient woman straightens herself in the garden she is working. She braces a peck basket on her hip that is mounded with green peppers. A smile broadens her face and she turns toward the house. A team of horses, pulling a hay rake, makes the turn beside the barn. Melvin, our Amish host, bobs comfortably on the iron springed "chariot cart" seat. Rachel, Melvin's wife, steps hastily from the 1912 slate roofed farm house with the youngest of eight children in tow, two steps behind. She is a sturdy woman. She is not the picture of  Kelly McGinnis from The Witness film. Rachel has given birth to eight children before 38 years of age, all born at home with a  midwife. It has left a touch of gray at her temples.

She is the first to make it to the car and I immediately know I won't have to worry about conversation. She starts talking. She won't stop for five days. When Delaine arrives, Melvin and I would stand at the gate at the horse barn and watch the two of them talk. He is a quiet man of few words. I comment he only has about a thousand words to use in a day, but the two of them have 50,000 each. He smiles and says "Two hands and one mouth I only wish Rachel could work both at once. But yours is a much better way to say she talks a lot." He claims copy-write on my phrase quickly.

The 5 year old boy's name is Nathan. They will call him my "pet" after the week. He takes it upon himself to be my tutor in Amish ways. I am still not certain he was the best mentor, but he was never more than a step away from me. Nathan's first language is Pennsylvania Dutch. it is not Dutch at all but rather a western Germanic dialect. He speaks English, Pennsylvania Dutch and understands High German which they use in church. He and all the other children have been told that for the duration of the time with the "English" (This is the terminology they use to define non-Amish.) they should speak only in English.

There is little time for introductions. There is hay to be baled. Melvin shows me how to hitch a four horse  team to the baler and we hitch a wagon behind this. (Their harness and collar is already on. That tangle of leather will be for another day.) It is likely with a full wagon and baler they will be hauling 6-7 tons. A five year old holds the reins of three tons of horse power and steadies the steeds.

I climb on the lip of the wagon and my feet dangle. They begin a childish sway involuntarily. In my minds eye my hair is not gray, but blond and I am 16. Melvin mounts the cart and takes the reins. "Gee", he commands. Massive hooves and 1500 lb Belgians gingerly side step to the left. It is an unnatural step, hoof crossing hoof. Doc, is the lead horse. He is 16 years old. Jake, King, and Katie round out the hitch. Katie is two and she is tethered to Doc with a training pole. It persuades her to go whereever he goes. She is young and unsteady but he is a rock and patient with her. Nathan jumps off the moving cart and hops aboard the wagon beside me. Leather harness groans, chains clank and the baler speaks its rhythmic mechanical language as it begins to belch bales.

I grab the first one and head back to the rear of the wagon. One! I don't have my wagon legs yet and I stumble along to the front looking a bit awkward. Melvin smiles. The second bale lands on the wagon deck before I get back. I grab it and realize the learning curve has to be short. It's not long before I have the first row stacked  seven feet high and woven together so the stack wont tumble. 110 ten bales later, we head to the barn to off load them into the hay mound. Its five o'clock. Time to milk the cows, feed the chickens, unharness the horses and feed them and get them to the field.We will go in the house at 9:00 pm to eat dinner. Nathan tells me tomorrow is Hinkel dot (chicken kill) I am so glad he is teaching me Pennsylvania Dutch.