Here in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, the Amish are as thick as thieves.  To say this is not to imply that they are bandits, burglars or roving bands of suspendered thugs in straw hats.  Quite the contrary.  To the outside world they appear to be honest, hard working and politely friendly.  They raise families, participate in the economy and contribute to the good of the social order.  Their relationship to contemporary society however, is muted because strict religious and cultural traditions tend to isolate them.  As a result they band togather out of convenience and necessity and largely keep to themselves.   

The “Plain People” as they are known, first settled the fertile limestone valleys of the Conestoga and the Pequea rivers in the early 1700’s, fleeing the confines of conservative Europe for the freedom of Penn’s Woods in America.  Ironically, it is this freedom that has allowed them to remain largely unchanged for the better part of three centuries.  By faithfully retaining the customs, techniques and equipment of their ancestors they remain as a functional relict of 17^th century Europe. Practical and opportunistic, plain but not poor, they have prospered and have become one of the largest land owners (if not subtle economic forces) in the county.

The Amish negotiate the modern world with a language that is a strange hybrid of 18^th century Swiss German and 20^th century English. They believe in the God of the Bible and adhere to a strict literal biblical translation which commands that they separate themselves from the things of the world so that they might become closer to the kingdom of God.  In so doing, they shun electricity, motorized transportation and most modern conveniences, and avoid anything that brings attention to the individual such as bright patterned clothing, shiny buttons or flashy possessions.   

Although they reject the ownership of motorized vehicles, they have made the concession to pay for rides from the “English” (as local, non-Amish residents are called.)  As a result a cottage industry fleet of small vans – “Amish taxies” - has grown up to transport them to market, to job sites and to distant visits.  Most frequently however, they are seen walking briskly down the side of the road, riding in all manners of buggies, or zipping along on a variety of push scooters and roller skates.  It is startling to come up upon a young Amish boy or girl, dressed in heavy black, skating along the highway with a pair of neon-colored roller blades peeking out from beneath their thick trousers or skirt.  Apparently roller blades in kid’s sizes are difficult to find in flat black. Until they are, the Elders have temporarily approved the wild show of color.  In some instances, practicality wins out over showiness.

It is difficult to drive for more than a few rural miles without encountering the fragile, black, horse-drawn wooden wagons and buggies that trot slowly and methodically down the roads of Lancaster County.  Wide-eyed children in straw hats and thick bonnets peer out the back and smile shyly as you pass.  Up front, grim expressionless adults coax the sweating horses and stare straight ahead.  The plainness of the wagons is belied by the gaudy orange safety triangles on the back and the banks of red reflectors.  God may frown upon such day-glo demonstrations of presence, but in Pennsylvania the law requires it.  When automobiles and wagons collide, which happens often, it seldom works well for the Amish.  In most instances it is tragic.

The children are barefoot most of the summer and retain a permanent dusty patina on their skin through which rivulets of sweat leave their traces.  A general lack of access to daily hot showers is countered by a diminished concern over body odor.  Their health reflects their lifestyle and is by and large robust.  Pink cheeks are the norm.   However there are physical and mental disorders that are unique to the Amish community and generally result from lack of genetic variation due to inbreeding. 

Although most dress in utilitarian black clothing, some of the Amish wear plain, solidly colored shirts or blue, dark green and purple. It would seem that the degree of strict adherence to tradition runs the gamut from the dour and frumpish to, by Amish standards, the tragically hip.  One must suppose that there is a left and a right wing to Amish culture and that, like other American families, this plays out in kitchen table discussions and generational battles on a regular basis.

A contemporary issue that may begin to negatively effect the Plain People is the downturn of the economy.  Many years ago they realized that it was not possible for all Amish to make a living in traditional farming and began, quietly at first, taking jobs with local industries, factories and craftsmen.  Today, a large percentage of the Amish are employed in such industries.   A recent article in the local Lancaster newspaper suggested that some are being pushed out of blue collar jobs and may be forced to accept public assistance, a step that that has been avoided until now.  Because they enter the job market with an 8^th grade education, a really bad haircut and no computer or technology skills, they are at a distinct disadvantage in today’s job market.  But because theirs is an insular society that is not without resources, the Amish should weather societal changes better than most.

And so day to day, year to year, century to century, life for the Amish goes on.  In the dusty fields, Amish men folk work all hours of the day wearing the same black wool pants, suspenders and patternless work shirts whether in 90 degree heat or wind-driven snow.  Dogs follow behind as powerful teams of mules turn as a unit, on a dime.  At clean but simple farm houses untouched by a single telephone or power line, children play games of tag as barefoot Amish women shove dangerous hand-pushed lawn mowers through thick grass. 

I wonder sometimes, do they ever cut their toes off?

 (Next: Part II - Amish Children Play A Lot Of Baseball)

NOTE: I have lived in south-central Pennsylvania for just short of ten years – by local standards barely long enough to unpack my bags.  Neither vested local or rank tourist, my anonymity allows me a certain invisibility.  This is what I see.