The Amish Are Coming! the Amish Are Coming! Part II

I am amazed - and will continue to be amazed - every time I get to see it.

It starts in the early morning. The eastern horizon, bright red while darkness is still dominant in the western-most sky. For most, the day is nowhere close to beginning. Coffee machines are gurgling and bubbling; filling nostrils with the scent of a new day as television and radio awakens our minds. With sleep still in our eyes, we strongly consider grabbing hold of the telephone, calling it quits to a workday that has not yet begun and returning to our comfortable beds with those technologically advanced mattresses that promise perfect slumber to all who lay down upon it.

The sound is heard over the morning news and the songs of the new day. Hoof beats from horses pulling wagon after wagon slowly down the road. Each wagon is loaded down with wood planks. Men and boys, dressed in dark pants, light blue button-down shirts with long sleeves and light colored round hats, sit upon each pile of boards, ready to arrive at their destination.

Another barn is about to be built by Amish hands.

Recently, I had the pleasure of following the local Amish to a nearby area where a barn was nearly finished. A day earlier, this new barn site was nothing more than a lot of land that had been unattended to for years. As I approached the men, (some of them spoke while a nod was all I could get out of others), a familiar voice called me by the name that just one person addresses me as.

"Stranger," the voice called from my left. "What are you doing here this morning?" A fellow that I know as Aaron walked toward me, his work shirt spotted with minor perspiration and boots covered with dew and sawdust.

I first met Aaron three years ago. He is a middle aged Mennonite, short of stature and beardless. Usually, he can be found on his own farm, tending to the vegetables that will soon be sold as produce from his front yard. The day we first met, he was nearly finished building my neighbor lady's garage and he was taking a break, sitting in the shade with his back against the side of the building. I was taken aback when this little man reached into his pocket and removed a cigarette. After he lit the cigarette with a match, he looked up at me. Recognizing the look of surprise on my face, he let out a little laugh. "It's alright stranger," he said, puffing on the smoke. "As long as my wife don't find out."

As I talked with Aaron, while the other Amish fellows worked on the barn, I noticed the smell of a recently smoked cigarette on his breath. I told my Mennonite friend how I was amazed and how much I respected the work ethics and craftsmanship of his people. I explained that such dedication to detail was, often times, ignored by others. I was taken away by the sheer poetic nature of the moment and I was laying it on thick, praising my friend and the work of his peers.

Aaron nodded. "Let me ask you a question, Stranger.

"Sure, Aaron. What is it?"

My friend looked around before speaking and I leaned my head closer to his so he would not have to talk so loud.

"My horse knows the way to get home, you know," Aaron said in a near whisper.

I nodded. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yes, it's true." He tapped me on the chest, smiling. "If I do not have hold of the reins, would the police be able to arrest me for drunk driving?"

I looked at my friend and he was not smiling. I did not know what to say. "Why, Aaron, I really don't know how that would work." I could not believe that I was having this conversation with this little fellow. "You don't drink alcohol, do you?" Aaron knew that I referred to the Mennonites as a whole with my last question.

"Oh, we are permitted to drink for medicinal purposes."

I laughed. "Aaron, have you been drinking today?"

My friend frowned. "No, no. But I do feel a bit of cold is coming on," he said, winking his left eye.

Now, every time I see a horse and buggy turning onto State Route 753, I cannot help to wonder if there is a drunk Amish man who is not pulling at the reins.