Sarabeth’s Rumspringa
When Amish youth reach their sixteenth birthday, they enter into that right of passage called rumspringa. It literally means ‘running around.’ The wisdom behind it, originally at least, was that before they join church with a vow of life-long membership, teenagers be given time to see what their other more worldly options in life might be. This running around usually consists of the young people gathering in a barn on a Saturday evening for singing, snacks, board games and such. It gives them the opportunity to meet young people from other districts. Of course, like everything else, some have abused the privilege and drinking parties, and even experimenting with drugs and driving cars (that are hidden later under haystacks) do occur. Most parents hope, at least, that they’ve instilled good values into their children and can trust them not to throw caution to the wind and end up regretting their choices during rumspringa.
*
Sarabeth was incorrigible. Amish girls are supposed to be demure, submissive, quiet, and respectful, right? The list goes on: innocent, subservient, docile, meek, dutiful. Their sole duty in life is to serve Gott, their families, and their neighbors. To live a godly life. The Bible mapped this out beginning with the Ten Commandments. The Amish Ordnung picked up on the details after that, clearly and sometimes not so clearly instructing those adherents in all things holy. Parents’ duties thus require them to mold their children into observant members of this society. Proverbs 22:6 promises, ‘Train children in the right way, and when old, they will not stray.’ Armed with a clear path to follow, generations of Amish have lived.
All except Sarabeth, it seemed. It appeared she was bound and determined to flout the norm. As in everything. She wore her dresses too tightly fitting. She flirted constantly. She spoke in a loud belligerent voice, especially when contradicting her parents. Though they had tried to bend this errant branch, she resisted all means of direction. Discipline didn’t work, in spite of her parents’ consistent and united attempts on that front. They tried from little on to praise her when she complied and ignore the naughty behavior, hoping for a happier child, more willing to please. They showered her with love along with the other kinner but to no avail. Concerned family and friends offered their own advice and the ministers warned the parents repeatedly that they must take this daughter in hand.
The tantrums when she was two were truly terrible. At three she would go stomping outside if she couldn’t get her way, her mother having to leave the other children in the house to run after her and bodily carry her back. The time-out chair was a joke. How do you tie down a hysterical four-year old? By five, Dat often had to be called from the barn to assist Mamm in the house with the unhappy child.
Mamm tried everything including changing the family’s diet, completely ridding the house of sugar and artificial additives and colors. Then Mamm finally wrote to The Budget, the Amish-Mennonite newspaper that brings news of the Plain world to each other throughout North and South America, asking for any advice from its readers. All of a sudden the mailbox was full of cards and letters from people who wrote back with suggestions and encouragement.
“She will outgrow it. Just show love,” one wrote. “We had one like that. Just make sure the parents don’t argue or disagree in front of the children.” Another chimed in, “Are you sure you aren’t sparing the rod and spoiling the child?” the post card asked. Then one came that had them all laughing: “If you don’t want her, we’ll take her. Address below.” (from Mexico!) In theory, the suggestions should have worked, but theory is often far from actual reality or fact.
When she reached twelve, they sent her to live with her mammi and doddy, hoping beyond hope that the grandparents could somehow effect a miracle. She had been tasked with helping the old people, a job many young girls dreamed of. When that didn’t prove successful, they even resorted to bribery. If she would only listen and respect her parents, be helpful around the house and obedient when asked. They knew she wanted a pony. Her dresser top was filled with plastic ponies of every size and color, even little technicolor ones with bushy tails she could comb. She had been collecting them since she was three. Loud exclamations of horses neighing or shouts of whoa! and Gay! (walk on) could be heard throughout the house still whenever she played with her teams of horses in the room she shared with her two sisters.
She had recently been offered the bribe: a pony of her own if she could rein in her waywardness for just a month. She decided to think on this a while. Could she do it? What would she gain? Well, a pony for one. Could she actually keep her mouth shut and not let the errant words erupt without a second thought? Two days later she brought up her verdict at breakfast. Yes, she’d try. It lasted all of one day.
She really wanted that pony. Badly. One morning Sarabeth snuck into the kitchen on bare feet and sat at the table. Her mother didn’t notice her until she turned away from the wood stove to fetch a spoon in order to test the gravy.
“Oh! I didn’t hear you kumm in,” she said, flustered. No tornado today? Her mamm thought to herself. Should I hold my breath?
“Mamm,” Sarabeth began. “I just don’t see why I have to be like everyone else. Like some little pawn on a chessboard. My mind just doesn’t think that way. I want to be free to think what I want and do what I want. It doesn’t hurt anyone else. Why do we have to be like little faceless dolls all lined up in a row? Our cows run free in the pasture all day. Our cats play in the barn and climb and chase mice, and the horses frolic all over the place until we hitch them up and trot them to town or church. I just can’t see it,” she exclaimed, her voice edging up in volume.
“Well, yes, we could all live like animals but then what would the country look like?” Mamm asked, slipping onto the bench at the table with a mug of coffee. “Gott gave us brains so we could live civilized lives. Every generation tries hard to find the perfect balance to be peaceful and joyful and prosper. Some choose to live in the world spending their lives craving things and working mighty hard to get it all. Some decide to serve Gott and work out what He requires for us to live that out in harmony.” At this point Mamm took a sip of coffee before she went on, letting that sink in.
“He doesn’t mean for us to just conform mindlessly, but we aren’t the only fish in sea. We have to get along, too. The rules, the Ordnung, just help us keep that simple. Sure, you can make it all very complicated and spend a whole lifetime throwing out this rule or that suggestion, but we Amish also believe in grace, that Gott will give us the faith to believe in this life and then live it joyfully. It’s our choice. Those who rally against Gott and chase something else often find themselves just as ferhoodled, (flummoxed,) wondering which way is better. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side of the fence, my dear.”
Mamm quietly watched as Sarabeth tried to take that in, all the while praying that something she said would make a connection there.
“Are you up to collecting eggs now?” Mamm asked, hoping to give her daughter some time to ponder these things.
“Sure,” Sarabeth said, popping up, heading for the mud room and grabbing the egg basket there. Sarabeth’s Mamm was surprised there was no objection to that request. Humph. Maybe we are getting somewhere, she thought to herself. Dear Lord, please give us wisdom… and patience.
***
Phoebe’s mother had written to her cousin in Ohio asking if her daughter, Sarabeth, might be interested in working as a maud away from home for a while. Mamm was hoping that Faith would welcome a live-in mother’s helper, freeing the older fraus from taking turns being at the farm so she wouldn’t feel lonely or depressed. They were more than willing to help, hoping that the despair she had experienced in the beginning that lasted for weeks, right after the buggy accident would not return again.
Her cousin, Lovina had written back a short letter, effusively grateful for the opportunity for her daughter. Phoebe’s Mamm had heard whisperings about this difficult child before, but hoped she was growing out of it, whatever ‘it’ was. Her cousin certainly didn’t elaborate, but just seemed very anxious to farm the girl out. Mamm figured they’d just have to see if this scheme would work when she arrived.
Faith thought it was a gut idea when Phoebe’s Mamm explained the plan. She was deeply grateful for everything everyone in the Amische settlement had done for her, but she was starting to feel like it should be time for her to stop depending on them all, taking so many away from their own homes and duties there. She could certainly say if it wasn’t a good idea after a few days with the girl.
Sarabeth was due to arrive in a week on the Greyhound bus. The letter was signed by the girl’s mother. A short P.S. was the only vague indication that that the girl might not have been completely in agreement with her new assignment. “She is young and hasn’t been away from home to work before, but we insist that she try this.” Not much to go on. Well, this can’t be too hard, Faith told herself. Faith, of course, had no idea what they were in for.
***
Sarabeth was all of seventeen. She had barely scraped through the eighth grade in school, her final year of formal education, thinking she knew as much if not more than the new teacher who was only three years her senior. It had been Betty’s first year teaching and the tall, rail-thin girl with her attitude was enough to make her seriously consider giving up teaching. But she didn’t. She knew that Sarabeth would not be back next term, so Betty willed herself not to cry in front of her students and not give up.
***
Sarabeth’s mamm was furiously sewing new dresses for her before she’d leave for Wisconsin on the weekend. Sarabeth insisted she didn’t need them but Mamm put her foot down saying she did and she wasn’t letting any child of hers go away in the tracht she had been hanging onto these last two years. They weren’t presentable or even modest. The battle had raged on all day and into the evening when Dat came home and put an end to the rowing.
“You will only take your new dresses and that is that,” he said, laying down the final word on the matter. “And you will see how you can help the poor frau whenever possible. She has been through the ringer, losing her family and all. You will be polite, obedient and friendly.”
“You will write to us, won’t you?” Mamm asked.
“I guess so,” was her noncommittal answer.
“You will, missy!” her father insisted, looking up from reading The Budget.
“Okay. I’ll try. I really will, Dat. And Mamm, I will let you know how it is. I do hope they let me go to the singings and all…” she began. Dat cut her off right there.
“Your first task is to help at home. Don’t go off wherever or whenever your whim takes you. You have a job to do. It doesn’t end just because there is a party or a singing. You got that?” he demanded.
“Yes, Dat,” she answered.
“Now try this one on so I can hem it,” Mamm asked. Taking the dress upstairs Sarabeth soon came back down looking like a new girl.
“It’s perfect!” Mamm exclaimed.
“Now, that’s how you should look,” her dat added, peering over the top of the newspaper.
She hated to admit it, but the sky-blue dress was beautiful, and it felt so new and pretty.
“Denke, Mamm,” she said with a shy smile.
“Kumm here so I can pin the hem.”
Her first thought was to tell Mamm not to make it too long in the hem, but she decided against that. Mamm knew how to make dresses and the truth was Sarabeth had never even sat down at a sewing machine. Mamm had begged her to learn to sew but gave up trying in the end, worn down by the constant retorts. Maybe going away will make her more reasonable, Mamm thought to herself. Young people often think their lot is the worst possible and rebel, at least until they see how other families struggle under their hardships. At this rate no one will want to marry her. She can’t sew or cook or be agreeable most days. Lord, please help us do the right thing for her….
That night Dat brought down the suitcase from a shelf in their bedroom closet. Mamm had even made a pretty zippered toiletry bag and filled it with a new hairbrush, a new toothbrush and various things Sarabeth would need. They shared mugs of cocoa before their prayers together and then turned in for the night.
***
Phoebe, her mamm and Faith sat at the kitchen table. She could ride home in the buggy when Dat came to pick Mamm up or she could spend the night, though Faith’s mamm often came for the night shift.
Faith was doing so much better now, running the farm quite efficiently with the two boova she’d hired, brothers from one of the neighboring Amish farms up the road. In spite of being so young—only sixteen and seventeen—the two boys had been trained well. They drove up in their little trap buggy at five sharp even in the rain, every morning. They got right to work mucking out the stalls in the barn, feeding and watering the animals before they milked all the cows and then led them to the pasture for the day.
***
He showed up with the buggy just as Phoebe was serving dessert. There were still plenty of desserts showing up at Faith’s house, proof that she wasn’t forgotten by her Amish neighbors, even after all these months. They insisted Dat sit down and enjoy the lemon sponge pie with them, which he didn’t refuse. He had brought Faith’s mother who would spend the night, relieving Phoebe and her mamm.
They rode quietly in the buggy on the way home. Finally Dat cleared his throat.
“I had a visit from Faith’s dat today,” he began. “He’d gotten a letter from some relative of his who is a bishop up in Manitoba, Canada at that new settlement up there,” he explained.
“He wanted to know if I thought Faith might be ready to consider marrying again. He knew Phoebe and you, Mamm, have been pretty involved with the whole situation these last months.”
“But it’s hardly been a year, Dat!” Phoebe shot back, horrified.
He agreed, “yes, but they would still want plenty of time to get to know each other and visit maybe, back and forth, ya know. There’s a widower up there who lost his wife last year. It was cancer. She was only thirty-five. She left six kinner.”
“Oh my,” Phoebe declared. “It’s so far away from her family. I couldn’t imagine leaving here if it were me.”
“He could always kumm this way, ya know. They might not even like each other. We’d just have to wait and see. Next time you’re at Faith’s place, you could tactfully propose the idea,” he added.
“Oh, I just don’t know,” Mamm said, worrying her handkerchief. “I’d say she’s still a bit fragile, for all the determination and gumption she puts on.”
“But is anyone ever ready after so much heartache?” Dat asked.
Phoebe was still shaking her head. “I think it is too soon, Dat.”
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll pray on it then.”
***
Sarabeth was leaving later that night on the Greyhound bus. There was only one bus a day going out of the closest town to them in Ohio. Dat had hired a Mennonite friend who often drove a shuttle through the area to pick her up at ten P.M. She had never been on a trip like this before, or on a coach at all, much less for twenty-four hours. Eastern Ohio was that far from western Wisconsin. At least it was with all the ‘milk stops’ along the way. That’s what Dat called them, the tiniest towns still on Greyhound’s route.
Sarabeth’s mamm had made her favorite supper, hinkel roasht.
“Do they stop for bathrooms on the way?” Julie Sue who was five wanted to know as soon as the silent prayer was over.
“They stop at all the towns on the way, but they tell everyone how much time they’ve got before the bus has to leave again. They have a tiny bathroom at the back of the bus though,” Dat explained. “They stop and change drivers at designated points, usually at a big truck stop with a restaurant where they’ll give you a meal break for an hour.”
Looking directly at Sarabeth, he continued. “You are not to talk to any men or boys on the bus. At all. I mean it. Did you get that?” he asked.
“Yes, but what if they talk to me first?” Sarabeth wanted to know.
“It doesn’t matter. All sorts of people travel by bus and you can never know what they have on their minds. They could even be downright dangerous. You don’t know what they’re up to, so you just don’t get involved. Your cousin Phoebe’s dat will be there to meet you tomorrow. It’s all arranged.”
“Okay,” Sarabeth answered soberly, uneasy for the first time since they’d planned the trip.
“I’ll give you enough money for meals along the way and we’ll pack up some fruit and sandwiches, too. I don’t expect any problems,” he concluded.
Mamm had been sitting thoughtfully and finally spoke. “You know, our dress is a witness to what we believe. Don’t flaunt that. It is also a protection. Our kapp or bonnet also tells the outside world what we believe and Who we are living for. Act modestly and you will be protected.”
“Okay. Now you are making me nervous,” Sarabeth said.
“Will there be cowboys on the bus?” Jethro cut in. He was six.
“Probably not,” Dat said chuckling.
Then Eliza Jane who was four asked from her highchair, “when are you coming home, Sarabeth? I’ll miss you,” she said tearfully.
“The time will go fast,” Sarabeth assured her. “And I’ll bring you home a present when I come back.”
Eliza Jane furiously clapped her hands then, inadvertently flinging her fork across the kitchen floor with its contents landing somewhere along the way. No wonder they often called her Calamity Jane.
The van arrived right on time with nine other passengers all destined for the Greyhound station. Two hours later they were dropped off at the border of Holmes and Wayne Counties.
Sarabeth was far too excited to sleep. She looked at all the people sleeping on the bus as she found an empty seat next to a little old grandma who was wide awake, furiously knitting away.
“Oh, hullo, dearie,” she said. “How far are you going?”
“Green Bay, Wisconsin,” Sarabeth answered. “And you?”
“Oh, I get off in Minneapolis. It’s a long trip so I’m glad for someone to talk to,” she explained. “I’ve been visiting my grandbabies in Pittsburg and going back home now. They are cute but they sure do wear you out. I’ll need a vacation just to recuperate,” she said. She drew out a Tupperware container from her knitting bag. “Cookie?” she offered Sarabeth.
The next stop was in another small town along the route. A very large man got on the bus which immediately took off again as he staggered down the aisle looking for a seat, passing Sarabeth and the old lady but not before Sarabeth recognized that he was Amish. The hook and eye clasps on his jacket were a dead give-away, as were his broad fall or barn door trousers. So was the long beard without a mustache, a very conservative Amische giveaway; maybe even one of the ultra-orthodox Schwartzentruber Amish from Cambria County, Pennsylvania. She soon forgot about him as the woman chatted on and on. Sarabeth found herself nodding off.
***
She woke as the bus pulled into a truck stop around five a.m. The driver turned on the speaker system and announced an hour breakfast stop. It would be good to get up and stretch a bit and have something hot to drink. The old lady stuck by Sarabeth, which was fine with her. They found a booth and sat down together. A waitress came by a minute later and took their order. While they were waiting Sarabeth looked out over the vast parking lot from where she was seated. There were trucks parked or idling as far as you could see. Then she saw the Amish man waiting by a curb on the service road near the truck lot. A car drove up and stopped in front of him and a woman got out. She walked around the car, tip-toeing in her high heels, and talked to him for a few minutes before he got into the passenger seat. That was odd, Sarabeth thought to herself. That Englische woman looks pretty fancy to me with all that hair and makeup and those clothes. The world sure seemed like a strange place to her just then. Dat must have been right. It could be downright dangerous out here, she told herself.
The long journey was finally coming to an end. The bus driver announced over the PA system that they would be in Green Bay, Wisconsin in two hours. Sure enough, there was Phoebe’s dat, her mother’s cousin’s husband wearing a straw hat, sporting a full salt and pepper beard standing with a van driver right outside where the busses pulled in.
“Sarabeth!” he called as she came down the steps. “Gut to see you. How was your trip?” he asked.
“It was for sure loooong,” she complained with a dramatic flourish. “And you can’t really sleep with people talking and the driver announcing every whistle stop along the way.”
“Well, let’s get you home and rested up first, eh?” Dat offered. “Do you want anything to eat before we head out? It’s over an hour to our place by van.”
“Um, may I have a hamburger and some fries? Please? The last meal stop was at lunch time. Sadie had plenty of cookies—that’s the old lady I sat with—but you can’t eat just cookies.”
“Sure thing. We’ll go into the truck stop here and grab some things for the way home,” Dat offered.
“Thank you very much,” she politely answered. Sarabeth was determined to make a decent impression, otherwise she was in danger of being sent home before she even started working, she figured.
They settled into the van after Dat carried the suitcase over, balancing a coffee in his other hand. “Have we got everything then?” he asked. The driver nodded as he sipped his super-size coke.
“Yup! I mean… yes, sir,” Sarabeth said catching herself. This wasn’t going to be easy, she realized, but she still thought it would be well worth it. New friends, new boys, singings, keeping house with Faith, maybe even getting to ride some horses. I hope the baby isn’t colicky or fussy. That would be a bummer, a super bummer, she thought to herself. Downright awful.
“You’ll stay the night with us and catch up on your sleep before we take you over to Faith’s farm tomorrow. That way you’ll be ready to jump in and help,” Dat explained.
They finally arrived home. Phoebe’s mamm had stayed up and had a pot of chamomile tea and her famous rhubarb crumble should they want a snack before bed. They couldn’t convince the driver to stay for snack and waved him off after Dat paid him generously.
Sitting around the table Sarabeth regaled the family with snippets of everything she saw on the trip, including the mysterious Amish man. Dat and Mamm both looked down at their hands folded in their laps then, shaking their heads. Finally Dat spoke. “The devil sure has his ways, eh?” though Sarabeth still didn’t understand what it all meant.
“I smelled the wunderbar snack,” Phoebe said as she shuffled into the kitchen from the dawdi haus followed by Stephen and pulled up a chair. Mamm reached over from where she sat and grabbing more dessert plates, cut two squares of the crumble and passed them to Phoebe and Stephen who introduced themselves.
“This is my wife, Phoebe, I’m Stephen, and I can tell you’ve noticed the twins, too,” he said chuckling. Sarabeth’s eyes had become as big as saucers when Phoebe came into the kitchen and slowly sat down, pulling her robe around her girth, though it no longer reached fully across.
“Oh, wow,” was all Sarabeth could squeak.
Finally, after the family prayed, and with everyone in bed, Mamm turned toward Dat and whispered, “Well, she seems nice enough. A little young, but it’ll be gut for her, eh?”
“Pretty naïve I’m guessing. We’ll keep an eye on her and check in with Faith to make sure it’s all going okay,” he answered as he reached his arm over, laying it on her shoulder with an affectionate squeeze.
“Mm,” Mamm said as she kissed him goodnight.
***
Sarabeth was quite settled in after the first week at Faith’s house. They got along well, though it was all so new to Sarabeth. Faith lined up jobs for her to do every morning at breakfast. It wasn’t like being at home with Mamm who would just holler orders all day long as she thought of things that needed doing. It would drag on from morning till night, enough to make anyone crazy, Sarabeth thought to herself. Faith’s way of organizing the day didn’t seem like having the same pressure. Sarabeth knew what was needed and could take her time. Faith was still young, as far as Sarabeth was concerned. Mamm was already an old grossmammi. Maybe that was the difference. Dat wasn’t around to bark orders at her either. Faith never checked up on her when she was baking or doing the laundry. She just explained everything first and then left it to Sarabeth, like she really trusted her. That was a gut feeling.
Before supper each evening Sarabeth would watch the baby while Faith collected eggs. If it was a particularly nice day, Faith would put Patience in the laundry basket and park it between the clothes lines while Sarabeth unclipped the dry clothes and Faith collected eggs and closed up the chicken coop for the night. Patience would kick her chubby legs and coo as if trying to sing along with Sarabeth while she worked. The bobbel wasn’t a fussy baby at all, which was a huge relief to Sarabeth. But now that Saturday had almost come, she was trying to think up a way to ask Faith if she could go to the singing in their district the next night. Dat had told her not to even think about it, just to do her job. But there might be some really nice boova, she thought to herself and maybe I’ll even find my husband while I am here, she continued to dream. Surely Gott already had the perfect mate in mind. It was just up to her to find him and she didn’t want to waste even one Saturday while on her mission.
When Amish youth reach their sixteenth birthday, they enter into that right of passage called rumspringa. It literally means ‘running around.’ The wisdom behind it, originally at least, was that before they join church with a vow of life-long membership, teenagers be given time to see what their other more worldly options in life might be. This running around usually consists of the young people gathering in a barn on a Saturday evening for singing, snacks, board games and such. It gives them the opportunity to meet young people from other districts. Of course, like everything else, some have abused the privilege and drinking parties, and even experimenting with drugs and driving cars (that are hidden later under haystacks) do occur. Most parents hope, at least, that they’ve instilled good values into their children and can trust them not to throw caution to the wind and end up regretting their choices during rumspringa.
***
The wire egg basket deposited back in the mud room off the kitchen, ready to wash, Faith headed back out to the yard to fetch her baby. Sarabeth hoisted up the dry laundry in the other basket and together they went into the house. Faith had started the soup earlier that they would have for supper and it sat simmering on the back of the stove, the wonderful aroma permeating the house. The batter for apple fritters was ready to fry.
“Oh let me make those. I know how,” Sarabeth insisted when Faith put the pan of oil on the wood stove to heat. Faith was pretty sure that Sarabeth really didn’t know how to make fritters after several disasters and near disasters she had encountered in the kitchen over the past week, each time prefaced with Sarabeth’s assurances that she knew what she was doing. Faith was ready this time with her most tactful response.
“Well, I learned these from my mamm,” Faith began quickly, “and she makes them a little different from most people. Let me show you just one or two,” she said as she muscled her way closer to the stove, convincing Sarabeth that she should watch. She was trying so hard to butter up Faith before she popped the delicate question about going to the singing.
Faith placed Patience in her highchair and secured her with one of her late husband’s
suspenders that she had altered for that purpose. Noah had died more than six months earlier when his horse and buggy were crossing the railroad tracks on the edge of town at a blind corner after a morning of running errands and shopping in town. Both of their little daughters, Hope and Charity had also died in the crash. Faith had been at home that fateful day with her tiny baby Patience.
***
The piping hot chicken-corn chowder thickened with Saltines was just the thing for the chilly April evening. For dessert they would see if they could make a dent in the Shoo-fly pie that had arrived just that morning.
As Faith cut into the sticky sweet pie, Sarabeth took her chance.
“I was wondering if maybe I could, ya know, go to the youngie singing, like… um… tomorrow night?” she nervously asked, then quickly held her breath. She hoped beyond hope that Faith would not only allow it but perhaps even encourage it. There was a boyfriend out there for sure, if not a husband, Sarabeth was convinced.
“Sure,” Faith said sitting down and cutting into the pie. She fed Patience a tiny piece which the baby quickly tongued around her mouth as her arms waved and her pudgy feet kicked the chair, expressing her delight at the gooey stuff.
“You should ride along with the barn boova when they leave tomorrow afternoon,” Faith continued. “I am sure they will drive you home afterwards too. It would be fun. You don’t need to be stuck here the whole time. I’m hardly gut company after you’ve worked all week. You’ll have a gut time.”
You don’t know the half of it, Sarabeth thought to herself, the first hurdle cleared. The fact was that her parents had forbidden she attend the singings back home until her attitude changed to their liking. This would be her very first singing. Maybe they even still practice bundling here, she slyly thought to herself. This is getting even better.
***
Another custom that is now dying out in many Amish settlements is that of bundling. The practice consisted of sleeping fully clothed with another person, as a means to get to talk together privately during courtship. A boy would arrange with a girl what night they should meet. She would leave the back door open and wait in her bedroom fully clothed. He would sneak into the house after he saw the last lantern light extinguished from his hiding place behind a parked buggy and meet her upstairs. A bundling board about two feet high and spanning the length of the bed is placed between them, obviously with the intention of limiting any romantic contact, though it occasionally failed to restrict such behavior. The purpose was for each to get to know the other and decide if they were a possible contender in the search for a spouse. If they were, he was invited to bundle again until they announced their engagement. If not, the boy was quickly replaced by another eligible bachelor.
***
The day couldn’t go by fast enough. Finally at four o’clock Faith suggested Sarabeth bathe in the kesslehaus and get ready for the big night. Sarabeth had put the canning kettle on the woodstove there hours earlier for her bath. Pouring the steaming water into the tub she opened the gravity-fed cold tap, swishing the water with her hand until it was just right. She was glad for the lavender soap her mamm had snuck into the toiletry bag before she left. The last thing she wanted to smell like tonight was a chicken coup or dirty diapers. On a trip into town with Faith two days earlier to do some shopping she used her leftover bus money to buy deodorant, a can of hair spray, and a spritzer of cologne when Faith was at the other end of the store. Although not expressly banned, such luxuries were considered outright vanity, worldly and a waste of hard-earned money.
Right at five she was ready. Faith grudgingly approved of the end results, deciding that a few stray schtruvvels, the ringlets obviously very carefully positioned at her temples on both sides and sprayed into place, outside of Sarabeth’s kapp, weren’t exactly worth insisting on correcting. She had been young herself only a few years ago. What did surprise her was the smell of perfume as Sarabeth turned to go. I guess you’ve got to pick your battles, Faith said to herself as she waved the girl off. Dear Gott, please protect her tonight, she prayed.
The three young people visited on the way to the singing. When they arrived Sarabeth was speechless. There were dozens of buggies pulling into the field by the barn, boys unhitching horses and leading them to the paddocks and water troughs, lining up the buggies side by side, but not before chalking the owner’s initials on the footrest by the dashboard. All were black or regulation gray, though some boasted blinking battery-fueled lights, fancy chrome hardware or brass studded halters, only overlooked by the parents because of rumspringa. Girls were carrying covered dishes to the house for the snacks and supper that would be served later. Sarabeth followed the two boys in and sat opposite them at what was obviously the girls’ side at one of the long tables spanning the length of the barn. Bowls of popcorn balls, chips, dips, cookies, bars and soda were placed in the center of each table along with Ausbund hymn books. As Sarabeth was looking around, unaware her mouth was open and her eyebrows were as high as they’d go, she scanned the stream of young people coming into the barn. All of a sudden a herd of boova jumped onto the bench opposite her, jostling the table as they pushed in, not unlike young stallions.
“Hi there, I’m Ezra…” the tall blonde one began.
His friend cut in, “You’re new here….” He had beautiful curly hair escaping out from under his straw hat. The third one, who had ginger-colored hair and was shorter than the other two spoke next. “Welcome. Where’re you from? I’m Josiah,” he said, extending his hand.
“Whoa there, ponies,” a girl sitting next to Sarabeth said. “I’m Ida, and you can ignore these jokers if you know what’s gut for you,” she added sternly.
“Um, well, ah, I’m Sarabeth… from Ohio. I’m the maud for the frau that lost her family in the train accident.” They all nodded, their eyebrows suddenly frowning in appropriate sobriety at the mention of that tragedy. The singing began just then in high German with an old hymn. The songs would progressively become more contemporary and in English as the evening progressed.
Sarabeth sized each one up as she mouthed the words, her mind miles from the lyrics, her heart jumping as she imagined running her fingers through that mop of brown curls or wrapping her arms around the broad shoulders below the straight blonde bowl cut and blue eyes. The red head was pretty cute, too, if not harder to read. Mysterious even. But those curls! Swarthy. Yes, that’s what he is, she told herself, remembering the word from a western romance novella she had shoplifted from the drug store just the month before.
She was sure she was going to faint during a break when they all descended on the snacks, and he came around to her side of the table and whispered in her ear, asking if he could drive her home. She whispered yes to those beautiful curls brushing her cheek. She still didn’t know his name but that didn’t matter.
It was the custom for boys to ask a girl they were interested in to drive them home in their buggy after the singing, making plenty of time to get to know one another. If this first meeting was going well, the boy could also take the back roads or the long way home to extend the date into the wee hours of the night (or morning.)
After the supper was served and cleaned up, boys were trying to find certain girls in the melee as horses were being hitched up to buggies for the ride home. Swarthy, as she was now calling him until she knew his name, had dashed around the table as everyone stood, grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd toward the field of buggies. He was still holding her hand as he helped her up onto the raised seat. Holding hands was usually frowned upon until a couple were engaged, signified by the marriage banns being announced in church. He’s moving pretty fast, Sarabeth told herself. I wonder how many girlfriends he is keeping… Well, they will all disappear when he gets to know me… she assured herself.
Once they were on the road he switched the reins to his left hand and again took her hand with his right. She moved in closer to him on the plush crushed velvet upholstered bench. As their shoulders touched he turned and planted a quick kiss on her lips, leaving her utterly speechless. She had sat on hard backless benches through endless sermons over the years warning the youngie that they were playing with fire if they entertained any sort of affection at all before marriage. Obviously, she thought, his district either didn’t have similar homilies or this guy is playing with fire… or maybe he is sure I am the one… perhaps.
Glossary of Pennsylvania Dutch words
Amische – Amish community
Ausbund – the standard Amish hymn book
bobbel(i) – baby (pl.)
boova - boys
dat -father
dawdi haus – a grandparents’ apartment built onto the main house.
denke - thank you
doddy - grandpa
Englische - everyone not Amish
ferhoodled – confused, flummoxed
frau(s) – woman, housewife (pl.)
gay – walk on, a horse command
Gott - God
grossmammi - grandmother
gut – good
hinkel roasht – bread stuffing with deboned chicken, duck or turkey, celery and onions tossed into the mixture, baked and served with a rich gravy.
kapp – prayer bonnet
kesslehaus – a washroom set aside for bathing and laundry.
kinner - children
kumm - come
mamm - mother
mammi - grandma
maud - maid
Ordnung - a set of rules for Amish, Old Order Mennonite and Conservative Mennonite living. Ordnung is the German word for order, discipline, rule, arrangement, organization, or system.
rumspringa – a time when young people can run around before joining church
schtruvvel(s) – stray hair (pl.)
tracht(s) – traditional costume (pl.)
wunderbar - wonderful
youngie – the youth
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