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CHAPTER 4

The month of December, in nineteen-seventy, was very cold. Dad hitched up three horses to the wagon, and we started off for Wayne County, Ohio. We averaged about four miles an hour. Our three horses were so wild we could not keep them under control for the first ten miles. After that they started to settle down. It was fifteen degrees above zero that evening, but before morning it went down to twelve degrees, with a high wind. I have never been so cold. We pulled off the road in Wooster, Ohio to feed the horses.

When we got off the wagon, we could just barely move, we were so cold. By this time, we had only one cup of coffee left. We tried to eat our sausage sandwiches that Mom had made for us but the bread was frozen, and so was the sausage and mustard. We, also, had some homemade frozen cookies. The one cup of coffee we had left just wasn't enough to get us all warm. We tried to run on the road to get warm, but it was too icy, and we kept falling. The horses also fell. We rested our horses for an hour, and then proceeded into Wooster. We stopped at a restaurant in Wooster, and got a cup of coffee and sandwiches. By the time we got to our farm, in Wayne County, it was ten o'clock in the morning. The sun was shining brightly.

We unloaded our wagon, and by two o'clock that afternoon there were nine more wagons pulling in the driveway. By six o'clock that evening the last two wagons showed up. We got all settled in our new home that night. A couple of our Amish neighbors brought a load of firewood over for us that evening. Now, we just lived ten miles from my sister Emma. The next summer, dad and my two brothers Pete and Joe, did the farming. I wanted to stay home and help my brothers farm, but this wasn't dad's wish. He said I was different from the rest of the family and needed to learn the hard way what life was all about. That meant I had to work for the higher class Amish, the less conservative sect. I really didn't like the idea but I had no choice but to listen to my father's ruling, which meant I was no longer able to work at home.

Living close to Maysville, Ohio, we were surrounded by the less conservative Amish, which I did start working for, earning five dollars a day. I adapted very quickly. I was treated with respect and their lifestyle was somewhat easier. However, during the winter month I had to haul a lot of manure. My hand got used to the pitchfork. One neighbor hired me to haul all the manure out of the barn, then the next neighbor down the road hired me, and so on, until I made a complete circle around our farm.

The first winter I only did this on Saturdays, because I still had to go to school, but in the Spring of nineteen-seventy-one I was at it full time. I really got to find out who my neighbors were, and I helped out whichever neighbor was the busiest. Dad would wake me in the morning, I would help do the chores, and then eat breakfast.

Right after breakfast I took off through the fields to the neighbor who needed me the most. I got to the point where I wished I didn't have to go home. My neighbors all made me feel like I was a part of their family. They wouldn't send me home if we were working in the fields and it started raining. When we couldn't work in the fields for a day or two, sometimes we went to Kidron Livestock Auction. I liked that. They had the little windows, the storm fronts, the mirrors and the lights on their buggies. We'd let the storm front and curtains down on the buggy, and we would be nice and dry. Many of the less conservative Amish had horses from the racetrack, and they could really move. I always liked to pass up a Swartzentruber Amish and watch him get wet while I was nice and dry.

Sometimes the weather was nice and they needed something in town, so they'd tell me to hitch up a horse to a two-wheeled cart and go to town. I always kept my eye open for a Swartzentruber Amish, hoping for a race. I knew that most Swartzentruber Amish's horses were either overworked or not from the track, and they wouldn't stand a chance against my fast horse.

Working for these less conservative Amish, I began to wish I was one of them. They never yelled at me, nor did they paddle my rear so hard that it was hard to sit down. They made me feel important. Their children also treated me well. We would sometimes sit down and talk about the difference in the Amish. Their girls wore shorter dresses, and I always thought they were cuter. Sometimes, in the evening, after getting off from work, they'd let me ride their pony home. If Dad had me work for less Conservative Amish for a punishment , it sure back fired on him. I worked away from home like that for a couple of years.

By now, both my brother Pete and my sister Annie had gotten married. That Fall I turned sixteen years old. I couldn't wait, because I knew that when you were sixteen you were old enough to start looking at girls. One Saturday evening, I asked Dad for a horse and buggy. Dad said I could have it to go and see a girl, but not to go to a bar, or any place like that. My brother Joe went with me.

I had my first date with a very nice girl. Brother Joe asked the girl if it was all right if I stayed there for the night? She said "yes," so we unhitched the horse from the buggy, put the horse in the barn, unharnessed and fed it. The Amish believe in bed courtship before they marry. I went to her room and took my shoes, jacket and hat off. Then I crawled in bed with her. We lay in bed all night, from ten o'clock until the morning. I got a few kisses and hugs during the night.

I got up out of bed at four o'clock that morning, and left for home again. Brother Joe stayed there overnight too, but Joe was in a separate bedroom. I guess the reason Joe went with me was, because it was my first date, and to make sure I didn't do anything I wasn't supposed to do.

The "Old Order Amish" and the "Swartzentruber Amish" believe in bed courtship, because that way they know where their daughters are. Amish go to church every two weeks. So you only got to date every two weeks, usually on the weekend, when they didn't have church. With my dating, it meant that Dad had to come up with another horse and buggy. I also wanted a radio, but I didn't have the money to buy one, I had to wait.

My second date was with my brother Joe's girlfriend's first cousin. Edna Miller was a cute little red head, who only weighed ninety-two pounds. Edna was a year and a half older then I was and experienced in dating and I wasn't. I arrived at her place at ten-thirty, one Saturday evening. I unhitched my horse, tied him up in the barn in a stall, un harnessed him and fed him. I slowly made my way upstairs, lit the kerosene lamp and took off my socks, jacket, vest and hat. I blew out the kerosene lamp and crawled in between the sheets with Edna. Edna was real quick to snuggle up to me very tight. The next forty-five minutes we talked, hugged and kissed a couple of times.

To my surprise, Edna reached down and unbuttoned my pants. Before I fully realized what was taking place we were having sex for my first time. I had mixed feelings about it. I was afraid my parents would find out about it. Part of me wanted some more. The next morning when it was time to leave I asked, "Edna, is it okay to come back in two weeks?" "Sure honey," she said. I thinking to myself, wow is that what bed courtship is all about? I wondered if everybody else does it too.

I remember thinking back when we were living in Medina County, when brother Pete was dating Joe's girlfriend's sister. Dad wouldn't tell us what it was about, but we knew it was about Pete's dating when it happened. I know one thing Pete received a hell of a beating whatever it was that he did. I couldn't wait until the next two weeks went by to go see Edna again. And after that she became my steady girlfriend.

Brother Joe was going to get married in the fall of 1973. Dad and I were going to do the farming from then on, and we I took over the farming in the fall of that year. Brother Joe started working for Uncle John, who was a Bishop of the "Swartzentruber" church. In the meantime Joe and his girlfriend Katie took a blood test. A week later Joe and Katie had to go and get their test results. Brother Joe came home on a Thursday evening, in time for supper. Right after supper, Joe said to me, "Can I borrow your horse and buggy to go to pick up Katie, and the blood test results?"

"Sure," I said. "Thanks. I'll make sure the buggy is clean again before Sunday, in case the girls are watching you." Then he laughed. Brother Joe was going to get engaged on the following Sunday and married a week and a half later. Joe was just going to stay at home until he was married. Joe said to me, "Wait up for me until I get home from picking up the blood test results, I want to talk to you tonight." Joe said he should be home by eleven, but he didn't show up.

Instead, a car came in the driveway very fast, blowing the horn. Two of my sisters and I were at home, and we all rushed downstairs to see what all the commotion was about. But all the driver of the vehicle would say was, "Is this Yoder residence, and do you have a son, Joe." "Yes," Dad replied. "I'm Levi Yoder. Joe is my son. Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so," the driver said. "There's been a bad accident just outside of Mt. Eaton, Ohio. Joe and Katie were sent to Orriville Hospital." My parents feared the worst. They both broke down and started crying convulsively. I thought that either or both of them might pass out due to shock. I had to help them both walk back into the house.

The last couple months they had been feuding with Joe, which was why he was no longer working at home. Their feud was a rather simple one. They knew my brother was getting married in November. My parents wanted Joe and his new wife to move home and take over farming. Joe had refused. Joe said, "David, I just don't think it will work, because you know how frustrated Dad gets. I think it would be better if me and my new wife went to work for a less conservative Amish for a year or two."

"I agree," I said. "If the crops aren't put out on time, and if the cows aren't milked the way Dad's used to do, this will upset him." If Mom and Dad think they're punishing me by making me work for Mom's brother, well, they're wrong. I don't care if he is a Bishop; he's very easy going.

The day of the accident Joe came home, between four and five o'clock in the afternoon from working at Mom's brother John's place. Joe unhitched his horse, tied him in his stall, un harnessed him and fed him. There were no words spoken between Joe and my parents that entire evening. You could feel the tension, but there was also something different about Joe that evening. It was almost like he knew something was going to happen.

Just a couple months earlier, I had a dream while Joe was still working at home, that there was going to be death in our family. It was so real that I talked to Joe about it. When I brought it up to Joe, he looked stunned, then said, "That is weird. I had the same dream."

"What do you think this means?” I asked, "Am I dying? Are we both getting killed?"

"David, I think you'll live to a ripe old age. I don't know why you had the same dream I did. But I think I'm the one who's going to die." My brother Joe and I had talked some more about it, then we decided it would be best if we just dropped it. We agreed not to talk to our family about it. I always wondered if Joe had another dream.

Later that evening when Joe was ready to leave and the rest of us were sitting at the supper table, my parents didn't even invite Joe to sit down and eat supper. Joe left while we were sitting at the table.

As he walked to the front door to leave he turned around and said, "David, remember to wait up for me." Joe walked on towards the door and grabbed the doorknob. As he was ready to open the door Joe looked back at all of us sitting at the table and gave us a stare as if he wanted to say something. But he didn't.
Joe went out to the barn and hitched up his horse, which took him at least fifteen minutes. On special occasions like this, this is too long. Three minutes would have been more than enough time. I got up from the supper table and grabbed my hat and jacket and started out to the barn to see what was wrong. But I was about sixty seconds too late, Joe was already leaving. I had a feeling something was seriously wrong. I had forgotten about the discussion Joe and I had a couple months earlier, but I told myself I'd wait up for Joe and we'd talk when he got home.

I remember thinking I was glad Joe borrowed my horse and buggy. I always kept my buggy clean and my horse in good shape. I had teased Joe earlier that evening and told him to take it easy on my horse, that his girlfriend could wait until he got there, and if he got my buggy dirty he had to wash it off. Joe said, "Don't worry about that, none. I might push Smokey a little harder to get there. Once I pick my girlfriend up Smokey gets to walk most of the way to Mt. Eaton and back to my girlfriend's house."

Now all this didn't matter to me anymore. Could my brother possibly be alive? And what about his girlfriend? It was quite a while before my parents walked back into the house. I remember making it to the doorway, and my Mom saying, "I just can't walk through that door. I know my son is dead."

Dad was crying out loud and I told him, "Please hold on. Try to get it together." I was finally able to persuade them to make it in the house and we made it toward the two hickory rockers. I helped them both sit down. My two sisters were crying too. I wanted to cry, but knew I couldn't. After about five minutes, I asked my parents who I should get for a driver. Dad said, "Try Kenneth Miller. He's a Conservative Mennonite, and they drive cars. If anyone will do it, Kenneth will." It was about a mile across our fields. I ran. I remember running up on Kenneth's porch, pounding on the door, and yelling for Kenneth.

It didn't take Kenneth long to come to the door. He wanted details about the accident, but the only thing I knew was that my brother and his girlfriend were sent to Orriville Hospital. Kenneth said, "Of course I'll give your parents a ride to the Hospital. Hang on, David, and I'll take you back to your parents' place."

"No thanks," I said. "My parents need me and I can run quicker across the fields. Besides Kenneth, you have to get dressed. "Okay, David. Tell your parents I'll be there as soon as possible." It was close to midnight, and I ran as fast as I could back home. When I got home my parents were no longer sitting in the rocking chairs. They had their good clothes on and were preparing to go to Orriville Hospital. They asked if Kenneth Miller had agreed to take them, and I said, "Yes he'll be here shortly."

My two sisters and I asked our parents, "Could we go along," they said "No, in case we didn't make it home before breakfast. And what if Joe and his girlfriend are still alive?" We understood, though we were terribly disappointed. It was close to twelve thirty when Kenneth Miller pulled in the driveway. As soon as that car came to a stop my parents were in that vehicle and on their way to Orriville Hospital.

It was between 1:15 and 1:30 a.m. when they arrived at the emergency entrance at the Hospital. When they stepped out of the vehicle, they spotted drops of blood heading toward the entrance. This sent chills down my parents' back, but the blood trail didn't stop there. It continued all the way into to Emergency room.

My parents quickly made it to the reception desk hoping to get information about Joe. But all the receptionist would say is "Take a seat. There'll be somebody with you shortly." Joe's girlfriend's parents arrived at the Hospital about the same time as my parents did. They all waited impatiently for some news about their children. Half an hour went by and finally a Doctor walked out into the waiting room and said, "You must be the parents of the Amish couple that was brought in." Both sets of parents were quick to reply, "Yes, we are. Do you have any good news? Are they alive?" my father said. The Doctor replied, "You mean no one has talked to you or told you?" Before any one could answer he said, "Someone will be out to talk to you in a moment." Then he walked off.

Fifteen minutes later, a second doctor arrived. The look on his face and the way he carried himself told both set of parents that there were no survivors. The Doctor asked the parents, "What do you want to do with the bodies?" After coming to an agreement, the parents replied, "We want Joe's and Katie's bodies to be sent to our house sometime the next morning around nine o'clock, once the hospital is finished doing with them what they have to."

My parents arrived back home some where around 3:00 that morning. In the meantime, my two sisters and I were waiting at home trying to convince ourselves they were alive. But as soon as we saw our parents, our hopes were dashed. My parents found it next to impossible to enter their home. I went outside to help my parents inside, and their anguished cries broke the stillness of the country morning.

By five o'clock, Amish men and women were arriving rather rapidly, having heard what happened. We were milking twenty head of Holstein cows by hand, plus we had about a dozen heifers and close to that many calves, eight horses, four sows and close to twenty-four feeder pigs at the time. That morning those animals were the last things on our minds. One thing I always liked about the Amish custom when it came to death in the family was that they believed in giving adequate time to mourn a loved one. As soon as the Amish community was notified of a death in the family, until that loved one was buried, the family wasn't expected to lift a finger not for chores, not even to cook.

This funeral was exceptionally rough on my brother Pete and my sister Emma. As brother Pete and Emma had married in the same family. Pete had married Katie's sister, and Emma had married Katie's brother. Joe was going to marry into the same family. Pete arrived at our home early the next morning and so did Emma and her husband, and sister Rachel and her husband.

By 9:00 a.m. brother Joe and Katie's bodies arrived at our residence, and were placed in the living room and the doors closed. By 4:00 p.m. that day, both bodies had been embalmed. They were briefly shown before Katie's body was sent home to her house. By that evening, Amish from all over Wayne County were arriving at our house. The accident was rocking the Amish community. Our house had two living rooms, and both were jammed full of people. None of us was hungry for breakfast, nor were we hungry for lunch or supper. But we had to eat.
In the evening after all the chores were done and everybody ate supper, the Amish custom was to sit around the table and sing German hymns relating to the death. Pete and his wife and Emma and her husband went home after the first viewing of Joe and Katie's bodies. The following day relatives showed up from Tennessee, Medina County, Ohio, Iowa, Missouri, and Indiana. Three charter buses arrived from our less conservative Amish relatives. We had a lot of relatives on my Dad's side, especially. Dad had eleven brothers and sisters and thirteen half brothers and sisters. My Mom came from a family of eight. Katie's family was given three days to mourn her death.

We were given four days to mourn Joe's. The reason for this was so everyone could attend Katie's funeral and still attend Joe's. Joe and Katie were buried in the same cemetery east of Mt. Eaton, Ohio. Both funerals were large. Five hundred twelve people attended Katie's funeral 552 people attended Joe's. The funeral services for my brother were held at four different Amish farm homes.
According to the information we received Joe and his girlfriend Katie had left the Doctors' office in Mt. Eaton at 10:30 or 10:45 after picking up their blood test results. They were heading east on state Road 250, still within the city limits, and were front of a local tavern when they were struck from behind by an eighteen wheeler that was traveling at a high rate of speed. Mt. Eaton is rather small town, but it had two traffic lights.

Witnesses stated that the eighteen-wheeler approached the first light when it was green and the second light when it was red and failed to stop. The eighteen-wheeler hit the buggy with such force that the only thing left was one wheel. The horse was pitched fifteen to twenty feet and landed against a concrete post, hitting with so much force that it broke his back completely in half. Joe landed against the horse, while Katie was dragged by the bumper of the eighteen-wheeler for fifty to seventy five feet.

Then the driver lost control, went down over an embankment, jack knifed. Reports state that the driver was under the influence, and wasn't even aware of what he had hit. Locals were already on the scene as the driver walked back from where he left the roadway, muttering, "Oh my God, I killed somebody." Brother Joe's clothes were completely soaked in blood as he was laying in his own blood and the horse's.

To this day, I wonder why didn't I remember that dream. Why was I sixty seconds too late to make it out to the barn to ask my brother what was wrong? Could I have prevented the accident from happening? I'll never know. My parents were devastated by Joe's death. During the four days of mourning, every time we went into the bedroom to pay our respects to Joe, Mom and Dad broke down and cried. For some reason I couldn't cry. I held it all in, unable to shed one tear. This was somewhat unusual in our culture. There were some in the Amish Community who were saying that I wasn't taking Joe's death too hard, compared to the rest of my family. But nothing could have been further from the truth. A couple of years earlier I had taken some serious beatings, as my Dad flew off the handle for no apparent reason.

Brother Pete, Joe and myself were often been on the receiving end of my Dad's frustration. Little things set him off, such as if it rained too much, when it was time to make hay. One evening before Joe's death, I had just finished milking my cow and was getting up to empty my bucket. I walked passed the cow my sister Mary was milking, grabbed the cow's tail and gave it a whirl. The tail hit my sister Mary in the eyes by accident. This made Dad so furious that he jumped up from the cow he was milking, told me to set my bucket of milk down, and started beating me with closed fists to the point where he knocked me on my buttocks.

Later that evening Dad threatened to beat me with a set of berry cow kickers. Joe assured me that Dad wouldn't beat me with a chain and a steel object on the end of it, but I wasn't so sure. While we lived in Medina County, Ohio, Pete had also taken a severe beating. It was so bad that Pete won't talk about it, even today, except to acknowledge that it was extreme. I remember that beating. Pete wasn't right after that for at least a week. I expect Joe, also, took some serious beating. My parents weren't pleased with Joe at the time of his death, and I think that is what devastated my parents the most. Joe's death is what would eventually drive a wedge in our family.

What little bit of attention we received prior to Joe's death no longer existed. Both of my parents refused to let go. After his funeral all they talked about was what an obedient son he was, that they never had any problems with him. If we made the tiniest mistake, we were quickly reminded: "What if Joe was here? What do you think he'd say?" I always felt that after Joe's death, the three of us youngest kids were pushed to the side. Every time I tried to talk to my parents about Joe or his death the answer was always the same: "Not now, son." It didn't matter if it was a day, a week or a year after the funeral. The answer always was the same.

Two weeks after the funeral, an insurance agent showed up. He wanted to make a settlement, but Dad said, "No amount of money will bring my son back." The insurance agent insisted, and left one thousand and one hundred dollars for the cost of the horse, buggy and the funeral.

Dad didn't want the money, but he accepted it eventually. Dad couldn't go on farming anymore. Our future had been turned upside down. Dad sold his farm equipment, sister Mattie (who was married) moved home, and I started working for an Amish farmer. I made eighty dollars a month, plus room and board. Our family started falling further and further apart. I began running around with a different crowd of boys.

Sometimes on weekends we went out and found a boy who was dating a girl, and we had a little fun with his horse and buggy. We'd take the buggy to a barbwire fence, take the wheel off and stick the axle through the fence, then put the wheel back on. We also took the buggy harness apart a few times. Sometimes we even took off the four clamps that connected the buggy box to the chassis. That way the driver had to kneel on the seat, and roll up the back curtain on the buggy, in order to drive home before daylight. A couple of us Amish boys chipped in on a little radio. There were three of us, so we took turns having the radio. One week, I had it, the next week someone else did, and so on. On weekends we met and listened to the radio together.

We put our money together, and between the three of us, we were able to buy a twelve pack of beer. We were drinking our beer and beginning to feel really good. Then we met another buggy on the road. The passengers screamed at us, saying we "no good." I knew the boy driving the other buggy it was Bishop Jacob Miller's son, Eli. Since, I had a fast horse, I pulled the reins tight and told her to "get." We pulled up beside the other buggy, and then started drag racing.

It didn't last very long, because my horse was a lot faster than his. We told Eli to pull over but he wouldn't listen, so we ran him off into the ditch. I handed my reins to my passenger, jumped off the buggy with my fiberglass buggy whip in my hand, and knocked his big felt hat off his head. Then I told Eli, "If you tell on us, I'll use this whip, on you. So you'd better keep your mouth shut." I don't think Eli knew who we were because we had our hats pulled way down. We had our radio turned on full blast, and were each holding a can of beer. We could have been grounded for up to six months for this. If we had girlfriends, we wouldn't have been able to see them.

I was now eighteen years old. Mom and Dad wanted me to start settling down and join the church, but I wasn't ready for this at all. In fact, I wasn't even sure I wanted to be a member of this church. In Wayne County we had seven different Amish churches, all with different beliefs. Some of these Amish had battery lights and mirrors on their buggies. They also had little windows on their buggy curtains. Some even had heaters. A lot of the churches were more modern than our church.

For example, the women could buy their bras and panties, while we had to make all our clothes ourselves. They wore a lot shorter dresses than the women in our church did. Also, they had kerosene hot water heaters, and bathrooms in their houses. Some of them had couches and love seats in their home. The men had more modern equipment, such as chain saws and tractors. Most of them had to take the balloon tires off, and put steel wheels on. They would buy a modern bailer, take the rubber tires off, and put a regular set of steel wheels on it because they weren't allowed to use air inflated tires on their farm equipment, which made it a lot easier for the horses to pull. A steel wheel will cut quicker into the ground and make it a lot harder to pull the equipment. In order to use this bailer, they had a two-wheel cart, usually with a power unit mounted on it.
This operated the bailer. There were usually three or four great big horses hitched to this cart. That's the way they bailed their hay. They also had grain elevators, which were operated by a three and a half horse powered motor. Their work harnesses and buggy harnesses, were decorated with chrome plated buggies, snaps and white rings where the reins went through, while ours were plain, no chrome plated buggies, snaps or white rings. All our buggies, snaps and rings were painted black. Most of them had their barns white washed on the inside. On the outside their barns were either red or white. They were also allowed to put up a lot of board fence and paint it. Their houses could be split levels, or, as a matter of fact any style they desired. Some also had electricity in their homes.

None of the Amish are allowed to have television or radios in their home, even though some of the teenagers have battery-operated radios without their parents knowledge. When some of the higher classed Amish, turned sixteen or seventeen they decided not to help their parents on the farm anymore. They could then start working in public places, such as restaurants or factories.

Usually they had someone who had a car to take them back and forth to work. The kids would stay at home free of charge, and would save up all their money to buy a car. They would no longer be dressed Amish.

Usually for the first couple of months the parents made their kids park their cars at the end of their driveway, or behind the tool shed. After the parents got used to the kids having a car, they might even have their kids take them places. A couple of boys I went to school with, were higher classed Amish. Their parents helped them buy a decent car. On weekends these boys usually picked up other boys who didn't have cars. Then they'd go out, get drunk, have fun, and listen to the radio.

Sometimes, on a Saturday evening Amish boys and girls would get together with a horse and buggy, then go to Mt. Eaton, Ohio and tie their horses up behind the elevator, where they usually stashed an extra set of clothes. The girls would dress in a pair of jeans, and let their hair down. The guys would also dress up in different more stylish clothes. They'd go out, then come back in time to change clothes and be back home by morning, before their parents got up.

I soon began socializing with these "higher classed" Amish. They had a live and let live attitude. Our church was the most backward church of all of them. We even had a nickname the other Amish called us, the "noodle pushers." Someone once told me we got that nickname for eating so many homemade noodles. We did so because it was inexpensive.

In the early nineteen hundreds, the Amish were all one church, according to the Amish History book. As I sit here writing about my Amish Childhood , they are coming up with even more Amish churches and beliefs. At the present time, there's a big Amish settlement in Wayne County, Ohio. There are some in Pennsylvania, New York, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Wisconsin, Illinois, Minnesota, Nebraska, Missouri, Canada, Kentucky, Tennessee and Florida. As long as we, children, were living at home, we were to dress as our church did. We weren't allowed to have a car at all, let alone park one at home.

If you got a car, you were kicked out of the family, condemned by everyone. Our barns were painted dark red, and if we had a board fence around our corral, we weren't allowed to paint it. Our houses were painted white on the outside, and inside; the woodwork was dark gray. The upstairs was the same, unless there were children who were sixteen years old, or older. Then they usually painted the woodwork dark blue, and the remaining light blue. They weren't allowed to have any couches or love seats. All had to be hardwood chairs, or homemade hickory rockers.

Most of the time we had to carry all our drinking water into the house, in five gallon buckets. There was usually a wood shed built close to the house, on the end of which was a laundry room. The Amish heated the house and cooked on wood burners. The laundry room had a big twenty-five gallon iron kettle in it, which was used to heat water for laundry. When it was time to take a bath, the Amish would also heat the water in the iron kettle. We were usually only allowed to take a bath once a week because, my Dad always said it cost too much for soap and shampoo.

During the summer, when we were busy making hay or thrashing oats, we would a bathe more often. We couldn't have any batteries, storm front windows, lights, or mirrors on our buggies. Also, we couldn't have heaters installed in our buggies. The true old Order Amish believe these items are necessary for safety reasons, in that they are not in conflict with the true Amish religion. The Hershberger, Swartzentruber and the Miller Amish are convinced these items are against the biblical teachings. Therefore, we were permitted a simple buggy with a wooden box, black canvas top, and seventy-two inches of reflecting tape on the back.
At night we used a kerosene lantern with a red reflector on the back of it. The lantern was hung on the outside of the buggy. Not even as much as a slow-moving vehicle emblem on the rear was allowed. I didn't know which group of Amish I wanted to join. I sure didn't like the one I was living in.

At this time, I was working outside, making eighty dollars a month, plus room and board. Mom and Dad insisted that I join their church. In order to keep peace, I decided to join that summer. My brother-in-law, Rudy, was no longer farming at home. Rudy and Dad just couldn't see eye to eye on the farm. My Dad was a southern gentleman, and Rudy was the Bishop's son.

In the Amish, the Bishop is the head of the church. Rudy could get away with practically everything he wanted to because he was the Bishop's son. When Rudy rented the farm, Rudy and Dad didn't have a written contract, just a verbal agreement. Rudy wanted to change his agreement about every two weeks. The preachers somehow or another always believed Rudy, whether he was right or wrong. This caused my Dad a lot of heartaches, so Dad finally told Rudy to move.

Eventually, Dad sold the farm to my brother Pete. Dad kept fifteen acres of land on the back side of the farm, to build he and Mom a little retirement house and barn. Dad would do a little farming and help Pete on his farm. Everything was working our really well for Dad that summer. Dad had somebody living at home who had a lot more respect for him. Everything was going fine until around the end of July.

In about two months, I was scheduled to be baptized, but there were still too many unanswered questions. For instance, some of the higher classed Amish couldn't show in the Bible where it said, you had to be Amish to go to heaven. One afternoon, I told the Amish man that I was working for, that I was sick and I needed to go home. When I got home, I said, "Dad, I need to talk to you."

"Not now, son," Dad said. Dad said, "Look how good your brother Pete is doing farming. And brother Joe would be proud of you if he could see you were growing a beard. Since you're here, you might as well stay for supper."

That was a little more than I could handle. Ever since Joe's death, every time I tried to talk to my parents it was always what if Joe was here. I needed somebody to talk to. I had broken up with my girlfriend Edna for a couple of different reasons.

Edna said my parents were right, I needed to join church because we were going to get married this fall and take over the farming at her parents place. I had never asked Edna to get married. For the last six months Edna was trying desperately to get pregnant or get caught.

One night we were having sex I heard footsteps coming upstairs, I knew it was her brother Joe. He had to go past our room to get to his. He would always stop in and talk for while. Usually he would be high on marijuana. "Edna, we got to quit, your brother is coming," I said impatiently.

"You are going no where, it's just Joe," she said. But I was able to break free a split second before he opened the door. Lucky me, I only had my pants down over my buttocks. "What was all that noise?" Joe questioned.
Frightened, I said, "Oh, it was nothing." Joe was high enough that he soon forgot about the extra noise just before he entered the room. I was able to pull my pants up and button them up under the bed sheet without Joe realizing what I was doing. Joe was younger then Edna and her brother John was older than her. They both like smoking marijuana. This was something I didn't think was cool. At this time marijuana wasn't wide spread under the Swartzentruber Amish.

One Sunday, Joe had tricked me in smoking marijuana. He filled his smoke pipe out of a Prince Albert smoking tobacco pack. He lit up the pipe and said, "Here David, try this out, it is some cheap tobacco. See how you like it."

I took one puff, inhaled it, and I began coughing. "Joe, what is this shit, it taste like you are smoking brush," I said.

Laughing, Joe said, "It's just some cheap tobacco you ought to get use to it." I tried to hand Joe the pipe back. Refusing, Joe said, "No, you must finish it, you will like it better I assure you."

When I finished the pipe of marijuana he filled up another one, and I started smoking on it and I realized something was wrong. I started to get light headed and everything went into slow motion.

I gave Joe the pipe back and asked, "What is this shit?"

"David, you have been smoking dope," he said.

Stunned, I said, "Oh my God." Joe showed me the Prince Albert tobacco pouch, which was filled with marijuana. I was hungry shortly after that and became paranoid. I promised Joe I wouldn't tell on him, but I told him this is my first and my last time, I don't like this shit.

Edna constantly trying to get pregnant while we were having sex and her brothers smoking dope. I had just lost my brother in a tragic accident. Edna, John and Joe all three are members of the church. I definitely was confused. That evening, I decided to leave the Amish. I went up to the other end of the farm where my brother Pete lived. I played with his kids for a while, then began walking, not knowing where I was going and without a dollar in my pocket. I walked all night until I found a nice big modern dairy farm.

"Do you need any help making hay?" I asked the farmer.

"He reply how old are you, son?" I said

"Eighteen sir."

"Yes , sir. I could use a good hand. In fact I have a lot of hay to put up tomorrow. The farmer gave me room and board, and enough money to buy me two sets of English clothes. That was for three days work, from daylight to dark.

On the fourth day we were putting up more hay, when all of a sudden the farmer said, "Look out the driveway. There comes a horse and buggy!" My heart started beating wildly. I knew right then who it was: Mom and Dad! I didn't want to go and talk to them, but the farmer said I should. I was wishing I was any place else but there. But they were my parents, after all, so I had to talk to them.
When I got over to the buggy, Mom looked up with tears in her eyes saying, "There's my son. He's got to come home." Dad was sitting in the buggy with his head tilted down, and his big hat pulled down so I couldn't see his face.

All of a sudden Dad started raising his head. Dad looked up at Mom and said in a low voice, "Lets not cry. Our son is still alive. There's still time for him to come back and live our way."

Dad looked over at me and shook my hand, and said, "We're both sorry, son, we should have listened to you the other day when you said you needed somebody to talk to." We talked for a short while.

The farmer I was working for said, "At eighteen years of age, you're going to help me make hay, or you are going home with your parents."

"Well," I told Mom and Dad, "I'll go home with you, if you promise not whip or yell at me any more.”

"We promise," Dad replied. "We'll listen to what you have to say." I thanked the farmer for the meals, and told him good-bye. I rode home with Mom and Dad in the horse and buggy.

On the way home we stopped at a little store. Mom and Dad asked me if I was hungry. I said I wasn't, but they got ice cream anyway. We went on home and had a great big supper, with strawberries and ice cream. My sister Mary was working in Medina County for an Amish couple eight dollars a week, and room and board. Sister Amanda was working in Wayne County.

Amish girls don't make as much working out as the boys do. They don't believe in equal rights. Mom, Dad and I had the evening all to ourselves. Dad said, "You can help brother Pete on the farm. You don't have to work away anymore." Of course, I was automatically grounded.

Church Sunday came around, and we all went to church. Everyone in church looked at me like I was no good. Those three days that I wasn't Amish, I had my hair cut short and shaved my beard off. I knew they wouldn't baptize me that fall. A month passed and since I'd a taste of the other life. I knew that sooner or later I'd probably try it again. Dad noticed I wasn't the same boy anymore. He figured it might be better if we moved out of this big Amish settlement, to a small Amish community where I didn't know anyone. They were afraid I was going to leave again. I guess they could tell. My parents were feeling very uneasy.