Amish America

Interview Excerpt: An Amish builder on working moms, mortgages, and making car payments

One thing that I admire about the Amish is the value they place in maintaining a spirit of humility. 

When the idea comes up in conversation that the Amish are getting something right—for example, by the way that they live or the values they profess and adhere to--they are usually quick to deflect attention, reminding that ‘human nature is universal’, or that ‘we’re human too.’  They have their own problems and many seem to realize it. 

Yet at the same time, many Amish have strong convictions and ideas and don’t hesitate to express them.

In the following interview excerpt, an experienced Amish homebuilder shares a few ideas on home life, family, and money matters.

Workin' Out

‘For the most part amongst the Amish here, the women do not work out.,’ 'Marcus' explains.   ‘It’s frowned upon, and I agree with that idea.’

‘I build houses…all over the area.  And a lot of people, both husband and wife work outside the home.  And if they were satisfied with [it], they could really build themselves a house where they wouldn’t have to.’

‘You have both of them working, and they build a $350,000 house.  If combined they have enough income to build a $350,000 house, they would probably be just as happy with a $175,000 house, and keep Mom at home taking care of the kids.’

‘You know, no doubt in my mind that would solve a lot of the problems.  These kids come home, and I’ve been out there, I’ve seen ‘em.  These kids come home from school, there’s nobody there, they have too much idle time, and there’s nothing to do, and they get in trouble…’

‘Not all the people out there, because we build some small houses, you know, where people are scrambling to make ends meet...but then again, if people were more willing to sacrifice, instead of having two expensive vehicles out there, if they had the minimum they could get, and drive it ‘til it falls apart, instead of ‘til they find the next…’

‘And it’s a dead-end street, because you go out there and you buy a vehicle and you finance it and by the time you have it paid off it’s wore out, or people think it’s wore out.  And they trade it in, and refinance, and they always have vehicle payments.’

‘I think if people lived a little more conservatively, we’d all be better off…as a society,' Marcus summarizes.  'If Mom stayed at home, took care of the kids—less stress because they don’t have the big house payments to make, and lived in a little smaller house, but people tend to build a house as big as they absolutely can handle, and both of them have to work to make the payments.’

Stretched and strapped

‘Why do people build big houses?’  I ask.

‘I’ve built houses that were over half a million dollars, for people that borrowed every penny…yeah, they have the capital and they have the income to do it—the bank wouldn’t have given them the money if they didn’t.  But—two kids, three dogs.  They could have built a house, a real nice house, that cost $250,000.’

‘Why have all the stress of making the big house payment, when you could just as well maybe have, let’s say for example if you build a $250,000 house instead of a $550,000 house, and if you can make those payments, then make the same size payments—have that house paid off in five or six years.’

‘And then, instead of being strapped out for the next 30 years with these huge house payments—it just makes no sense.’

Buggy-friendly America

Across America in places where the Amish have set up shop, local businesses and government authorities have had to adapt some practices to accomodate the preferred Amish mode of transportation. 

Traffic Jam off County Road 77 in Holmes County, Ohio

Sometimes an Amish group showing up in an area can lead to disputes with locals over horse mess or hoof damage on roads.  The smarter businesses, or at least those that hope to attract more Amish customers, usually get a hitching post up in front as soon as possible to make themselves buggy-friendly.

Wal-Mart in Millersburg, Ohio

Road signs warn drivers of the presence of buggies.  The designs of such signs are specific to state and even individual community.  Stephen Scott's Plain Buggies contains photographs outlining the differences in buggy warning-sign design in states such as Ohio, Delaware, New York, and Pennsylvania.  Generally they all consist of black silhouettes on a yellow background, but with different artists' renditions of the vehicle.  Why the difference?  Perhaps due to the fact that they are maintained by state and local authorities rather than a federal body which might be expected to produce more uniform signage.

New Bedford, Ohio

In certain Amish communities, such as that of Allen County, Indiana, the buggy silhouette on local signs is a crude approximation of a topless carriage, as Allen County Amish use only this type.   

New Wilmington, Pennsylvania

Most Amish conform to law by utilizing some form of reflectorized material or lighting to warn drivers of their presence.  Most find this to be a sensible compromise--they allow their transportation to be adorned with a man-made symbol, yet benefit from increased safety, while promoting the safety of car-drivers as well. 

Swartzentruber Amish, Wayne County, Ohio

Interestingly, the Swartzentrubers are among the only groups which refuse to use the familiar slow-moving vehicle triangle, while the 'white-top buggy' Nebraska Amish, considered by some to be the most conservative of all Amish, choose to use the triangle.  The Swartzentrubers have been criticized for this not only by outsiders but by higher-order Amish as well. 

Nebraska Amish, Northeast Ohio

At night, bicycle riders will often trail directly behind buggies to benefit from the safety offered by the buggy's size and blinker system.  Some of these buggies are extremely well lit up.  Yet lights are not a foolproof measure of protection.

Holmes County, Ohio

I recall stopping my truck at dusk to offer help to an Allen County, Indiana family whose battery had gone out.  I had barely seen their darkened open carriage and suggested that I drive behind them to give them a little bit of protection until they reached home.  They kindly refused, as apparently they were already near their destination, and the road was just a secondary gravel road.  Good it wasn't a main one.

Near New Wilmington, Pennsylvania

Despite driver awareness, lighting and reflectors, buggies are still frequently involved in accidents with automobiles.  I've had a few close calls myself.  The trickiest thing is underestimating the speed at which they travel. 

Buggy lights appear quite similar to car lights--which is good and bad--good, as you realize that something is there, bad in that you often expect whatever it is to be traveling as fast as a car, until you realize that it's not a car at all.

Cold Case cold-cocks the Amish

I'm not a big television watcher but caught wind of the latest appearance of our friends the Amish in the media, this time propping up the plot of a CBS show called Cold Case.

Admittedly, being involved in another task at the time I could spare just one ear and one eye on the show, but what I saw and heard seemed pretty dodgy...

...from nitpicky stuff like the hairstyles being wrong to an undertone of 'these Amish are pretty far out there'--ie, one Amish girl commenting early on that pulling teeth is how 'our dentist' deals with cavities, to the obligatory '18th century kids in a 21st century world' comment, to the smug cop asking the Rumspringa-age Amish boy if he even knew where Cuba was, as if he were just a backwater hick with no education whatsoever, or at least not the 'right type' of education as the show's perpetrators may see it...

The Amish as a repressed, backwards people makes for a pretty weary storyline, but what the heck!  Let's wheel it out once again.  Should get the viewers, since we've cleverly timed it for the same week as the Nickel Mines massacre anniversary.  Throw in a dash of Rumspringa for good measure and we can't lose. 

Well, a bit of a rant, but what should I expect from Les Moonves and Viacom, the folks that brought us Amish in the City?

Them looking at us looking at them

"Don's got a lot of insight into our people.  What he writes is pretty much on the mark."

The Don in question was Donald Kraybill, and the comments made by a Lancaster dairyman who knows him well.  Kraybill was the face on the news programs following Nickel Mines last year, the most widely cited authority by reporters writing the Amish, considered America's foremost expert.

As 'Isaac' and I chatted late last night under the propane glow of the kitchen lamp, I reflected on the idea of living under a bubble as the Amish do.  I'm always curious as to what the Amish think of outsiders' portrayals and interpretations of their culture.  My ears perk up whenever one starts talking about how we talk about them.

I thought back to earlier in the summer.  A young father whose relative happens to live in the farmhouse where Witness was filmed described the movie as interesting (I didn't ask just when he viewed it), while acknowledging that some in the community wished it had never been made.

The tension (for lack of a better word) between 'us' and 'them' is always present.  In the world, but not of it, the Amish dip outside the bubble whenever a customer stops by their business, whenever they push a shopping cart through Wal-Mart aisles or heed the call of the local fire company.  Numerous Amish cherish their English friendships and the chance to engage the world.  Yet home is where the heart is.

Home and the church community are the sanctuary they return to, their unwritten dialect, clothing and custom the comfortable walls of the bubble that shield the outside from slinking too far in.

Yet many continue to yearn for modernity, a jaunt outside the world of buggies and bonnets, if even for just a bit.  Many get it through sanctioned 'release valves'--a weekend ride with a non-Amish brother, a blow-up swimming pool in the backyard, the odd trip to a ballgame or the beach.

A random outsider stopping by is another chance for some minor escapism.  I've had to tear myself away from countless conversations this summer, impelled by the necessity of continuing on with my job.  Yet many times I would have loved to indulge--as much or more for my sake as theirs.

Last night, having put the bookends to another work week, Isaac and I talked late, of Indiana trips and Poland, God and one-room schoolhouses, long after the kids had gone to bed, well after mom had settled the six-week old.  The pleasure was mutual, each enjoying the foray into the other's world. 

I left a bit wiser, but above all, grateful for the chance.

Fending off the city folk

Most Amish have a fairly healthy attitude toward tourism--and tourists can mean different things to different Amish--a slight annoyance for some, a significant profit source for others, a chance for an interesting conversation for another bunch. 

Lancaster Amish by far have the most to deal with when it comes to visitors, though if you get out of the heavily-trafficked areas such as Intercourse, Bird-in-Hand, and Strasburg, it calms down quite a bit.

Kraybill writes that one release valve for the pressure of being under constant attention from outsiders is to make some light fun of the situation.  And from the sounds of it, the tourists aren't doing themselves too many favors. 

Yesterday an Amish lawn-lighthouse builder ran through some amusing comments made by out-of-towners with me.  Many center on some city-folk's ignorance of the true origins of what they buy in the supermarket.

There is of course the standard 'Holstein cows give white milk, and the brown Jersey ones give chocolate' joke Amish dairymen like to tell.  And apparently one visitor to an Amish farm some years back asked how long it takes for the flesh to grow back after the cows are butchered.  You can be sure that one made the rounds.

This same fellow mentioned that tourism this summer was probably worse than the average.  He'd heard it was a result of the Nickel Mines publicity.  That was the first I'd heard mention of last October's incident from any of the 500+ Amish families I've met over the past 3 weeks. 

At the same time, numerous Amish have struck up meaningful relationships with vacationers.  A handful have told me of friendships going back years and including many exchanged visits with natives of my home state, North Carolina.  The Amish are often as curious about us as we are about them.
 

A 'puppy mill' returns in sheep's clothing?

The Virginia Amish dog breeder whose kennel burnt down in March may just get another crack at his trade, the Roanoke Times reports.

Promising a new facility 'with amenities that exceed U.S. Department of Agriculture requirements for breeding operations', the unlucky Amishman's case for a 'conditional use permit' was passed on to the final-decision stage Monday by the Bland County planning comission.

This despite activists, some from as far away as Utah, opposing the attempt. 

Among the potential upgrades, the owner promised outdoor run-space for his pugs, Yorkies and Chihuahuas.  "We're just trying to make an honest living as God gives us the ability to do," he explained.

The board of supervisors decides the matter later this month.  No word on how many out-of-staters are to attend.

Joining the Amish

It can be done.

About a hundred have so far, including an Ohio gentleman claiming to be 'the only Hispanic Amishman'.

Read more here.

Bonus:  even more on joining the Amish.

English in the Country

Amish tourism did not begin with Witness.  That 1985 film just made it worse (or better, depending on how you look at it, I suppose).

David Luthy, writing in The Amish Struggle with Modernity, tells us that the first Amish-themed novel came out in 1905 (wait a minute--back when many of us English were still riding around in buggies!), the first Amish postcards around 1915, and the first tourist booklets in 1937.  Oh, and the first reality show in 2004.  Can't forget that. 


After the tourist books came the tour buses and Rosanna of the Amish and Amish Acres and then Weird Al and so on and so forth.  And for many Amish (dramatic voice) life has never been the same. 

That doesn't necessarily mean worse, though.  All those tour buses that crowd the roads carry nice English folks that like quilts and hickory rockers and all sorts of homey things like that.  They also come equipped with credit cards.


At the same time, I'm sitting here thinking how bizarre it would be to have people come from 500 miles away just to drive past my house, point at me while I worked in the yard, and snap photos of my kids. 


Still, respect to the Amish, most of whom are able to ignore it, doing their best to be friendly when tourist season hits.   The worst I've ever heard is some light complaining  (i.e. 'I can't stand going into town in the summer'.  'People drive too fast'.  'Now watch me smack the camera out of that Englisher's hands.' Uhh, ok you got me.  That last one was a bit of a stretcher). 



The postcard is from a really nice site, Penny Postcards, with pictures of, you guessed it, old-timey penny postcards.  Here's one more.  Neat!

Today's tack-on: I know it's thankfully long-gone, but still couldn't resist adding this gem of a quote from a CBS fat-cat on aforementioned reality show.  Why I love Hollywood:  

"To have people who don't have television walk down Rodeo Drive and be freaked out by what they see, I think will be interesting television," said CBS chairman Leslie Moonves, who also oversees UPN. "It will not be denigrating to the Amish."

Aaah, interesting, not denigrating.  I get those two mixed up sometimes.

The Martyr's Mirror: How Amish forefathers chose to die

When selling books in Amish communities, I'm often asked if I carry the Martyr's Mirror.  This book is very popular in Amish homes today.  It is an account of the numerous Anabaptists, spiritual predecessors of the Amish, who perished on account of their faith. 

It is also a hefty tome--at over 1100 pages there are more than a handful of accounts in here.  One of the most remarkable is that of Dirk Willems.

Willems was originally captured in 1569 by 'papists' for the crime of following and promoting the idea of rebaptism, a precursor to today's Amish and Mennonite practice of adult baptism.

Willems ended up imprisoned in a tower near his home in the Netherlands. He later escaped by tying cloth together and shimmying down the walls. 

As he fled, a guard saw him and took off in hot pursuit.  Coming to a pond covered with thin ice, Willems chanced it and crossed, making it safely to the other side.  His pursuer was not so fortunate.  The 'thiefcatcher' cracked through the ice to plunge into the freezing water below.

Amazingly, instead of making an easy getaway, Willems turned back and rescued the guard from a likely death.  He was subsequently recaptured and later burned at the stake.

Apparently for Dirk Willems, to heed the cries of someone in need--even someone who wished him harm--was more important than his own life.

Stories from Anabaptist history like this one color the Amish way of thinking to the present.  Could it be that Willems' example lives on in today's Amish, as they face present-day mistreatment and misfortunes? 

The Martyr's Mirror is available to read online here.

(sources:   Mennonite Church USA Archives;  Martyr's Mirror, Thieleman J. Van Braght)

Amish tax myths

'The Amish don't pay taxes.  They're freeloaders.'

Ryan Robinson of the Lancaster New Era writes that myths such as these persist, apparently even among long-time neighbors of the Amish. 

Why the confusion? 

They are generally exempt from paying Social Security taxes, a privilege negotiated some years ago with the federal government.  But at the same time they also refrain from receiving benefits.

They feel it's better to rely on their own means to take care of the needs of the weak and aged. 

The Amish, and especially the farmers among them, pay more than their fair share of taxes to support local schools, which in any case they usually don't use.  Most of the kids go to Amish-run parochial schools.

Robinson writes:  Ask your superintendent what school district budgets would look like if the thousands of Amish children in the county all of a sudden showed up for public education.

The Amish are basically subsidizing non-Amish education. 

They're also usually contributing a lot to the local economy by attracting tourists and patronizing local businesses, as well as employing non-Amish employees in their own often thriving firms.   And Amish businessmen do pay Social Security for non-Amish workers. 

The Amish also support charitable actions in their own areas and outside,  monetarily and through contributions of time and labor.   

Et cetera.

The misinformed would do well to get informed, and give the Amish a break.  When you hear some of the not-too-infrequent anti-Amish blather on the internet and in real life, you have to wonder just who the 'ignorant' ones really are.