by Risner, Fay
“Wonder how Rudy Briskey came to name the goat Gano?” Jim puzzled. “Sure is a funny name for a goat.”
“It is for sure, Dad,” Hal said. “John, does Gano mean something in Pennsylvania Dutch?”
John shook his head. “Nah.”
Aunt Tootie piped up. “It sounds like a Spanish word.”
“You might be right,” Nora agreed. “Hal, do you still have that book on language translations to English we gave you when you became a nurse.”
“Jah, it's in the quilt chest in our bedroom. I'll go get it,” Hal said and went upstairs.
She came back and sat by the gas lamp at the end of the cough to look through it. “Let's see. Here is the Spanish section.” She went through the G pages.” “Oh, no!”
“What does it say for Gano, dear?” Aunt Tootie asked.
With a meek tone, Hal said, “Gano means I win.”
John grimaced. “Are you sure?”
“Jah,” Hal said.
“That means in Rudy Briskey language that he got the last laugh on us again,” John grumbled. He rubbed his forehead and fingered his bible for a moment. Suddenly, his face lightened up, and he burst out laughing.
Just the reaction the rest of them hoped for from John, since they were having a hard time holding back their laughter.
A few minutes after that, Bishop Bontrager and his wife, Jane, stopped by to see how Hal was feeling. While they sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and eating a piece of spice cake, John asked how the plans for the barn raising were coming along.
Bishop Bontrager tapped his cup with his fingers. “In the previous week, volunteer help to build the barn had been secured by a committee that mailed invitations to other nearby Amish communities. Also, offers of help came through the Amish hot line.”
“Exactly what is that?” Jim asked.
Jane explained, “We have a telephone call list that enables members to quickly forward news, prayer requests and important church news.”
The bishop added, “The committee in charge of notifying everyone about the barn raising gave them two days notice on the hot line. A week's notice was provided for Stolfus relatives farther away that will want to help.”
“Levi Yoder stopped by our stand,” Noah said. “He says the Amish sawmill had been turning out oak and pine planks, laboring fast to fill the order in time for the barn raising.”
“Sure seems like an old fashion event, putting up a barn in this day and age this way,” Nora surmised.
Hal nodded. “Barn raisings are associated with the Amish, but if I remember my American history right in the 1700 and 1800's during homesteading, barn raising events united English neighbors regardless of religious affiliation. Volunteers provided labor for residents who lost a barn through disaster or who wanted to expand their farming.”
Jim added, “The tradition of building raising is part of the past as far as the English are concerned. As time passed, the English invented labor saving devices like cranes which reduced the need for volunteers to do the heavy lifting.
A crane is rented to use to set center beams and complete other heavy chores like lifting the walls. Less accidents happened when a crane lifts the heavy beams and walls instead of many men working together. Construction on a building gets done just as fast.
Now English people are willing to pay carpenters to build houses and barns.”
“The Amish see the tradition of barn raising differently, ain't so, Bishop?” John raised an eyebrow at Elton Bontrager. “Plain people don't expect barn or house raisings to ever go away. Helping each other is part of being Amish.”
After the Bontragers said good bye, John followed Elton and Jane outside. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he spoke, “Bishop, could I talk to you for a minute in private?”
“Sure enough. Jane, go on to the buggy,” Elton said and watched for his wife to get out of ear shot. “Now, John, was ist letz?”
“Today we filled a wagon with hay to take over to the new Stolfus barn when it is done. While Jim and I worked in the hayloft, I accidentally discovered a transistor radio on a rafter.”
Bishop Elton clasped his hands in front of him. “I see. Do you know the owner?”
“Nah, but I wondered if you might consider a sermon on our beliefs about no modern conveniences, and aim it at at the youth in rumspringa. Perhaps, it will be what Noah or Daniel or both of them needs to hear to repent for buying the radio.”
“Be glad to help you out, Brother John. This sounds like a timely sermon that might help other youth to give up the English ways,” the bishop said. “If the sermon works, let me know how this matter turned out.”
“Denki, you can count on that, Bishop,” John said.
The Stolfus barn raising was actually a thoroughly planned process. At the beginning, Plain children descended on the Stolfus farm with their sleeves rolled up, ready to start and finish the clean up effort in a day. Removing the old barn's foundation, rubble and ashes was necessary. A very long labor intensive day, but young and enthusiastic hands made light work. While children cleared the cement blocks away, they salvaged the usable blocks to use in the new foundation.
The school children of all ages chattered as they worked and even broke out in a hymn. At midday, they stopped for lunch when women called them to take a break.
Hal, her mother, and aunt brought sandwiches. Linda Yoder and her mother-in-law, Margaret, brought potato salad. Emma brought a pea salad. Edna Stolfus baked three cakes. Roseanna Nisely made one hundred doughnuts. The drinks in coolers were grape Kool Aid and ice tea. Several coolers of water were for any time the youngsters were thirsty. Some just needed to wash down the bad taste from the smoke and ashes.
Eager to get finished by the end of the day, the children ate and returned to work. The women were packing up their baskets and washing dishes when they heard the painful yell. They stopped to look toward what remained of the rubble. The children had grouped together, milling around Mark Yoder.
Linda Yoder exclaimed, “Something is wrong with my son. He's hopping on one foot.”
The women ran to the boy, Daniel's age, as he hopped across the driveway with his brother, Levi, and Noah holding him upright. Daniel and Davie Stolfus got behind Mark and helped lower him to the lawn.
The boy held his left foot, rocking back and forth as he groaned.
“What happened, Mark?” Linda asked, pushing his dark hair back from his sweaty forehead.
Mark swallowed hard to hold back tears. “I stepped on a nail. It went through my shoe.”
Hal went to her knees beside him. “Let me see. She looked at the sole of his farmer shoe. The head of a square, rusty nail stuck out an inch from the sole. The rest was in Mark's foot.
“Bring me a bolt cutter to take off the head of the nail so we can slip Mark's shoe off. We'll also need a pair of pliers to pull the nail out of his foot,” Hal said.
“I'll get them,” Davie shuffled away, headed for the tool shed.
Mark's completion was ashen. Hal was afraid he'd pass out. “Linda, sit beside Mark and hold his hand.”
“What can we do?” Edna asked.
“I need a pan of water, a cloth and towel. We have to wash the blood off Mark's foot so I can see to clean the wound. Also, clean cloth to use as a bandage,” Hal listed.
Edna Stolfus and Margaret Yoder rushed to the house. Davie came back with the bolt cutter.
Levi Yoder took the cutter from Davie. “Let me cut the nail off, Nurse Hal.”
“Gute. Noah, hold Mark's leg gute and tight so he doesn't flinch.” As Noah moved by Mark, a glance at the concern on Daniel's face for his best friend told Hal he needed something to do to help. “Daniel, you put your arm around Mark and lower him to the ground. Stay by his side to keep him from moving. All recht, Noah, hold the foot steady. Levi, cut the nail head.”
Levi put the end of the nail cutter against Mark's shoe sole and snapped the nail head off swiftly. He got back out of the way and handed the bolt
cutter to Davie to take back to the shed.
“Now I'll untie the shoe and ease it off his foot. All of you be prepared for the sight of blood,” Hal warned. She loosened the shoe string, took it out of the eyes and pulled the tongue back toward the shoe toe. “Hold tight, Noah,” Hal said softly as she eased the shoe off with one smooth movement.
“Mama Hal, Mark fainted,” Daniel cried.
“That's gute. We'll clean the wound before he wakes up,” Hal said.
Emma knelt beside Hal. Edna handed her the pan of warm water. Margaret set a basket with bandaging material near Hal and laid a cloth and towel on top the basket. Emma dropped the cloth in the wash pan.
Hal rolled the black sock off Mark's foot as blood dripped from it. “Denki, ladies.” The sock resisted on top the foot. Hal eased the sock up and found the nail had gone through to the top of the foot.
“What else can we do to help?” Edna asked.
“Pray,” Hal replied. As she studied the nail, with blood oozing around it, in the bottom of Mark's foot, the women circled around them and knelt to pray. “Noah, hold his leg tight at the ankle.” Hal picked up the pliers and got a good bite on the nail shank. She gave a pull, and the nail came out. Blood poured from the wound.
Emma handed Hal the wash cloth.
Hal wiped as much blood as she could from the site. “I believe the nail hit an a vein. We need to send Mark to the hospital. Someone call the ambulance.”
Davie Stolfus shuffled off to the phone booth without being told.
Emma rinsed out the wash cloth. Hal wrapped it around Mark's foot and pressed in on the wound sites, hoping pressure would slow the bleeding.
It seemed to take forever before the ambulance stopped by the group in the yard. Daryl and Ivan wheeled the gurney over while Steve carried the back board.
Steve asked Linda Yoder for Mark's name and age with history of medicines and allergies. Daryl asked Hal for an assessment of the wound as Ivan and he rolled the gurney to the ambulance. In a matter of minutes, the ambulance raced down the road hidden in plumes of dust.
On Tuesday, three men were placed in charge of constructing the barn - a contractor, a mason and a post-and-beam expert. They coordinated teams of workers for the project. Over a hundred men worked each day. That meant almost as many women came to cook, and a great number of children did odd jobs.
The barn raising started with the foundation. A small group of men mortared cement blocks together. True to his word, Chicken Plucker and his sons had taken out the barn yard fence and laid out the area for the new foundation farther away from the house. By late afternoon the foundation was together and drying.
The following day, Wednesday, the early morning sun shone brightly over harvested corn and hay fields. Timbers revealed a patchwork of colored leaves. A heavy frost coated everything, lending gay sparkles to the landscape.
Over two hundred Amish men, women, and a countless number of children, walked the rural roads. Some took short cuts as they traversed harvested fields. Others drove steeled wheeled, blue or green tractors, buggies and horses. They started arriving around eight that morning.
Boys met buggies at the entrance of the hay field behind the house. They took charge of the buggies and tied up the horses to the ropes stretched out from hay wagon to hay wagon. The field quickly filled with neat rows of buggies.
The men gathered at the site of the barn's foundation. Lumber, boxes of nails and stacks of roofing tin were neatly piles, ready to be assembled by workers during the frolic. The smell of fresh cut wood lingered over the area.
When it looked like all the crew was assembled, Bishop Bontrager came to stand by the barn foundation and motioned for the Plain people to mill around him. He held his hand up for quiet. “We shall have the dedication for the barn raising now.”
The men took off their straw hats. Everyone bowed their heads, and the children quieted down. Bishop Bontrager raised his voice to be heard by the large crowd. “The Lord will work among us with the unfolding of this barn. This is His way to make gute things come from bad if we let Him. Prayers, support and counsel from all of you, our brothers, sisters and friends are solicited for our safety as this barn goes up.
May your lives bear witness to the message of hard work and fellowship we are called to share by putting up this barn. For the Lord is present with us, His people. He celebrates life with us. This barn we dedicate today is already yours, O God, for you are our God! We are the sheep of your pasture, a flock under your care. Keep our workers safe this day. Praise be to God! Amen and Amen.” He raised his head and put his straw hat back on. “Now, builders, we can begin already.”
Abel Beiler supervised the completion of the work. He had many years of experience in such endeavors. The workers participated under his direction to erect the frame, walls, and the roof.
After a short discussion with the contractors, the men rolled up their sleeves and went to work at the various jobs. The older, experienced men acted as supervisors. Men and teenage boys cut boards to fit. Others nailed the boards together. Young boys ran errands, carried tools where needed and kept the men's nail aprons filled.
Early that morning, the operator parked the crane off to the side. With his hard hat on, the man picked up a hammer and pounded nails while he waited for a signal to bring the crane forward and get hooked up to a beam or wall.
The women and girls prepared for the noon feast as they visited. Hal still have a slight headache. She didn't know if she could stay on her feet all day or not. She probably should have stayed home after the stress of the day before, but she didn't want to miss the barn raising.
What a trooper Mark Yoder was, He insisted on coming. Right now he sat under the maple shade tree in the Stolfus yard with his bandaged foot elevated on a rolled quilt. From the frown on the boy's face, Hal figured his foot was throbbing, but he didn't want to stay home and miss out on the barn raising. If Mark could endure suffering from his aching foot to be there, she could put up with a slight headache.
This was a special day her parents and aunt would have to tell their friends about when they went home. Nora was helping Margaret Yoder peel potatoes. They talked about how nice the fall weather had been. Margaret said God blessed them with this beautiful weather for the barn raising.
Aunt Tootie helped Eli Mast's mother, Edna, unpack the crates containing the table settings. They chatted as if they had been life long friends. Hal smiled. Why not? The two elderly women are very much alike.
Silver haired Edna, with burnished skin from working outside all her life, was a complainer about everyone's imperfections and her own health. Hal learned long ago not to ask Edna how she was feeling. Not if she didn't want to listen to a vast list of the woman's ailments.
At the moment, Aunt Tootie was at the top of her element. She was in the middle of explaining to Edna about the skunk and how the smell almost choked her to death. Edna hung on to every word with a sympathetic look.
Jim, somewhere among the men, pounded nails and enjoyed every minute of it. Hal felt a deep gratitude to the Plain people for accepting her family among them while they vacationed with her.
Many of the dishes had been prepared ahead of time. The women decided what dish to bring so there would be plenty to eat.
Roseanna Nisely asked her daughter, Ella Miller, to squeeze lemons and prepare coolers full of lemonade to go with the meal. Other coolers held water and tea.
The toddlers had been taken to the house yard. They lay on blankets, taking a nap or sit quietly as they watch the men work. Katie Yost watched over them to keep them out of the way. On one quilt laid babies, napping.
Younger teenage boys took benches from the bench wagon and set up tables and benches in the hay field for the meal.
For the younger generation of boys and girls, this was a learning experience so they would know how to work at a barn raising when it was their turn to be in charge.
The operator ribbed up the crane and lifted the frame work for each side of the
barn while the men hammered the frames in place. Soon the frames of the barn were secured.
More than just a construction project, the beautiful fall day provided a community gathering. Families attended for fellowship as well as to help the Stolfus family. Hearing laughter and chatter around her reminded Hal of cheerful bird songs. However, the workers pounding nails and others making saws grate through wood added to her headache.
Homemade bread filled the air with a delicious aroma as young girls helped Aunt Tootie and Edna Mast set the table. Other women set bowls of food in the middle of the tables. A couple of young boys were sent to tell the first shift of hard working men it was time to stop for lunch. Those men took in the good smells as they brought their appetite to the table with them.
Chapter 9
Lunch was served in two shifts for the men and boys to accommodate work schedules. While some ate, others worked to keep the construction going. Admittedly, lunch took longer than planned, as people welcomed the chance to catch up on news.
While the men sat down for first lunch Rudy Briskey's booming voice told those nearest him at his table, “Have you heard my corn field was set on fire. I lost all my shocks.”
“Did you see anyone around?” Eli Mast asked.
“Nah, it was the noise of the frightened sheep and the dog that woke me up.”
“What did you do?” Cooner Jonas Rogies asked.
“I called the fire department. The firemen were able to put the fire out just before it entered my house yard. The whole field was destroyed,” Rudy lamented.
Bishop Bontrager said, “That is quite a loss. If you need winter feed, bring it up at the next worship service. The congregation will be glad to help out with hay offerings.”
Rudy held his hands palms out. “Denki, Bishop, but I can afford to use my hay to feed the stock cows. Others may need the aid more than I do if the fires keep happening.”
Bishop Bontrager nodded. “Did you know that John Lapp's barn was set on fire?”
“Nah, John, Nurse Hal and her parents were over at our house Thursday. He did not say anything,” Rudy declared.
