If you knock on a random door in any of a number of Amish communities across the country, there's a decent chance the home might contain a set of books called the Family Bible Library.
Originally published in 1971, it is a perennial hit among the Amish, who appreciate the vivid illustrations, easy-to-understand text, and solid scriptural reference.
I'm selling these among the Lancaster Amish this year, as I have in other communities in years past, and it has been a hit here as well. I happened to get what I believe was my most enthusiastic reception ever yesterday, when one mother nearly shouted when I pulled out a sample book of the set. 'I wish my mother could see this', she said. 'It brings back so many memories'.
Many Amish adults fondly recall using these and other Bible story books during childhood. I look at Bible story sets like this and others as fulfilling a role for the Amish that television now does for the modern family. It's a focal point for family time, an activity to share during down time, at the end of the day or on the weekend.
I realize that's a crass comparison--I doubt there's the same amount of spiritual benefit in the television diet of the typical American family--yet I mean it in the sense of families coming together. Work, church meals, reading--it's one of those things the Amish do collectively as a form of recreation just as we go to the ballgame or check out Spider-Man 3 on family night out at the cinema.
I feel very fortunate to be able to do this job again this summer. It has given me a chance to see a cross-section of Amish America and to gain friends and acquaintances whom I'd otherwise have never had.
At the same time it can be difficult. The Amish get a lot of salespeople--some unscrupulous and pushy--and in turn some of the Amish can be rude, just like any other people. When I sell, I am extremely laid-back and non-pushy. I have a policy of always treating 'no's' the same as the 'yes's'--with courtesy and good humor--but it can still be tough.
But I feel good knowing that people appreciate what I'm doing. That more than makes up for the refusals and long hours. That and everything I get to see and learn. (A little example--this week I've been on more dairies than in any other community I've visited--Lancaster has a higher percentage of them--and now I know how to pick out a Hereshire cow and how many pounds of milk a milk truck can hold--62,000 in this particular case. And I've begun to perfect what I call 'running the gauntlet'--making it from one end of the barn to the other, in between two rows of 4 dozen cows being milked--all of whom happen to have the wrong end pointed in your direction. Yea, I've already taken a couple of indirect hits but that's what the Handi-wipes in my truck are for).
It's especially worthwhile when you run into the reaction that I did yesterday. To know that families often pass the sets down to the next generation, and just seeing kids' reactions when I bring the books back at the end of the summer is almost worth it by itself.
Vivid recollection
Along the way I've also noticed that some of the Amish have uncanny memories. The Amish as a whole tend to make careful markings of events and happenings, often inscribing names and dates in books and on gifts upon receiving them. Amish genealogies are extensive and well-documented. Amish homes often have framed embroidered hangings noting marriage dates and listing birthdays of all the children in a family.
Last summer in Elkhart County, Indiana, I ran into a bishop who had purchased the Family Bible Library set around 36 years ago, in what was likely the first year it was published.
He recalled the day the student salesperson who sold it to him delivered it--a delivery date which happened to fall just after the date of the funeral of one of his sons. The bishop recounted how the kid was moved to tears when learning of the boy's passing.
A few other Indiana Amish uncannily recalled the name of another student who'd sold them sets back in the early 80's--without having to think twice about it. All of them seemed to remember him fondly, as an animated, funny fellow. The guy must have made an impression--I can hardly remember the name of three people I met last week.
Yea, I've definitely got a cool job--this past week I visited a 'non-puppy mill'--a couple English bulldog moms and seven of the cutest and happiest-looking (and at $1450 a pop, most expensive) pups you've ever seen, stuffed myself with homemade Amish pizza twice, and learned 'boy it's really hot' and 'come eat' in PA Dutch. And I got a few Amish guys speaking some Polish in return.
After a few more weeks of this, I will be returning to Holmes County, Ohio, for an entirely different experience, to work in an Amish shop.
I must disagree that animal abuse among the Amish is the exception rather than the rule. I am attaching a long letter I wrote the the Lancaster Intelligencer Journal last week, which will likely not get published as it is too long. As you'll see, I am not an outsider to Lancaster County nor unfamiliar with the Amish.
To the editor:
Let me preface my remarks by noting that while I have not lived in this area for nearly thirty years, I grew up in Southern Lancaster County, where I lived and worked on my family’s dairy farm from the time I could help until I left for college in 1980. I also rode and showed horses during my junior high and high school years. I know the challenges of farming and that sometimes animals can be contrary and uncooperative, requiring humane correction. Let me also emphasize that I am not a member of PETA. I am not a vegetarian. In short, I am not what many Lancaster Countians would label an “animal rights’ wacko.”
That being said, I was appalled and sickened, as I believe anyone with an ounce of compassion would have been, at the scene that greeted me in the early afternoon of July 12 as I turned onto Pumping Station Road, en route back to my brother’s home near Kirkwood. I saw an Amish buggy stopped alongside the road, the horse drawing it fallen on the ground and clearly in distress, and a team of draft horses with some sort of conveyance behind them in front of the stricken horse. A rope attached to the conveyance was also attached to the fallen horse’s bridle. I assumed that the injured horse had been struck by a vehicle, but no, the young Amishman and the pre-teen Amish boy who were there casually informed me, the horse was a “balker” and had fallen to the ground after their attempts to yank him forcefully along behind the draft animals. This horse was clearly injured and in distress; he was bleeding from both his front and rear legs and from his mouth. He was also terrified; his neck was twisted at an awkward and painful angle, and he was still attached to the buggy, finding it very difficult to move. When I asked if he had broken a leg, the Amishman nonchalantly replied, “No, just a stubborn horse,” and proceeded to viciously kick this horse in the head to try to get him to stand up. They finally got the buggy removed from him, at which point more brutal kicking was delivered to both his head and hindquarters. Though the horse tried to get up, he had fallen on the road and thus had no means of traction and fell to the ground again. At this point, the Amishman suggested that I could be on my way. With my hands bloodied from where I had touched the horse’s head to try to calm him, I managed to utter in my disgust that I seriously doubted that beating the horse was going to accomplish their goal. I seemed to have little choice but to drive away, though I was tempted to call the police. As I looked in the rear-view mirror I saw another round of blows delivered to the horse’s head. It was one of the most brutal cases of animal abuse I have ever witnessed. Perhaps I should have tried to do more; perhaps making this incident public is the best I can do.
This is not the first time in my years living here and then visiting at least twice a year since I left that I have observed Amish cruelty to animals. Workhorses and mules can be seen even from the road as they are grazing with open, untreated collar sores. I’ve seen Amish families driving lame horses at a fast trot, and who hasn’t seen horses and buggies tied for hours in the hot summer sun? And we all know that some inhumane Amish breeders are key players in Lancaster County’s dubious distinction of being the puppy mill capital of the United States. Now granted, the Amish have no corner on the market of cruelty to animals. Recent stories during my visit about dog and cock fighting and alleged guinea pig abuse are testament to that. There are horrible cases of animal cruelty throughout this country. Nor, I imagine, are all Amish abusive to their stock. However, here’s the rub. The myth of the Amish is that they are a deeply religious, Christian, meek, gentle, pacifist people. As I watched that Amishman brutally abuse that injured and terrified horse, I could not help but think how such behavior flies in the face of all they profess with their faith. Yes, their Biblical injunction gives them dominion over the animals, but somehow I just can’t see the God nor the Christ they claim to worship looking down on this scene with approval. It is sheer hypocrisy. Certainly most reasonable people would agree that this brutality was a much greater sin, according to Christian theology, than having a telephone in your house.
Few in Lancaster County want to criticize the Amish because, of course, they are economic bread and butter to the region. The money depends on the mythology. I have plenty of opportunities where I now live and where I travel to answer questions about the Amish, which are always forthcoming once people find out where I’m from. They are curious about this group of people and their traditional ways. One thing you can be sure of: when asked, I will be offering the straight story – a fair one, but one that is not marked by some romanticized, false view of a gentle, consistently nonviolent people.
Posted by: CBucher | July 20, 2007 at 11:22 AM