Helping Out

Even though I had graduated from school, the Somerset County Amish still had what they called vocational classes which we had to attend every Wednesday forenoon until our fifteenth birthday. We had to keep a diary of everything we did during the week and hand it in to the teacher, and then we had algebra and German and English lessons. I was glad to be able to go back to school the first day since I had always loved school but it soon became an aggravation to deal with every Wednesday when I had other things that I would have rather been doing.

After school had been going for a few weeks and things were getting into routine at home. I was starting to really like not having to go to school everyday. It seemed nice to be at home with Mom and being able to visit without being interrupted by my younger brothers. There was still a lot of canning to do with sweetcorn, beans, peaches and apples.

One afternoon as we were canning peaches we heard a buggy pull into the driveway. When we looked to see who it was we saw a neighbor that lived right next to the schoolhouse. Daddy went to see what he wanted while Mom and I kept on peeling peaches.

As the buggy drove away Daddy came and said that Joe wanted to know if they could hire me to help out with the canning since his wife had too much work to handle on her own especially with so many little children. I wasn't enthused about the idea at all. Everything was always so dirty around their home that I cringed at the very thought of having to work there. When Daddy asked Mom if she could spare me for a week or two she didn't answer right away, so I voiced my opinion of how there was no way I wanted to go work for that family.

That was all it took. Mom's mouth set in a firm line and said. "Yes, I think I can manage just fine. It would be a good experience for Mary Ann."

I wished I had kept my big mouth shut but knew the matter was settled.

The next morning I walked to school with my brothers and stopped at Joe's house. As I went to the door his wife came to meet me. As I stepped inside I could see she really did need help. There were multiple bushels of peaches on the floor waiting to be canned. Dishes were piled high on the sink, the floors and walls looked as if they hadn't seen water and soap for years, the children hung on her skirts and looked at me with their dirty faces and their clothes were even dirtier. In another corner there were several burlap feed sacks filled with gnarled wormy apples. But worst of all were the flies. They were swarming over everything I tried to keep them off of me but soon gave up since the only way to get any work done was to ignore them even if they crawled and buzzed all around and over you.

The first thing she wanted to have done was have the dishes washed. I surveyed the endless stack and started in bravely. After spending most of the forenoon doing dishes I was relieved once I was done and she sent me to sort the peaches. All the ones that had soft spots or were starting to rot had to be canned first.

I filled up a big dishpan and sat down to start peeling them. The children had lost all sense of shyness and crowded around me to watch as I peeled peaches. They would take bites out of most of the halves before their mother put them in jars to can. I secretly vowed to not eat any peaches for lunch.

I thought the day would never end. The flies, and all the filth were almost more than I could handle as I thought of Mom at home in our clean and tidy house canning peaches by herself. Just when I thought things couldn't be more miserable I heard their five year old spitting. When I looked she was sitting on the floor and spitting on the corner of their hand towel. I didn't pay to much attention to her as she continued spitting until the next thing I knew she wiped the spit soaked corner over my face and then stood there and giggled. That was the last straw. I got up to go wash my face just as my brothers knocked on the door on their way home from school and it was time for me to go.

I was sure once Mom and Daddy heard about my day they wouldn't make me go back, but they weren't very sympathetic and the next morning found me knocking at their door again. This time  she wanted to get all those apples turned into apple sauce. As I cut the first one open I tried not to gag at the little worms and hurriedly cut them out of the apple along with the core. Since the apples were so small and gnarled there wasn't much left. She laughed and said. "Oh, we don't worry about the worms. Just quarter the apples and once they are boiled no one will even know there had been any worms there. I tried to suppress a shudder as I did what she told me but now vowed I would never eat any apple sauce at their house.

The day passed much the same as it had the previous day. the flies were almost unbearable but what annoyed me the most was that Joe was in the house all day on a chair sitting right next to me. He didn't help work but talked almost non-stop. He told a lot of utterly lame jokes and tried to show me a lot of tricks that he could do with toothpicks and various other things.

When I got home that evening I didn't even bother to ask if I had to go back because Daddy had told Joe I could work there for a few weeks until canning season was over. As I got ready for bed the days ahead looked long and bleak and I couldn't wait until my job there was done.

The next day Joe once again sat right beside me all day. This time he started commenting about what pretty hands I have. I felt like giving him a big smack, but instead tried to ignore him as I quartered apples as fast as I could. By the end of the day I was fuming and once  got home I told Daddy how frustrating it was to have Joe sitting beside me all day long. He asked me to tell him all about my day and I told him everything, not sparing any details.

This time Daddy's expression became determined and he marched out to the barn and hitched the horse to the buggy and went to tell Joe that he could help his own wife do the canning and that I would not be coming back. When he got home he handed me the money that Joe had paid for my three days of work. Two dollars a day. Daddy muttered that it wasn't enough for what I had to endure but I didn't really care as long as I didn't have to go back to that miserable house everything was fine again.

Buggy Brakes

News spread through the community. Fifteen year old Andy a severely handicapped boy had died and preparations had to be made for the funeral. Daddy and several other men had to dig the grave by hand. Daddy started for the graveyard right after breakfast in hopes that they would be able to dig the grave in one day.

Mom offered to send me to help with the preparations at the home since I was out of school and now considered to be old enough to participate when ever needs like this arose. Daddy dropped me off at Grandpa Masts house on his way to the graveyard then I could ride with aunt Emma.

Grandpa hitched his horse, Blaze, to the buggy and aunt Emma and I started off. It was a beautiful day and we had the doors and storm front open on the buggy as Blaze trotted down the road. It took a while to get there since there were numerous long hills that Blaze had to slow down to a walk to get to the top.

Once we finally got there someone came to take care of the horse while Emma and I went inside to help work. There was lots of things to be done. All the windows had to be washed and general spring house cleaning done. The hickory shop had to be cleaned out in order to set up enough tables for all the visitors that came to the funeral. There was loads of food to prepare and serve and pies to bake.

By evening we had done most of the cleaning and plans were made to come back the next day to help with all the food preparations. As Emma and I left I sighed with relief as I sank into my side of the buggy seat and looked forward to the long ride home. It shouldn't take as long since all the hills the horse had to climb in the morning were now ready for us to go down at a nice trot.

As we were ready to descend the first hill Emma pumped the brakes but nothing happened, so she drew back on the lines to slow Blaze down to a walk and we inched down the hill. The same thing happened for the next hills. We were no longer chatting as Emma focused everything on getting down the hills slowly without the buggy running into the back of the horse, or the horse stumbling. I began to think of the long steep hill that was coming up and wondered how she was going to drive down without having a panic attack since it was so much worse than any of the others had been. I didn't have long to wonder. As we got to the top of the hill she stopped the horse and asked me to get out and hang onto the back of the buggy to try and keep it from wanting to roll as fast.

I wasn't sure I had heard correctly but that was exactly what Emma wanted me to do, so I got out and grabbed hold of the springs at the back of the buggy and we started down the hill. We started off at a slow walk but Blaze soon picked up speed and the closer we got to the bottom of the hill the faster we went. I had never run so fast in my life. I clung to the buggy for dear life not daring to loose my grip and go tumbling onto the road. Taking huge steps it almost felt like I was ready to lift off and start flying since so much distance was covered with each step. My big black bonnet flapped crazily behind me held only by its strings.

Once we got to the bottom of the hill Emma stopped and I climbed wearily back into the buggy highly doubtful that the descent had been slowed because of me hanging onto the back.

Once I got home I told Mom and Daddy about my adventure and they made sure that Emma could use our little open buggy the next day with brakes that worked fine.

Last Day of School

Our neighbor just down the road from us was the oldest of a very large family. When ever he needed help he would ask for one of his younger brothers to come and help out.

During the summer a common sight was to see a horse and rider appear at the top of the hill and gallop at full speed past our house. I always had to watch them pass. The Lee boys were good riders and their horses appeared to enjoy the run too.

Simon Lee was in the same grade I was. We had a lot of fun together and I considered him to be one of my best friends. When ever he rode by he always managed to wave which impressed me even more since he  was on the back of a flying horse.

As our last day of school drew near we eighth graders were planning our last moments in school and looking forward to graduation. I was looking forward to being with my classmates as we got our diplomas. We had been best of friends from almost the first day I had started going to that school seven years earlier.

The evening before graduation word spread through out the community. Simon Lee had tried to ride a new horse and had been bucked off and was now in the hospital. We didn't know the extent of his injuies and I tried not to think about it.

The next morning as we went to get our diplomas there was a solemn air in school. Instead of the usual last day of school fun everyone was quiet and wondering how Simon was doing. I was very disappointed that us classmates couldn't all be there.

Once we got home we were relieved to hear that though badly broken Simon would be fine.