Blogger's Note: Since this blog is somewhat Amishcentric, I get questions from time to time from readers about Amish life and culture, which I refer to my Aunt Tillie, an opinionated, but humble Amish woman. Here is a recent question and answer. Please leave a comment or email me if you have questions you want me to refer to her in the future.
Dear Aunt Tillie:
Driving through the Amish community the other day, I saw lots of Amish people out riding bicycles. Is that really allowed, or were the bicycle riders doing their rumspringa, like I saw an ABC?
(Signed) Curious
Dear Curious:
I don't know what ABC said about "rumspringa" (we Amish don't have television.) "Rumspringa" literally means "running around," in Pennsylvania Dutch, so the bicycle riders might have been running around doing errands. But they usually don't have television shows about Amish doing errands (or at least so I assume, not being an expert on television shows.) So, you're probably asking about the other type of rumspringa which is when teenagers who are not yet church members have a little of what they consider fun by drinking beer, and dancing and smoking (and maybe engage in a little premarital sex.) But I digress, as I tend to do so often these days, you want to know whether it is allowed for Amish to ride bicycles. Well, of course we can ride bicycles. The Bible does not say, "Thou shalt not ride a bicycle." (Ha, ha, that's a joke, we Amish don't believe that everything we can't do is literally forbidden by the Bible. It would take a lot bigger book than the Bible to include everything we can't do.)
I've never ridden a bicycle, although I tried once many years ago when Ezra and the children were away. Our youngest daughter, Sovilla, had a bicycle that she stored in the barn and riding it didn't look that hard, so I got it out and tried to make it go, but it fell over and I got one foot caught underneath and one foot was waving around up in the air rather immodestly, so I just figured if God had wanted me to learn to ride a bicycle, he would have taught me long before then. That was about 40 years ago, and I've never had the urge to ride again.
So why are bicycles allowed but cars forbidden? I don't know the answer to that one. That's just the way it has always been. Maybe it's because cars go faster and you can drive further in a car than on a bicycle, so there's more of a temptation to use a car to get out of the Amish community and go see what the English are doing. But some of these modern bicycles can go pretty fast and far. Some of the Amish boys have been taking road trips on their bicycles, all the way over to the Mississippi River, and they're just doing that for fun, so I don't know. Idleness is the devil's work shop, they say, and maybe there's some devilment those boys could get into in a car that they couldn't on a bicycle, but I've never heard that as an explanation for why bicycles are allowed but cars aren't. I just hope those Amish boys don't start wearing that Velcro clothing, or whatever they call, that the English stuff their bodies into that shows all their bulges. That looks pretty awful, but somehow the English think you have to look funny to ride a bicycle, I guess. We Amish probably look funny enough already without having to start wearing Velcro pants, but to each his own.
(Signed) Aunt Tillie
Showing posts with label Aunt Tillie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aunt Tillie. Show all posts
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Ask Aunt Tillie: Do You Love New York?
Blogger's Note: Since this blog is somewhat Amishcentric, I get questions from time to time from readers about Amish life and culture, which I refer to my Aunt Tillie, an opinionated, but humble Amish woman. Here is a recent question and answer. Please leave a comment or email me if you have questions you want me to refer to her in the future.
Dear Aunt Tillie:
As you know I went to New York City a few weeks ago to see my son perform at Carnegie Hall. One of my readers thought I should offer to take you along. But, since we were flying instead of taking a van, I knew you couldn't be talked into it. But I do think I remember you telling about visiting New York once. Have you ever been to New York City? What did you think of it?
Signed, Amishlaw
Dear Nephew:
You're right, I did visit New York City once, a long time ago, before I was married. I went to see my sister, your aunt, Emma, who worked in New York City as a registered nurse. Emma always had a wanderlust, going off to pick cotton in Oklahoma several summers before finally leaving home for good to go to nursing school. I still don't know exactly how she wound up in New York City, of all places, but I guess she probably wanted to prove she could make it in the big city and they don't make cities any bigger than New York, at least not in this country.
Emma would come home with her clickety little high heels and tight skirts and flirty little comments when any man was around, which some of my sisters didn't appreciate, but I didn't mind because I knew she wasn't after any of the slow-talking men in our community. She used to tell me that I should come visit her, so one fall after we had the corn shucked, I told my father, your grandfather, Obed, that I was going to take off a week and go to New York City.
Surprisingly enough, Obed didn't say too much against it; I guess probably because when he was a young man, his father let him visit New York City and it sure didn't corrupt him. Obed's father, Andrew, gave him $2,000, which was a lot of money in 1915, to go to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania to look for a wife. He decided he was going to see New York while he was out east, so he took the train in and got off in Grand Central Station. He walked out of the station, looked around at the big buildings, said, "There's nothing here that I want to see," and went back and got the next train out, on to Lancaster.
(Obed wound up corrupting the Amish young people of Lancaster County, as it turned out. After he returned to Illinois, the bishops in Lancaster sent a letter to the bishops in Illinois, asking them not to send any more of their young men to Lancaster. They were upset because he had taught their young people how to dance.)
Anyway, I spent a little more time in New York City and had way more fun there than Obed, probably because I had Emma as a guide. She met me at the station and took me to her house in Queens, and then took me to see all the sights. We went up on top of the Empire State Building, where I bought a little commemorative medallion that I still have somewhere around here, and we took a boat ride and saw the Statute of Liberty, although we didn't climb up inside.
Emma wanted to take me dancing, but I was afraid that I would look foolish because I really didn't know how to do ballroom dancing. The dancing the Amish young people did was more what you would call "square dancing." Emma got to be pretty good at ballroom dancing,and would enter and win dance contests. (Dancing turned out to be Emma's downfall, but that's a story for another time.)
Even though I wouldn't go dancing, Emma and I had a good time in New York. She took me out to eat in an Italian restaurant and a Chinese restaurant. We didn't have those kinds of restaurants when I was growing up, and even if there had been any in our little Midwestern town, there would be no reason to eat at a restaurant when we had plenty of food at home, and besides who had money to pay for restaurant food.
I could see why Obed didn't think much of the place, with all those tall buildings, you didn't see the sun until about 10 o'clock in the morning, and with all the cars honking their horns and people shouting and running around like ants in an anthill that a cow just stepped on, it was pretty nerve-wracking. But it was interesting to look at the strange people, and I guess they thought I was strange too because they were looking at me, just like I was looking at them. I wouldn't mind going back some day if my health holds up and you can find a train that goes there, but I don't think I'm ready to be squeezed into a van for 10 or 12 hours, or however long it takes to drive there and I know I wouldn't go up in an airplane. But if your son goes back out there to play his fiddle again, you let me know. I might just figure out a way to go listen to him.
Aunt Tillie
Dear Aunt Tillie:
As you know I went to New York City a few weeks ago to see my son perform at Carnegie Hall. One of my readers thought I should offer to take you along. But, since we were flying instead of taking a van, I knew you couldn't be talked into it. But I do think I remember you telling about visiting New York once. Have you ever been to New York City? What did you think of it?
Signed, Amishlaw
Dear Nephew:
You're right, I did visit New York City once, a long time ago, before I was married. I went to see my sister, your aunt, Emma, who worked in New York City as a registered nurse. Emma always had a wanderlust, going off to pick cotton in Oklahoma several summers before finally leaving home for good to go to nursing school. I still don't know exactly how she wound up in New York City, of all places, but I guess she probably wanted to prove she could make it in the big city and they don't make cities any bigger than New York, at least not in this country.
Emma would come home with her clickety little high heels and tight skirts and flirty little comments when any man was around, which some of my sisters didn't appreciate, but I didn't mind because I knew she wasn't after any of the slow-talking men in our community. She used to tell me that I should come visit her, so one fall after we had the corn shucked, I told my father, your grandfather, Obed, that I was going to take off a week and go to New York City.
Surprisingly enough, Obed didn't say too much against it; I guess probably because when he was a young man, his father let him visit New York City and it sure didn't corrupt him. Obed's father, Andrew, gave him $2,000, which was a lot of money in 1915, to go to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania to look for a wife. He decided he was going to see New York while he was out east, so he took the train in and got off in Grand Central Station. He walked out of the station, looked around at the big buildings, said, "There's nothing here that I want to see," and went back and got the next train out, on to Lancaster.
(Obed wound up corrupting the Amish young people of Lancaster County, as it turned out. After he returned to Illinois, the bishops in Lancaster sent a letter to the bishops in Illinois, asking them not to send any more of their young men to Lancaster. They were upset because he had taught their young people how to dance.)
Anyway, I spent a little more time in New York City and had way more fun there than Obed, probably because I had Emma as a guide. She met me at the station and took me to her house in Queens, and then took me to see all the sights. We went up on top of the Empire State Building, where I bought a little commemorative medallion that I still have somewhere around here, and we took a boat ride and saw the Statute of Liberty, although we didn't climb up inside.
Emma wanted to take me dancing, but I was afraid that I would look foolish because I really didn't know how to do ballroom dancing. The dancing the Amish young people did was more what you would call "square dancing." Emma got to be pretty good at ballroom dancing,and would enter and win dance contests. (Dancing turned out to be Emma's downfall, but that's a story for another time.)
Even though I wouldn't go dancing, Emma and I had a good time in New York. She took me out to eat in an Italian restaurant and a Chinese restaurant. We didn't have those kinds of restaurants when I was growing up, and even if there had been any in our little Midwestern town, there would be no reason to eat at a restaurant when we had plenty of food at home, and besides who had money to pay for restaurant food.
I could see why Obed didn't think much of the place, with all those tall buildings, you didn't see the sun until about 10 o'clock in the morning, and with all the cars honking their horns and people shouting and running around like ants in an anthill that a cow just stepped on, it was pretty nerve-wracking. But it was interesting to look at the strange people, and I guess they thought I was strange too because they were looking at me, just like I was looking at them. I wouldn't mind going back some day if my health holds up and you can find a train that goes there, but I don't think I'm ready to be squeezed into a van for 10 or 12 hours, or however long it takes to drive there and I know I wouldn't go up in an airplane. But if your son goes back out there to play his fiddle again, you let me know. I might just figure out a way to go listen to him.
Aunt Tillie
Monday, April 09, 2007
Ask Aunt Tillie: What About My Seester's Picture?
Blogger's Note: Since this blog is somewhat Amishcentric, I get questions from time to time from readers about Amish life and culture, which I refer to my Aunt Tillie, an opinionated, but humble Amish woman. Here is a recent question and answer. Please leave a comment or email me if you have questions you want me to refer to her in the future.
Dear Aunt Tillie:
My sister wonders what you would say about borrowing her picture from a school publication and publishing it on my blog. What is it about Amish and pictures anyway? Have you ever had your picture taken? Could you give me a copy to put on my blog so I can convince readers you really do exist?
Signed: Amishlaw
Dear Nephew:
So many questions; so little time. First of all, I have never read your blog, so I don't know how appropriate it was to publish your sister's picture. I hope you didn't show her face, not that there's anything wrong with her face, but we Amish prefer to be photographed from the rear. I think your sister's rear would have been just as nice to show your readers as her face, and it would have been less embarrassing for her.
What it is about Amish and pictures is kind of puzzling to me, too. Our preachers tell us that one of the Ten Commandments is that we are not to have any graven images, and that is why we don't have our pictures taken. The problem with that explanation is that we do have graven images of landscapes, animals and other things on calendars which we have all over our houses, so I don't think it's really the Ten Commandments. The Ten Commandments don't say don't make graven images of people, but maybe that's what they mean. I try not to do too much interpreting of the Bible, but just go by what it says. We don't like tourists taking our pictures, but who does? Even the Hollywood people, I'm told, get mad when tourists stick cameras in their faces and those are people who make their livings getting their pictures taken.
I did have my picture taken once, before I joined the church, and I gave it to Abner when he was courting me, but when I joined the church, I tore it up. It wasn't the sin so much that made me get rid of it as the feeling that if I kept looking at that thing, I would want to start improving my face and then could lipstick, liposuction and Botox be far behind? Since then I've only been photographed from the rear (and I have to confess that I start thinking about liposuction again when I see those ample shots) when some photographer showed up when I was in town buying groceries or some worldly nephew showed up at a funeral and wanted to take some souvenirs to show his friends.
As far as getting a picture of me to prove that I exist, I'm afraid I can't go along with that. What would a picture prove other than I'm getting a little old and wrinkled. The skeptical would think you just found a picture of some other Amish woman and the believers don't need pictures. I guess if God doesn't have to produce a picture to prove he exists, I shouldn't have to either.
Dear Aunt Tillie:
My sister wonders what you would say about borrowing her picture from a school publication and publishing it on my blog. What is it about Amish and pictures anyway? Have you ever had your picture taken? Could you give me a copy to put on my blog so I can convince readers you really do exist?
Signed: Amishlaw
Dear Nephew:
So many questions; so little time. First of all, I have never read your blog, so I don't know how appropriate it was to publish your sister's picture. I hope you didn't show her face, not that there's anything wrong with her face, but we Amish prefer to be photographed from the rear. I think your sister's rear would have been just as nice to show your readers as her face, and it would have been less embarrassing for her.
What it is about Amish and pictures is kind of puzzling to me, too. Our preachers tell us that one of the Ten Commandments is that we are not to have any graven images, and that is why we don't have our pictures taken. The problem with that explanation is that we do have graven images of landscapes, animals and other things on calendars which we have all over our houses, so I don't think it's really the Ten Commandments. The Ten Commandments don't say don't make graven images of people, but maybe that's what they mean. I try not to do too much interpreting of the Bible, but just go by what it says. We don't like tourists taking our pictures, but who does? Even the Hollywood people, I'm told, get mad when tourists stick cameras in their faces and those are people who make their livings getting their pictures taken.
I did have my picture taken once, before I joined the church, and I gave it to Abner when he was courting me, but when I joined the church, I tore it up. It wasn't the sin so much that made me get rid of it as the feeling that if I kept looking at that thing, I would want to start improving my face and then could lipstick, liposuction and Botox be far behind? Since then I've only been photographed from the rear (and I have to confess that I start thinking about liposuction again when I see those ample shots) when some photographer showed up when I was in town buying groceries or some worldly nephew showed up at a funeral and wanted to take some souvenirs to show his friends.
As far as getting a picture of me to prove that I exist, I'm afraid I can't go along with that. What would a picture prove other than I'm getting a little old and wrinkled. The skeptical would think you just found a picture of some other Amish woman and the believers don't need pictures. I guess if God doesn't have to produce a picture to prove he exists, I shouldn't have to either.
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