“Linda: Jon, I think getting to know this family has been good for you. I feel it when you write about them. I can feel your happiness in your writing.”

“Pamela: Jon, I am fascinated by your new neighbors. I look forward every day to learning something new about their lives. We should all follow their example and work as hard and hold family as close…the world would be a much better place. Thank you so much for sharing.”

The messages I’m getting lately are a lot sweeter than the ones I got when I wrote briefly about politics throughout the presidential election.

I’m surprised, and pleasantly so, by the generous and enthusiastic response I’ve gotten to my writing about Moise and his Amish family.

I do loving writing about them, and Linda and Pamela have gotten me to wonder why.

The interest in this writing is as deep or deeper as the response to my writing about the presidential election next year and much more positive.

I don’t get death threats every day or get called all those hateful names.

The response has been nourishing and very positive. I appreciate it.

That is a refreshing and much-needed change for me after 2020.

And perhaps also for others.

There is so much anger and suspicion between Americans who seem so contemptuous of people who are different.

Some people say it is refreshing to see me connect with a family that could hardly be more different from Maria and me.

But for me, I think the happiness you are sensing goes deeper than that.

Linda’s comment caught me off guard, and I thought about it all day. I know what she means – I love writing about Moise and his family, and that certainly makes me happy – but I don’t know that “happy” is the right word for it.

People sometimes forget that I am a professional writer, and it brings professional writers joy to write about interesting things that interesting people want to read about.

We are different from other people, just like the Amish are. We don’t always know why we are drawn to write about.

If I love what I am writing and you love what I am writing, yes, that makes me happy. So does praise.

I get plenty of criticism, but I am a simple human. Praise makes me happy.

One woman wrote to say I shouldn’t write about the family; it was invasive and made her feel creepy.

I replied by asking her what it was she thought I did for a living, plant potatoes? Finding interesting people and writing about them is what writers do, and yes, of course, it can be exploitive at times.

Beyond that,  I was most surprised to find that I had such a powerful connection to Moise and his children. I don’t know his wife Barbara as well yet; I hope to over time.

Writing about this family has been good for me.

It is a challenging story to tell. I intend to get it right.

I love having children around me and in my life, which has not been possible for a long time. My daughter and granddaughter live in Brooklyn, and while we love each other, we cannot be a regular part of each other’s lives.

The presence of these Amish children in my life is as remarkable as it was unsuspected. I am very fond of them, and we have connected with one another.

A couple of months later, I am now the children’s provider and guide for the books they are so eager to read.  This gives me a continuing role – but a very bounded one – with this family.

This was a hole in their lives. As an author, I could help to fill it.

Ironically, books have special importance in Amish families, as there is no TV, computer, Ipad or Iphone, no radio,  Facebook, games or Instagram.

Amish families are busy and frugal, and disciplined –  they rarely buy new things. The families believe deeply in God, and when they need something, they believe God will provide it.

The children needed books, and this strange neighbor appeared out of the mist to bring them books. This is accepted as the will of God.

It does get you thinking.

But this is 2021 in America, paranoia and mistrust are another pandemic,  and I am never alone with any of the girls and make sure their parents know precisely what I’m doing – what books, etc. Trust always takes some time to build, and it should. Both ways.

Moise also needs a neighbor and a friend in order to live his life and adhere to his beliefs. None of us can really live alone – it takes a village.

Moise needs people to make calls, guide him through a new environment, encourage his hard work and when necessary, be his emergency telephone and driver. And yes, to buy that lumber, those donuts, and pies.

He has also made it clear that if I ever need help, I should ask. I believe that is genuine.

I understand that the nature of the Arish culture is that close and continuous relationships occur within the family, not outside of it.

I know Moise, and I are very different, but we do share some powerful beliefs:

We both believe in the teachings of Christ when it comes to forgiveness and helping the poor and the vulnerable. The Amish are called to a life of simplicity, compassion, community, and family.

Lots of Christians talk the talk, but the Amish walk the walk.

Moise paid me the great compliment of telling me I was someone he could depend on, and he is not someone to flatter or manipulate anyone.

He says what he means.

I hope I have learned to do the same thing. We respect one another, rather than love one another in the nature of warm-blooded American friendships among men.

We are both doers.

When we set out to do it, we do it, and if we can’t do it, we try to do it again and again until we do it. We don’t have time for bullshit or small talk.

I think we both understand that the Amish and the “English” can’t be typical friends. We won’t hang out for no special reasons or spend a lot of time with each other.

Moise makes every minute of his life count, and jawboning with people to pass the time is not productive. All over my town, I see men chatting with one another idly.

I will never see an Amish person do that.

They don’t do that with outsiders, but they do have “Special Friends” and special relationships.

Moise is open and outgoing.  And proud of what he has done. He is eager to show me his work.

He had close friends with outsiders in his former community; the Amish sometimes seek “Special Friends.”

We won’t be hanging out in bars together, or watching sporting events, or going fishing, or yakking on the phone all night, or even for a minute

.

We will each occasionally talk about the progress Moise is making, the obstacles he faces, and solutions to the problems he encounters. He does not show his emotions to me, and I don’t show mine to him.

People who know the Amish say outsiders never get too close to them.

Yet Moise has taken the trouble to come to my house, look carefully through my blog and get to know in a way most people can’t or won’t. I have no expectations or illusions. We live in different worlds.

I do know a number of people who have developed close and very beautiful friendships with individual Amish people. There is no one single way to be Amish.

Many are different from one another.

I live in the now, and for now, the relationship has meaning to me. And yes, it does make me happy, if that’s the right word for it.

The first connection I made was to Moise’s sons and daughters. They are not like most of the other “English,” as the Amish call us, children that I meet.

When I first met five of Moise’s daughters at the family’s baked goods table (no shed then), they looked me in the eye, asked my name, and they asked me what I did, and I told them I was a neighbor and also a writer. They all lit up and told me how much they loved to read.

I meet “English” children all the time as bright as any child anywhere, yet many have not learned how to have a simple conversation with another human that takes place in person.

When I asked them what they were reading, the Amish girls said they had no books at the moment.  They said they would love to have more books.

One thing led to the other, and with Moise’s approval, I started bringing them books I had carefully chosen. Moise and Barbara loved the idea of my bringing books, and I chose the titles and subjects carefully.

The children are homeschooled and well-schooled; they read easily and well. Every time I went to the shed or their home, they were waiting for me, eager to talk about the books and gives me honest assessments of how they felt about them.

If they loved a particular author, they would ask if they could read more. For every book I brought, they offered me cash or a trade-in for food. I say no, I balk at the idea of taking money from children for books. I can’t do it.

I brought books for the boys in the family, they were also avid readers, and we went over books and titles.

My program has extended to three other Amish families, the girls, and boys of my neighbors.

I stop by whenever I see them out in the food stand and talk about the books they love, the books they didn’t love, and the books they would like to get.

Like the ancient vendor hauling sweets, they come running and yelling my name when I show up with my books. I love it. That sure makes me happy.

I’m getting good at it. Hardy Boys (Black Stallion) for the boys, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Amish romances and other women writers for the girls, picture books for young children.

I’m getting books now for Moise and Barbara as well; they have very little time to read. I just brought a bunch of Wendell Berry books to Moise; he’s reading the poetry first.

A week or so ago, Moise and Barbara stopped at our house.

They wanted to meet us, see our farm and farm animals, and ask me to be available to be called if anyone in their extended family, which covers many miles, dies suddenly.

I’m to take the call, write down the details, come up to their house and get them up no matter what I had to do, so they could make arrangements to get to the funeral, wherever it was.

It was a big deal and an honor to be chosen for that. We talked together for several hours, and two days later, Moise and I talked for three or four more.

But I’m not sure friendship can go much deeper than that. It’s pretty nice right where it is, and I don’t really need for it to go any further. My life is full of love and meaning.

I don’t quite understand the connection I have formed with Moise, but it has touched me.

My own minority sense of it is that Amish people are people, just like me, just like you. We all deal with sickness and death, quarrelsome families, children who need help.

I believe that is where friendships come from: when people discover they are not alone to feel things, we all human beings in human bodies with the same organs and idiosyncrasies.

Moise and I are very different.

I respect that his friendships and families within the country are the people closes to him and that I will always stand outside this enduring reality. I’m no sure he comprehends what a blogger is.

I respect his integrity, his energy, his tough and unrelenting sense of work.

He has transformed his property overnight into a thriving farm, lumberyard, and food market. I am happy to be telling his story.

Moise’s children are remarkable, a living and sobering testament to the value of growing up away from screens and social media. I hope I can watch them grow and find their favorite books and authors.

Moise is a person of deep and genuine faith, something I respect in a world of charlatans and hypocrites where rich TV pastors and pretend Christians talk of Jesus and compassion but have nothing in common with Jesus and show no compassion.

I think Moise is the real deal.

Such a friendship is naturally and profoundly bounded, we couldn’t get too close if we tried, and I don’t think either of us has a reason to do that or the time.

I think what really makes me happy, Linda, is the gift of knowing this fascinating family landing almost on my doorstep and drawing me into their lives.

I became a writer many years ago because I am fascinated by people and cultures that are different from me and mine. In America, sadly, many people fear and hate the “different” and the “other.”

I never have, probably because I am the “different” and the “other.” They make for the very best stories.

Writing about such people has always given me joy.

Mose and his family are a rich story. People know of them but know little about them.

I have been invited into their lives up a point to watch the way this family pulls its new life together, puts itself to hard work, and moves forward.

For me, this is a great adventure in writing and story-telling, the twin elements of my creative life (pictures too.) That might be what Pamela is wondering.

I can’t wait to find out.

This is my life,  what I have lived for the past half-century.

I’m just not sure that in the final analysis, it goes any deeper than that. But we’ll see.

Thanks for the question, though got my head spinning.