Why I Left the Amish: A Memoir

Reckoning with Joe

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. Maya Angelou Reckoning with Joe In the morning, I asked David if we could visit my mother on the way out of Ohio. He said, “You realize we will be getting home really late, don’t you?” “Yes, but I just don’t know when we will see her again.” “Okay, but it will be late by the time Tim and I get back to Vermont, after dropping you off.” “Would you want to stay in Northampton overnight?” “No, I want to get back to work tomorrow morning. But we can stop by at your Mom’s if you want. I will just count on this being a long day.” When we drove into the driveway of the farm where I grew up, David had the inspiration to knock on Joe and Emma’s door and compliment them on their job of taking care of Datt on his deathbed, and for the arrangements of the funeral. Joe quickly stamped out a cigarette when Emma opened the door and invited us in. I was happy he didn’t do what he used to when we were young and I complained about the smell of his cigarette smoke. Then he would come and smoke into my face in response to my complaints. Many people in the family and in my original community were of the opinion that Joe had changed over the years. Certainly there were outward 78 / why i left the amish signs of that—the farm was in much better shape than it had been fifteen years before. Back then, when David and I would go back to visit, we would find chicken feet and heads lying in the yard, and the animals showed signs of neglect. It all seemed to signify the depressed state of the owner of the farm. But over the years, all the farm buildings that were dilapidated and crumbling had been replaced with the new construction of a horse barn, buggy shed, and shop. Horses grazed in the fields behind the shop, creating a more picturesque view of the pasture than when we had two pigs, two horses, two cows, and one hundred chickens all competing for the same space. Datt’s funeral had been held in the shed the day before, but the people in the community had helped put back all the furniture in the house, and there were no traces left of the funeral. David and I shook hands with Joe and Emma. We had had plenty of practice the previous few days. David said, “You both did a really good job with the funeral.” “Oh, we can’t take credit for that; we didn’t do any of it. The people in the community did it all,” Joe said. I said, “Well, even if you don’t want to take credit for it, I thought it went really well.” “Yes, we have no regrets,” Joe said. Then he changed the subject. “Are you going back today?” “Yes, but I wanted to see Mem on our way back, and we thought we would stop in and say hello,” I said. “Well, I am glad you did,” Joe said. “Come see us again sometime.” “Okay, we will.” David said on his way out the door, “I still say you did a good job.” He and Tim had gone out the door, and I had my hand on the knob, when Joe asked, “Did you get to talk with many of the relatives yesterday?” “Yes, I did. I found everyone really friendly. Even Uncle Gid was talking with David and me.” We discussed when the relatives would be returning to Wisconsin, New York State, and Kentucky respectively. I closed the door, and suddenly I found myself in a situation that I always told myself I would avoid—I was talking with Joe without David there as a support for me. But I took comfort in Emma’s presence, and decided I could leave anytime if I felt the need to. I became aware that Joe and Emma were both talking in English, and I Reckoning with Joe / 79 said, “You two can talk in Amish if you’d like, but I might have to switch to English to respond.” “But I thought you didn’t like that,” Joe said. I knew Joe was referring to a phone conversation...