Don’t be fooled by terrible shows like Amish Mafia. Please don’t waste your time. There is no Amish Mafia. Pretty sure you knew that. It’s all about money, folks.
Quoted from Wikipedia: The series has been controversial both locally and in national media as a result of its alleged bigoted and inaccurate portrayal of the Amish. Churches and Lancaster County residents have banded together in opposing the show. Additionally, former Pennsylvania Governor Tom Corbett called for the show's cancellation, saying it was "bigoted" and "an affront to all people of faith and all secular people with moral principles.
And we’ll leave that right there.
One thing is true though, the Amish are just like other people, and have some of the same problems facing humans in general. Abuses also happen among them, and too often go unreported because of their desire to remain separate from the world. But that’s changing too. Abusers are being reported, and they must face the music just like anyone else. There is something the Amish do right, and we could learn a lot from them. That’s what I want to talk about.
The community of Amish around here, particularly the Swartzentrubers, don’t make a big deal about anything. They just go about life, keeping a low profile, raising large families, doing what needs to be done to keep families together and food on the table. Farming is the preferred method to achieve this, but large families and dwindling available acreage have diminished the ability for a lot of them to continue farming around here. For this reason, many have moved to other places and states to find farmland. Others stay home and figure out other ways to make a living.
Logging and carpentry, large truck patches (vegetable plots), furniture builders, and numerous cottage industries have sprung up all over. Amish entrepreneurs abound—anything to bring in some cash for living.
You can go for a drive in the countryside and find any number of primitive signs at the ends of driveways advertising baked goods, eggs, brooms, rugs, canned goods, hand-woven baskets, quilts, comforters, wall-hangings, rabbits, goats, sheep, furniture, maple syrup, sorghum molasses, and very soon now, strawberries and vegetables. Their prices are good, and the quality is usually excellent.
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| This sign is between Mt. Eaton and Dalton, on route 94. |
There’s a Swartzentruber Amish fellow by the name of Eli G. that sits out at the end of Kidron Rd—right beside Shisler’s Cheese House—nearly every day when the weather permits. He sells high quality products made by himself and others. He’s a friendly guy—always a smile and a wave if you’re driving by—and good conversation if you stop. I did stop, for the first time last Saturday. I was looking for an item he didn’t have on display. In the conversation, I learned that Saturday was the fourth anniversary of his first wife’s death. He said it kind of matter-of-factly between bites of tortilla chips. He must have been thinking about her.
I asked Eli how the sales were going, and he said it had been a little slow for a Saturday. A couple rugs and some jars of canned beets, but no baskets yet. He makes the baskets and his present wife makes the wall hangings. He sells the other items for other people—a good example of how the Amish look out for each other. What I wanted was a straw hat. I know I could go to Kidron Town and Country and buy one, but I’d like to have one that was hand-made right here in the community. Eli looked a little skeptical at my request, but he told me who makes them. I wondered out loud if he thought they might not want to make a hat for an “Englishman”. He wasn’t sure. I will find out. My hunch is, if a dollar can be made, they’ll do it.
It’s the barn raisings that really paint the most graphic picture of how the Amish community comes together to help each other. It was fun to observe the next best thing the other day, when an old barn was given a face-lift. All the old roofing and siding was torn off, as well as the roof rafters and runners. Nothing left but the main frame—a skeleton waiting to be rebuilt. I thought it might happen last Thursday, so I drove by, but there was not a soul in sight. That’s when I remembered that it was Ascension Day. Forty days after Easter, the Amish pause for a day of remembrance on the day Jesus ascended back into heaven. It’s like a Sunday for them.
So Friday I drove past the farm again, and took some photos of men crawling all over the barn, rebuilding and reskinning it. By day’s end, the job was done. This is what the Amish do right. Can you imagine tackling a job like that with family and a couple friends. Or, hiring a crew to do it with a crane? This is one of the ways they look out for each other, and it’s a beautiful thing.
The project began last winter when the Stutzman family was cutting trees in their woods, and dragging out the logs, lining them up beside the saw mill. I had no idea what they were logging for, but now I know. Later this spring the family saw-mill was up and running, and they were cutting many different sizes of lumber. It’s all there now, under the nice new metal roof. And at a very minimal cost. Trees from their woods, and no labor cost. All mutual aid. The expense for the job was the new steel. There will be another project very similar to this at the Jacob H. farm in the near future. I hope to get some shots of that one too.
Tonight as I walked, two of Jacob’s teenage boys were running their saw-mill, getting ready for the barn project. Some new block wall is up, and the barn expansion project is under way. Teenage son Henry told me how they will be tearing an old part off, and rebuilding larger. This will be even more like a barn-raising than the Stutzmans last week.
A few days ago I stopped and talked with Jacob for a while. He was just inside the barn, milking a cow by hand. His teenage daughter was also milking next to him. They both sat on tiny stools and had buckets between their legs—and with strong arms and hands, were swiftly milking the cows. Jacob said they’re milking sixteen right now. Red and white Holsteins. Beautiful cows, with nice udders. This fellow knows his cows, and he’s got good ones, with really nice body conformation and large udders with good attachment. I don’t know everything about cows, but learned a little bit during my time on the farms in Southern Ohio, and can recognize a decent cow. It was a good education, with Jim, Lisa, Matt, and Phil taking time to teach me some of the finer points of dairy husbandry. I will always love those days—with wonderful memories.
Most of the Amish around here milk their cows by hand, and because of that, and several other factors, the milk cannot be sold as Grade A. When you pour milk on your cereal, you can be sure it did not come from a Swartzentruber Amish farm. Laws are what they are for mostly good reasons, but the truth is, there are some Amish that I’d rather buy grade B milk from than some of farms I’ve seen that sell grade A. The milk is tested though—both grades A and B—for bacteria, antibiotics, somatic cell count, temperature, as well as by sight, and a good sniffing for odor.
Grade B milk ends up in other products like butter and the fantastic cheeses that are made around here. You may think of Wisconsin when you think of cheese, but in my almost-humble opinion, the best cheese anywhere is made in Holmes County by the Guggisberg Cheese factory a few miles south of here. There are other excellent cheese factories around here too, but Guggisberg Swiss cheese has been my favorite for a long time. And the experts agree. Guggisberg has a long list of awards, and has been Grand Champion in a lot of Ohio competitions, but as of last year, they won the United States Cheese Championship. Reigning champs, they are! Great cheese! And it starts right there in Jacob’s barn.
We’ve taken a little rabbit trail since starting with the Amish non-Mafia, and ending with Championship Swiss Cheese. It’s all tied up with the Amish though—the good folks who live quiet lives, helping each other, producing fine milk to make great cheese. For the most part, they are really good people, and I’m happy to have them for neighbors.
And that’s all from the our lovely little home town of Kidron, Ohio, where all the homely men work hard at keeping the kids in line, and keeping Mama happy, because as they say, “when Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” So long.
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