Amish and proud

Here's something I wrote to describe my dinner at an Amish household. The dinner happened just a few days before my mother was to teach about the Amish in her sociology class, so I wrote about my experience as follows:

We arrived at the Amish house just at dusk on a very windy day. The
mother came out to meet us in her dark blue dress, which she held in a
bunch by her knees while waving us in with the other hand. There were
about 20 of us, and as we filed in she told us "welcome to our home"
with an accent that seemed almost Irish, but only because it had a
sing-song quality to it.

Inside, we sat around their two large tables set up end to end between
the dining room and the kitchen. The house itself wasn't so different
from any other rural Pennsylvania farmhouse. The father had built it
himself in 1982, when, judging by his looks, he must have been in his
mid 20s. There were no light switches, but rather lanterns that looked
like nice ceramic lamps, hanging from hooks above the table and
hissing with the sound of burning gas. They had a sink with running
water, and even a gas-powered refrigerator.

It was a family of ten. Mom was clearly the boss of the house, and the
dad, mostly silent, looked like he could crack a walnut in his fist.
They had two boys and six girls, ranging in age from two to eighteen
years. The five oldest kids were buzzing around helping to set things
up while the three youngest girls played in an adjoining room. Every
one of these children was as blond as could be.

As soon as we all sat down the food started coming. But before we
could eat, the mother asked that we join them in a silent blessing,
which is how they prefer to pray. So we all put our heads down for
about ten seconds of silence, until she said amen. Then it was off to
the races. For starters there was warm bread, cut in thick slices,
which we slathered with the homechurned butter and fruit preserves
they had sitting out on the table. Then tray after tray of chicken in
gravy, followed by tray after tray of thick-cut ham. Then came the
corn, cut off the cob. Then the smashed potatoes, applesauce, peas,
green beans, and rice. We had no choice but to start stuffing our
faces if we wanted to make it out of there before midnight.

Amidst the feeding frenzy, I was looking around at the house. I know
that the most traditional Amish homes don't put up any decorations on
the walls, but this family had alot of the same kinds of things you
find in Christian homes all over America: Thomas Kinkade paintings;
inspirational poems; the fruits of the spirit written out in cursive,
etc.

But even if their wall hangings were a little modern, their dress was
straight up Amish. The dad and the boys all wore black pants with
simple black suspenders and no belts. Their shirts were long-sleeved
and dark blue or charcoal, buttoned right up to the neck. Mom and the
girls all had long-sleeved dresses; the youngest girls were allowed to
wear pink or purple, while the rest wore blues or greys. The reason
for this is that children are seen as naturally innocent, so they
won't use the bright colors as a mark of pride or individualism. The
idea behind the clothing is to remind them that they are part of a
community, so they don't place any value on making fashion statements
or doing their own thing, in fact they regard these as sinful. By the
time a girl is in her early teens, she's wearing the plain colors. By
her mid-teens, she will always wear a well-starched gauzy head
covering.

When they weren't talking to the guests, the family spoke to each
other using the low German dialect. This language was originally
spoken in Germany near the Swiss border. There were three German guys
in our group who were listening to the family and couldn't understand
any of what they were saying, which means that the language has
morphed quite a bit in the last 150 years or so.

After dinner we chatted with the family. I asked if they were farmers,
and the dad said that it was hard for all the Amish to farm at the
same time, so he made kitchen cabinets instead. Inevitably, the Nickel
Mines school shooting came up, though it was the mother, not us, who
mentioned it. Without getting very emotional, she said that it had
happened only about five miles away, and that they knew some of they
families who had lost children. Someone from our group told her that
people from all over the world had been amazed at the forgiveness that
the Amish community showed after the tragedy. She simply replied that
that was how they were raised, as if they wouldn't even know how to
respond in any other way.

After that, there was a dessert of cocounut cream pie, peanut butter
pie, and chocolate cake with thick frosting. It was over the top for
sure, but we didn't even want to say no.