Jacob and His Family

Jacob has often been mentioned in these writings.  He and his family live on the Zuercher Road home farm where he grew up, son of Christy and Lovina.  Over the course of the last couple years, we've become friends.  I’ve often stopped in to chat during the evening milking when I’m walking past their place.  Their barn and farm have been the subject of many photos, and I’ve taken quite a few liberties to capture farm scenes, and even at times, to get a shot of Jacob and his boys from a distance, or when they were facing away from me.  

A couple weeks ago, some of his neighbor boys to the south were husking corn, throwing the ears into a wagon driven by a small boy who was standing on the front ladder rack of the wagon, gripping the reins and guiding a team of large draft horses.  It was an excellent photo composition, and they were quite a ways off the road, so it seemed safe to point the camera in their direction and zoom in to capture the scene.  Most often when I do things like this, the boys will wave and smile.  I try to make a point of not being close enough for them to be uncomfortable, or for them to be recognizable in the finished photo.

On this day, as I pointed the camera towards them, one boy shouted loudly and emphatically, “Stop it!”  This was a surprise, and I quickly lowered the offending instrument.  This was not a typical experience.  Because of the distance between us, it would usually have been okay.   I hoped they weren’t too upset.  Maybe they were just showing off for each other like boys do.

A few days later, I stopped in to visit with our friends Esther and Virgene who live directly across the road from Jacob.  Virgene told me that Jacob wants to speak with me.  They mused that maybe I was in trouble.  Or that perhaps he was in trouble for accepting photos from me of his farm.  I began worrying that maybe the neighbor boys had complained to him about the englisher pointing a camera at them.  All sorts of thoughts were going through my head, and none of them very pleasant.  It would be necessary to face Jacob and learn what he had in mind.

Two days later, as I drove up Zuercher Road, I saw Jacob unloading hay in his barn.  What better opportunity than this to find out what he wanted.  So I pulled in, walked up to him and commented that mid-November is pretty late to be making hay.  He agreed, and said it is taking quite a while to dry, but it will be okay.  Then I asked him what was on his mind.

“Well,”  he said, and cleared his throat, (and I thought, here it comes),  “You know we’re moving to southern Ohio, and because we have two invalid boys, we can’t take public transportation like we would usually be required to do. (The Swartzentruber sect will not hire a driver for anything but emergencies.  This is one of their rules).

“So,” he went on, “we were trying to think who we might get to drive us there, and the boys suggested Dave.”

What a relief it was to hear these words.  Nothing but good words, and I was honored to be asked.  I said I will need to check my calendar, and also mentioned that it  would be necessary to rent a van.

He spoke again, “Think about it for a few days, and let us know.  We don’t have to know right now.  We just wanted to check with you first.”

“I’d love to drive you to your new home,” I replied.  “Let me make sure it suits, and see if there is a van is available.  I’ll get back with you.”

It all worked out, and that’s the plan.  Mid-December, my friends, the Jacob Hershberger family, will load up in a van, and trust their lives to the Zuercher Road walking man.  I’m going to miss them.  They’ve been genuinely kind and gracious, not only to me, but to other neighbors as well.

The other day I stopped in to see Virgene and Esther again.  They’re going to miss Jacob and his family the most.  The teenage girls often come to help Virgene with house cleaning and assisting her with 105-year-old Esther.  They have a very loving relationship with each other.  In fact, as I sat visiting with Esther, Jacob’s daughter Susan came over and dropped off the mail.  She went directly to the kitchen and began washing the dishes.  As she worked, Virgene commented to her, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without my neighbor girls.”  Susan was quick to reply, “And I don’t know what we’re going to do without you, Virgene.”

This has been a friendship that spans the generations.  Virgene has been retired for quite a few years, and has lived in this neighborhood all her life.  She’s watched forty-five-year-old Jacob grow up as a boy right there on that same farm.  She’s been there as Jacob and Anna raise their many children, who now help her.  Jacob and his children have no memories of when Virgene and Esther were not there.

How sweet it is to have good neighbors, and it doesn’t matter if they are Amish or English, a different race or culture.  Good neighbors are a gift, and it is wonderful to have them.  And here’s the thing.  In most cases, the best and easiest way to have good neighbors is to be a good neighbor.

From Kidron, Ohio, here’s to a wonderful weekend in this Advent season. Blessings from us to you and yours.  So long.