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CHAPTER 6

By the summer of 1978 we were living a modern life style. We moved back to Guernsey County, Ohio about twelve miles from the farm that Dad had bought before he and Mom moved to New York. We were now living with a modern dairyman. I helped Elvin, the dairyman, milk his thirty to forty head of cows, and do field work and so on. We rented a trailer from Elvin, which was on his land.

With me working for Elvin this paid our rent and also gave us a small income. Elvin was just a small dairy farmer he couldn't afford to pay us much, but it sure helped us out. Elvin and his wife Sue were very helpful in trying to teach us a different way of life. They were more like parents to us than friends. When we had problems understanding the modern way of life, they took the time to explain it to us.

The time came when Elvin and Sue couldn't afford to pay me for helping on the farm. After six months or so went by, Elvin advised me to look for a job that would pay more money. I started searching for a brighter future, trying to find something that would pay well, and also something I'd like to do. I didn't want just any job, and I was no hurry.

One day I went driving around and spotted an oil well drilling rig. It brought back memories from when I was a young boy at home back in Wayne County, Ohio. When we lived in Wayne County, Dad had leased our farm out to the oil company. A big rotary drilling rig moved on our farm. This big rig fascinated me so much that every chance I had, I would sneak down where men were working at and watch them as they drilled for oil.

Finally, I got into trouble for it. Dad grounded me and forbid me from going down to the rig anymore. Even at that age, promised myself that if I ever got the opportunity, I'd go to work on one of those rigs. Now the thought that went through my mind: What's stopping me. My biggest problem was to get up enough nerve to go and apply for a job that I knew nothing about. I knew I probably wouldn't qualify for the job because of my lack of experience, but I had two things going for me: I was well built and brought up to work hard. With this in mind, I thought I might have a small chance.

I went to the main office, which was located on State Road forty, right outside of Cambridge, Ohio. There a crew was setting up a drilling rig in their yard, to test it and make sure all parts were working before they took it out to drill another hole. I got out of my car, walked slowly over toward the rig and carefully looked it over. When I got to the rig I asked one of the guys who was in charge, and they told me which one was the driller. He was standing over to my left, beside a big unit with a couple motors on it.

Suddenly, I felt a lump in my throat; this was my big moment. I walked over to the driller and said, "Hey, are you short handed?"

"Yeah," he said roughly. "I need a derrick hand." He looked me over then said, "You ever worked as derrick hand before?"

"No sir, but I'm willing to learn," I said.

"You ever been a chain hand, or warm corner hand?"

"No, but I'm willing to learn, and I'm no stranger to hard work," I said. The few people who worked on the rig were standing close by the driller and they all kind of looked at each other, smiling. I thought their smiles said, "what a jerk."

"Well, anyway," I told the driller, "If you need someone, or you decide to give me a chance, give me a call." I gave him the dairyman's phone number. As I turned to leave I said to the driller, "When is the rig leaving the yard?"

"Next Monday. If I need you, I'll call." I knew by the look that he gave me that a job was out of the question, but I decided to ask him a few last questions.
"How many people work on the rig?"

"Four. Three hands and myself."

"Thanks," I said, and walked back toward my car. When I got back to my car I turned around and looked at them, to see how they were dressed. They were a rough looking bunch, and all wore heavy steel-toed boots. After I finished checking them out, I headed home.

When I returned home, I gave my wife, Elvin and Sue the news. Elvin said, "There's always time for a good opportunity later on. Just try again after a while." However, Fran was pregnant at the time, and our first child would to be born in about 4 months. This meant more bills. I knew I needed a better income to pay for the hospital bill and so on.

With this in mind, I drove back to Cambridge, Ohio, which was about twenty miles from where we lived. I drove around that small town, figuring the people probably ate in restaurants, because they made good money. Nevertheless, it would still have to be kind of a cheap restaurant, where they'd be allowed to go in with their boots on. I spotted an L&K Restaurant on the edge of town.

A couple of vehicles were parked in their parking lot, with Drilling Rig printed on their side. So, I pulled in the parking lot, went in, and ordered something to eat. After I got my food, I looked over the restaurant and spotted a couple of people, who looked like oil field people. I thought they had a rough language, and were dirty looking bunch. Ten to fifteen minutes went by, and then the waitress came back to my table.

"Everything okay?" she said. "Can I get you anything else?"

"I'd like to know what percentage of the customers that come in here are oil field workers?"

"About ninety percent," she said, and asked, "Why?"

"I'm looking to get a job in the oil fields."

"Well, then you're hanging out in the right place. These crews are always short handed when they come in here." I thanked the waitress for the information, and left her a nice tip. I kept going back to the restaurant, a couple times a week. I was still working on the farm. Fran was now training to take over my milking position.

Three weeks went by. We needed something from town anyway, so this was my opportunity to stop at L&K restaurant again. I got ready and went to town. When I got to the restaurant, I ordered a cup of coffee. I was just sitting there smoking my cigarette and drinking coffee when I looked out the window and saw a brand new but dirty Thunder Bird pull in the parking lot. Three men got out of the car and came in the restaurant.

The first man to enter the restaurant was big and fat. The next two men were of thinner and tall. There was an empty table across the aisle from me. They sat themselves down and placed their order. I could tell by the look of these three gentlemen that they had a really rough night, because they looked tired and seemed to be in a bad mood. The fat man appeared to be the leader. They were having an "oil field conversation", which didn't make any sense to me.

All of a sudden, the fat guy said, "That little S.O.B. didn't show up last night. We had to work sixteen hours, eight hours over time. Wait till I get a hold of him. He is fired."

There was my big chance I got the waitress's attention, and motioned her over. I asked her the fat man's name and she glanced at him then said, "Oh that's Earl Miller, the driller."

I took a couple more sips of my coffee, then walked over to the table where Earl and his crew were sitting. When I got to the table, I introduced myself, and told Earl, "Sounds like you guys are short handed."

"Yeah, we are," Earl grinned. "You looking for a job?"

"Yes, sir. I sure am. I noticed that Earl was starting to smile a little bit, and it was a friendly smile. That made lump in my throat disappear.

"You ever worked in the oil fields, before?" Earl said.

"No. But I'm not afraid of hard work," I added quickly.

"At least you're honest. We'll find out about the hard-working part later.

Earl hired me and told me to be back here at the restaurant that night at eight thirty.

"I'll be here," I said.

"We're working eight hour shifts, and sometimes double or triples. Pack a heavy lunch, because you never know when you have to work sixteen hours straight. And steel-toed boots are a must. Do you have any, David?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"What size do you wear?" I told him and he said he'd call the tool pusher that day, and have him bring a pair of boots out to the rig that night. I thanked Earl for the opportunity and went on my way home.

When I got home, I told Fran the good news. She was thrilled. Everybody on the farm was excited for me, for landing such a good paying job. The job involved a lot of over time. I couldn't wait to go to work that night. Our shift was from ten P.M. till six in the morning.

At about nine forty-five we got to the drilling rig, which was a mile off the road on the top of a hill. The lease road was so rough we couldn't drive all the way into the rig. We had to walk about seven tenths of a mile. After we got on the rig floor, we put our lunch boxes down. Earl and the other two hands changed clothes, but Earl had forgotten to tell me to bring an extra set of clothes. I stayed busy that night, taking care of the odds and ends the rest of the crew didn't want to do.

At six o'clock the next morning, our relief showed up. We all went in the doghouse, and the rest of the crew changed their clothes. I grabbed my lunch box and went outside, and when Earl and the crew came out, and we all walked down the lease road together, and back to Earl's brand new Thunder Bird.

When we got to the car, Earl took a good look at me and said, "David, where are your clean clothes? You don't think for one minute that you can ride in my new car with your dirty clothes on, do you?"

I didn't know what to say, so, I said, "I didn't know I had to bring clothes to change into.

Earl said, "You got two choices. Number one: walk home, or, take your boots, shirt, pants and socks off, throw them in the trunk of the car, and ride in the back seat in your underwear on. I'll give you five seconds to make up your mind."

I didn't like either one of my choices, but after some deliberation, I chose choice number two. That was the most embarrassing moment of my life, riding in the back of that new car with just my underwear on. Earl and the other two hands laughed at me all the way home. Earl was right about one thing, though.

He said, "I bet you never forget your change of clothes again."

Coming from the "Amish" and being used to having my body fully clothed all the time, I felt pretty naked and embarrassed. Earl and the other hands tried me out to see if I'd chicken out from working in the oil fields, but their teasing only made me try much harder to do my job. I was beginning to like to work in the oil fields. My first paycheck was six hundred and seventy-five dollars, which made me like it so much more.

As time went by we got used to the good paychecks. Realizing my wife was pregnant and soon due with our first child made us very happy. It motivated me to try to get as much over time in as possible in the oilrigs. When I got tired, all I had to think about was, we are going to a baby and we need the money. This was all the motivation I needed.

The last time Fran went for a family check up, the doctor said it's not going to be long and according to the heartbeat it's a boy. I told Fran it doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl as long as it’s healthy. All I could think about was the baby. I was hoping the baby was going to be healthy and Fran was going to be okay without any complications.

On January 30, 1979, Fran went into labor prematurely. I was so excited I forgot to call my driller to let him know I won't be in tonight. Earlier that day, the heater of our car quit working. I had to call the neighbor and ask them if they could give us a ride to the Guernsey County Memorial Hospital. Fran's contractions increased rapidly. I told the neighbor we had to make it to the hospital A.S.A.P. He said, "No problem. I'll be right there to give you a ride."

When we arrived at the hospital the personnel wanted me to sign papers, but I was too excited to even sit down. Still, I had to calm down and sign the documents needed. I watched as the nurses put Fran in a wheel chair and take her to the delivery room. When I was done signing the documents, I went back to be with my wife. Soon, I realized she was not the only one in the delivery room in labor. I could hear the screams of the other women in labor.

Then , Fran starting gripping my hands very hard and making grunting sounds. Terrified, I left the delivery room. As I was leaving, I told the nurse, "Nurse, there has got to be something you can do about this."

"No, Mr. Yoder," she said firmly. "This is normal."

Still heeding to the women screaming, I said, "I can't take this anymore. I'm getting the hell out of here. I will be downstairs in the waiting room," I said walking out. I paced the floor in the waiting room for an hour and forty-five minutes, which seemed like an eternity.

Suddenly, a voice over the intercom said, "Mr. Yoder, you are wanted up in the maternity ward."

I was so excited I couldn't remember where the maternity ward was. I stopped at the gift store and asked the lady there where it was. I took the elevator to the forth floor where Fran was at.

Soon as I stepped off the elevator the nurse met me and said, "This way, Mr. Yoder."

Still excited, I asked the nurse, "Is my wife okay?"

"Everything is just fine," she said. "You have a healthy baby girl."

"I do, I do," I said excitedly.

"Yep," she said.

In shock, I said, "Oh boy." When I entered the room there was Fran with our beautiful little baby daughter in her arms. I felt like I was ten foot tall and bullet proof. I had never been so proud in my life. I ask the nurse, "Can I hold my baby girl?"

"Yes, just be careful."

We named our daughter Debra Kay Yoder. Debra was born premature, but was healthy as could be expected. She weighed less than six pounds, so she had to stay in the hospital for a couple days until she gained some weight. The next day I went to L&K Restaurant to meet Earl and explain to him why I didn't make it in last night to work. As luck would have it Earl and the rest of the crew was sitting at a table eating lunch, as they had to work a double shift. When I approached Earl I told him I could explain why I missed work last night.

Angry, Earl said, "You better have a dam good reason."

"I do. My wife gave birth to a baby girl last night." Earl had a half way grin on his face and said, "I guess that will do." When I told Earl that we named our baby girl after his girlfriend, Earl smiled from ear to ear and said, "You did."

"Yep," I said.

Fran and I considered Earl and his girlfriend very good friends. We had cookouts with them. Even though Earl always picked on me at work . I didn't mind that. I continued working in the oil fields for some time after Debra was born. I thought our life was looking better, but I had forgotten one small detail about our life. We were living right outside of the Amish settlement, which caused Fran and I a lot of heartaches. The public was very curious, as to why an Amish couple modernized. Fran and I were very careful what we said about the Amish we didn't want to discriminate against them. We just wanted to get on with our lives, and forget about our past. But that was an almost impossible task.

A couple of Amish preachers and a couple of members were willing to talk to the public about us. They told their side of the story, trying to disgrace us in anyway possible. I guess they thought that would make their church look better in the eyes of the public. We had told them when we left that we would keep their secrets. But apparently that wasn't enough for them. They made statements against us that weren't true. Though we knew it wouldn't be easy, we decided to stay in the area, since I liked my job in the oil fields and it paid pretty well. Nevertheless, our past haunted us.

Living in the same area as the Amish, we often ran into them in the grocery stores. Even though we tried to go about our business, they'd often stop and talk to us. Usually the conversation was short. They generally told us we were going to hell, and asked how we could live with ourselves after what we'd done.

On one occasion, I ran across my sister Emma, and her husband Andy, who had come to Ohio from New York to visit friends and family. All I wanted to do was go up to Emma and say Hi, How are you doing, it's nice to see you again. But that was a mistake.

When I walked up to them and said hello, Emma's response was, "Who are you?"

"It's me. David," I said. Emma was stunned, and Andy immediately began to tell me what he thought of me.

"David, you are going to hell," he said. "You’ve always been a bad boy. Ever since I can remember you have always been different, never any good."

Then, looking at me, he added, "Too bad it was Joe who got killed instead of you. I'd rather come to your funeral as an Amish man, than see you stand before me in your English clothes." Andy stopped for a couple seconds.

After a couple of minutes I said, "Anything else on your mind?" Andy didn't answer.
After another awkward pause I said sincerely, "It was nice seeing you two again. I wish both of you all the luck in the world, may God bless you" and then I walked away. But my day was ruined. Even my own sister and brother-in-law couldn't talk nicely to me.

In the fall of 1979, we were preparing to move to Texas and we received a wedding invitation from Fran's parents. It stated that their daughter Mary was getting married to Tony Miller. We didn't think we'd get a wedding invitation since we were no longer Amish. Dan was the Bishop, and very strict, Barbara was an obedient wife and loved her children.

Dan and Barbara came to an agreement, once my child no matter what you will always be my child. Dan said he couldn't find any biblical scripture saying not to invite us. The biggest majority of the Swartzentruber Amish didn't agree with this. We attended the wedding but Dan made sure he didn't speak to either one of us. Barbara waited till she caught Fran by herself to talk and spoke very nice to her and asked her how our little baby girl was doing. There is one thing that was obvious, we were invited, we attended, but we weren't welcome.

None of the married Amish men spoke to me except Fran's oldest Amish brother. And my father-in-law wouldn't even look at me. We stayed till around eight thirty that evening. The only people who spoke to me were the young children; they were curious how it was like being English. They also made some remarks against their strict parents. I was as glad to leave the wedding, as they were to see us go. Tony is now married and still hasn't confessed to stealing Joe George's car. Dennis hasn't confessed either.

Their secret still remains between Tony and Dennis. We stayed around the area for a while longer. I even helped drill four oil wells on Amish farms. The Amish didn't like that, but usually they didn't find out who I was until the well was almost completed. Finally, Fran and I decided to leave the Ohio.