Dirty

A new family moved into the community and with them came a few choice words their children used to express themselves. It didn't take us children long to start using them also.  Mom and Daddy weren't happy and gave us several lectures about the importance of not using words that aren't pure and that don't do anything to make our conversation better.

They made us copy and memorize the verse in Matthew that told us  to let our conversation be yea yea or nay nay and whatsoever is more than this cometh from evil. We tried to be more careful but it didn't seem to last for very long, somehow it felt good to occasionally add a few words to express our feelings.

One evening one of us again happened to use a word and Mom got a funny look on her face and marched the offender into the bathroom. She had just finished changing the baby's soiled diaper. "A dirty word deserves a dirty punishment," she declared and instructed the guilty party to wash the diaper out in the toilet.
No amount of gagging and retching made her change her mind.

From that day forward when ever we happened to use an offensive word we had to wash a soiled diaper. It didn't take us very long at all to have a strong aversion of using any words that we shouldn't. And to this day whenever I hear someone adding choice words to their conversations I still see those disgusting diapers.

The Sandwich

As spring came Daddy decided to fence in our field across the road from our house and the several acres of woods that we had. In order to make the fence he first needed to make fence posts. A farmer right next to the school house had lots of fine locust trees just perfect for what Daddy was looking for to make fence posts. He was planning on clearing them away in order to make more cropland anyway and told Daddy if he gets them cut and hauled away within a certain time frame he can have how ever much he needs.

Daddy decided to ask a neighboring family if one of their boys could come help him so he could get it done faster. Much to my dismay he hired LV's brother Melvin. I would be sitting at my desk in school everyday and see Daddy and Melvin pass by with load after load of freshly cut locust posts. I couldn't figure out why it bothered me so much that Melvin was working for Daddy except that Melvin's family was so far above our league that I was always uncomfortable around them and with all the things I had endured from LV the previous school years I knew that Melvin was probably secretly making fun of Daddy and the very thought that he would do that gave me a sick feeling.

As the days passed Daddy seemed to enjoy working with Melvin and would often have stories to share at the supper table of their days accomplishments and the conversations they had. I was beginning to think everything was going to be alright even if he had someone from that family working for him.

But then one evening Daddy sat down at the table and as he was filling his plate he started chuckling and started telling us about his day. They had been on their way home with their last load of posts for the day and were beginning to get quite hungry. Since Mom always packed plenty of lunch for Daddy he reached into his lunch pail and got a sandwich and offered half of it to Melvin. As Daddy ate his, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Melvin carefully dropped the sandwich in front of the wheel when he thought Daddy wasn't looking.

I was absolutely horrified that Daddy would even think of sharing his sandwich. It had been made out of homemade whole wheat bread with thick slices of our canned hamburger. And I knew that Melvin's family always had white store bought bread with cheese or deli meats. I was sure that Melvin went home and told everyone else what an awful sandwich he had been offered and they were all probably laughing at us.

Daddy didn't seem concerned about that as he chuckled heartily that someone would think that Mom's delicious sandwich didn't look appetizing enough to even take a bite.

Changes

Life is all about changes. And right now we are once again going through some pretty big ones. I find them both exciting and scary. I don't particularly welcome changes, I'm more of homebody type of person who likes to have a comfortable little routine. I like to have my house a relaxing haven from the rest of the world.

This does not represent a change that I enjoy. I don't enjoy moving, the packing process is wearisome and the unpacking part isn't much better. There are always a few "helpful" people who want to help pack until they discover empty canning jars aren't all that entertaining and really don't provide a lot of juicy fodder for conversations later on.

My husband is a logger but plans to quit when we move. This is something I'm very glad to change. I don't spend a lot of time worrying but every once in a while something happens that reminds us of how very dangerous his job really is.

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I hope you can all be patient with me as I try to find a few minutes here and there to blog a little bit, as you can imagine my time at the computer is more limited than it used to be.

The Cookie

Elmer and Lucy were an elderly couple in our community. Elmer was a short heavyset man with a great sense of humor. He was friends with everyone and the sound of his laughter would alert us that he was nearby.

One Sunday we were invited to their house for lunch. We arrived in time to help Lucy with her preparations of her simple meal. There were potatoes, meat and gravy and some kind of vegetable. For dessert there was a bowl of peaches and a plate filled with oatmeal cookies.

We children sat on a bench at the back of the table and listened as the grown ups visited. Elmer was regaling us with stories from his younger years and everyone was enjoying themselves. As everyone finished with their first course it was time to pass the cookies and peaches and a little pitcher of milk.

Everyone took a cookie and some peaches. As I bit into my cookie I was surprised how hard it was. The conversation continued as Daddy and everyone else placed their cookie in their plate and poured milk over it and spooned peaches beside it. I watched as Daddy tried to pry a bite of the cookie off with his spoon. It was too hard and as he kept visiting he kept on try to get his spoon to cut through the cookie. The cookie was so hard that even the milk that had been poured over it was having a hard time soaking into it. All of a sudden his spoon slipped and his entire cookie went flying across the table and landed in Lucy's plate.

Conversation stopped and Elmer started laughing. Daddy was embarrassed by what had just happened but Elmer continued laughing. Loud rolling laughter. His shoulders shook and tears streamed down his face as he tried to control himself but every time he was almost done laughing he had to start all over again.

Daddy finished his peaches and I had a sneaking suspicion that he was secretly glad he didn't have to eat that cookie.

Thank-you

After reading all your answers we have come to the conclusion that we will continue to teach  our children to use Mr. and Mrs. when talking about or to our non-Amish friends. Maybe with some more practise it will come to feel like the proper way, and hopefully it will make it easier for our children if they ever have a family of their own.

I find it very interesting how different cultures have there own ways of determining what is acceptable and what isn't. For example: The community my husband and I were raised in, it was considered highly improper for men and women to visit with each other if they weren't related. And children did not address or start a conversation with grown ups.

When we moved to this area we soon learned that there those guidelines of conduct were unheard of and I found it very annoying when children came to talk to me and ask me to hold Sunbeam, who at that time was only several weeks old. There were many other things but they can wait to be discussed until a later date.

Thanks again to everyone who took the time to answer my question.