Rumspringa ’08

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Only four days. Four days until I am expected back at the Willow Road Homestead, back to Quarryville, back to Lancaster Country.

Back to Annie Lapp.

I guess I haven’t been very forthcoming. As soon as the harvest begins, Rumspringa ends. If I still feel a connection to the Amish I am to return, to be baptised and to be married. Annie too is on Rumspringa, but she is a simple soul. She never had any dreams, never any thought of what was outside her prairie house. Her Rumspringa is only a single flash of modernity in an otherwise ancient life. Mine has become so much more. Like Eddison turning on a light bulb, never to be dimmed, my experiences in Philadelphia have changed me.

But I am conflicted. There is so much here that I can not make piece with. There is so much here that haunts you. Like my Crystal Palace dream, i feel as if this could all come crashing down. In Quarryville i have a life, here, in Philadelphia, only a dream.

Rosenbach has asked me to work in their library full time. Yesterday Martha sat as I recited the first chapter of Paradise Lost to her – verbatim. She is a dear old soul.

You might not hear from me again.

I don’t think I can go.

I have worked at the library for 3 days now. Stood in the shadows of towering shelves, jammed with the classics. Packed with leather-bound pages of Tolstoy and Twaine. I’m payed in cash, the first thing I did was give Amos a week’s rent. With what was left over I bought clothes – jeans and t-shirts, and a pair of sneakers. It felt…liberating.

The library is quiet mostly. I pick any book and read. Hours go by and occasionally a person flitters in, like a moth amongst the whisperings. I feel so calm. I feel like I belong.

It looks more and more like my Rumspringa story is becoming my Philadelphia Story. I haven’t replied to Annie. What would I say?

     A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.

     It is too late. The evacuation still proceeds, but it’s all theatre. There are no lights inside the cars. No light anywhere. Above me lift girders old as an iron queen, and glass somewhere far above that would let the light of day through. But its night.

     I’m afraid of the way the glass will fall – soon – it will be a spectacle: the fall of the crystal palace. But coming down in total black out, without one glint of light, only great invisible crashing.

     So went last night’s sleep. Today is my first day at Rosenbach. Maybe I should look for a book of dreams.

    I still haven’t sent a reply to Anne. I’m afraid that if I do, it will be the last I ever hear of her.

     I got the job. The e-mail came just now. And since Amos is at work you’re the first I have told. Its strange, almost bitter-sweet to know that it is only for a short time. I haven’t told Martha. I couldn’t. She sees a “bright future” for me at the Library.

     This is the library. Its…quaint. I pulled this photo from Google. If I took a camera to Rosenbach this is not how I would capture it. I would go down, into the darkest, most perilous nook of the library, away from the ersatz interest of the public, and take a photo of any dusty old shelf. Any unloved book. Any sagging cobweb.

     This is what I am doing to while away the time. I have always loved to draw, but since my days have been spent mainly waiting for an e-mails I have not had the time. Today is different. The e-mail hasn’t come but I am determined not to waste my last few weeks in Philadelphia.

     “Philly’s like a guy, an old crotchety one who smokes, drinks and gambles…” So Amos has told me.

     So this is Mr. Philadelphia. I drew him this afternoon as the rainbow streamed across the skyline out my window, as if to disprove me.

     I still haven’t replied to Anne. I was supposed to marry her. And now….I don’t know.

     I was scouring my inbox for any word from Martha (is two days too soon to give up hope?) and clicked the ‘check mail’ button again, and this appeared -

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

For Samuel Stolzfus Beiler,

How are you Sam? I hope your Rumspringa has been kind and that your health engraciates you. I discovered your e-mail on wordpress.com, in a resume of yours. You have been missed in Quarryville, and Lancaster has been quiet in your absence. I have begun Rumspringa in the past week, albeit not as outlandishly as you. This is my first act of disobediance – writing an e-mail to you. None thought you would actually leave Lancaster for Philadelphia. Please make the right choice and come home soon. The wheat harvest has begun and weddings begin in November. I would dearly love to see you again.

Annie Lapp.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

     I haven’t replied yet. This complicates matters.

     No word from Martha at Rosenbach yet. But I was thinking, ever since my job hunt began, I haven’t had the time or the will to supply the online world with another of my famed “Depressingly Morose Blogs about the Evils of Modernity”.

     I think that may just be because I’m starting to like the modern world. Starting to appreciate the good and accept the bad for what t is – a necessary evil.

     So here is a short list of everything I love about Philadelphia and the world outside Lancaster County.

1. My brother.
2. Different clothes.
3. The music.
4. The newspaper.
5. A very small portion of the Internet.
6. Books (free from the taboo of my Grandfather’s attic).
7. The Library that frees the books.
8. An infinity of ideas. On the TV, scrawled on walls, in magazines. All around us.
9. No ploughs.
10. Electricity.
11. Colour.
12. Photos.
13. The smell of Sweet and Sour Pork.
14. The Cinema.
15. My Freedom.
16. My bed (no straw).
17. The cracks on the sidewalk.
18. The Comcast Centre.
19. WordPress.
20. The irrefutable feeling that you are not alone.

     My interview went a little something like this -

     “So Sam, can I call you Sam?”

     “You just did.”

     “Great! So what are your hobbies?”

     “Can I call you Martha?”

     “Of course!

     “I love to read.”

     ”Excuse me?”

     “My hobbies…”    

     “Oh yes! Of course. Great…”

     “Yes and, I’ve been going for walks lately.”

     “Uhuh.”

     “Oh and writing.”

     “Oh, you’re a writer!? How fantastic. What are you working on at the moment?”

     “A blog.”

     “Oh…”

     (And here’s where it really gets interesting).

     “Yes, see I’m actually Amish. I’m taking a few weeks off to see the world and I decided to document it.”

     “…”

     “For the people.”

     “…”

     The rest was pretty arbitary really. I think the truth has set me free, because Martha really took to the whole idea. I even gave her the link to my blog.

     Fingers crossed.

     I received an e-mail from Rosenbach today -

————————————————————————————-

Dear Mr. Beiler,

we have received your resume and would like to schedule an interview with you as soon as possible . Available interview times are as follows -

     24th of August- 2:00, 2:15 and 2:45.

     25th of August – 12:45.

     26th of August – 12:00, 12:15, 1:00, 1:15.

All interviews are conducted on Lvl. 5 of the Rosenbach Building -

2008 Delancey St
Philadelphia, PA 19103
(215) 732-1600
www.rosenbach.org

Thank you for your interest,

Martha Harrit.

————————————————————————————-    

     I have booked in for 2 o’clock tomorrow…

    Meanwhile, its a beautiful day in Philadelphia, and this is hopefully one of my last free days in the modern world. I’m getting out to enjoy it.