One Light Still Shines: My Life Beyond the Shadow of the Amish Schoolhouse Shooting by Marie Monville Read Free Book Online Page B

over the fence.
    Vicki and I looked at each other. “It’s your turn to get the ball, Marie,” Vicki said. “Ken got the last one.”
    “I know that, Vicki,” I said, not appreciating my little sister telling me what to do. I trotted toward the fence.
    “I already touched the wire, Marie,” Ken called. “Didn’t shock me. It’s off.”
    “Okay,” I said, mildly surprised that my older brother was giving me a helpful tip. Yet at the fence, I hesitated.
    “What’s the matter — you scared?” Ken chided. “I told you, it’s off. Go ahead and grab it. You’ll see.”
    I grabbed the wire.
    I screamed as a shock I will never forget jolted me backward. I’m not sure which hurt worse — the electric shock or the fact that my brother had set me up for pain.
    “Kenny!” I cried. “How could you! I trusted you!”
    But Ken was unrepentant. He probably couldn’t even hear me over his laughter, which hurt me even more. I stomped away, unwilling to play any more with him that day. True to the pattern of sibling skirmishes, he enjoyed his trick — until my mom found out what had happened. Then he wasn’t smiling.
    My brother worked for the Esh family on several occasions, baling hay and harvesting corn. He would come home dirty and sweaty (which I didn’t envy) but told of delicious lunches he had enjoyed at their table. I felt a little envious as he described meals that sounded better than any restaurant I’d ever been to. And — wonder of all childhood wonders — they even ate dessert at lunchtime!
    Unlike our Amish neighbors, my siblings and I didn’t spendmost of our time on chores. Aside from our family garden and Saturday morning housecleaning, we spent much of our time playing. Lots of happy memories were made in Georgetown: fishing with my brother in the stream running through a neighbor’s farm (never catching anything but enjoying the adventure), sledding down the Esh field in the winter with my siblings and cousins, roller skating on Furnace Road just down the road from our house, stopping at the bridge to look for fish or ducks in the water below. These moments, while never seeming significant at the time, became a treasure-house of times spent surrounded by subtle beauty.
    From spring through summer, the landscape is dotted with roadside stands where Amish families sell the bounty of their harvest: juicy ripe strawberries freshly plucked an hour before, potatoes glistening with the remnants of rich soil, and a still life of crisp and colorful vegetables that could be transformed into a salad no one could refuse — a delight to the eye and tongue. I loved the taste of homemade root beer occasionally available at these roadside stands, far more delicious than conventional sodas, and refreshing on a hot summer afternoon.
    But our family’s farm-stand favorite was (and is to this day) sweet corn! Sold by the baker’s dozen (always thirteen ears, a trademark of this generous culture) and picked within a few hours of being placed on display. As you run your fingers along ribbed husks and fluffy tassels to make your selections, the ears are sometimes still dewy to the touch. And once the corn is boiled, just one bite reveals a milky sweetness that doesn’t compare to the corn sold in supermarkets. As a child I even enjoyed husking corn, a chore that turned competitive as I raced my siblings to see who could finish pulling the silk and husk off the most ears.
    There were (and still are) two Amish stores in Georgetown. Village Dry Goods sells fabric, books, housewares, hardware, and candy. Visiting was always a pleasure as I was growing up, whether I went to browse, to spend ten cents’ worth of hard-earned allowance on gummy fish, or to buy small gifts for my family. The second, King Grocery, is stocked with grocery and bulk items. Consider this: you can buy sugar and flour in 25, 50, and 100-pound sacks, cornmeal, meats and cheeses, herbs and spices, as well as produce fresh from their garden