Ducks, Cows, & Windmills - Amish Paradise

Monday Evening, October 24, 2005 – Mrs. English’s birthday

(16:51pm) It was 12:30 by the time they left. For a good while they drove in relative harmony. OLeif, Carrie, Joe, and Rose all had their music along and the two little ones had books and such. It was about two or so hours later that Dad barreled into a fuel station in the middle of nowhere, near the Missouri-Iowa border. While Dad fueled up the green slug, Mom and most of the kiddos dashed into the convenience mart for goodies. Everyone managed to secure at least one article of sustenance apiece before proceeding.

As Dad turned around to be sure everyone was buckled up, he wrinkled nose, “It smells like smoke in here!”

“Yup,” Linnea said matter-of-factly, opening her bag of Jolly Ranchers, “That’s me. Someone smoked on me.”

The van roared with laughter while Rose and Carrie commenced to argue over Rose’s bag of Reeses Pieces bites.

“Come on, Rose,” Carrie insisted. “Just a few. I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” Rose said, determined.

“No, really. I’ll let you keep my hat if I take too much.”

“Who wants your hat?”

Rose finally consented and passed up the bag. Carrie dumped half of it into her hat and Rose whined at her about it for awhile. But soon, they had crossed the border and they found themselves in old Amish country.

“I want 13 cows and 50 ducks some day,” Rose was saying, watching the passing cornfields and livestock.

“You know what the Amish flag looks like?” Frances asked Joe. “It has a piece of wheat and a blown-up computer on it.” He giggled.

But soon, over the gray skies and wind-blown fields, they saw the campsite and hurried on. At about 5:30 or so, they rolled through the entrance.

“A windmill!” Rose exclaimed, almost excited.

While Dad set up the trailer, the guys played football and Rose ran off to the nearby field across from “The Creamery” (a dinner theater in the middle of nowhere) and took pictures of the harvesters milling through the cornfield.

There were soon preparations underway to head into Amana, the once-Amish community. And while everyone freshened up (except for the boys, of course), everyone watched the second volume of “Tales from Avonlea.” And as the sun began to set a brilliant fire over the loping hills, they drove through Amana. There was a cheery atmosphere. Even though most of the shops were closed for the evening, there were crowds about walking in the chill air from the quaint inns and restaurants. The Ox Yoke – their destination – was packed. There was a fifteen minute wait or so, as the crowds mingled in the lobby and gift shop, as their reservations were for 7:00. Apparently it was not home-coming which had inspired the influx of crowds. Rather, a Hawkeye home game was taking place in Iowa City against the Michigan something-or-other the next afternoon, and everyone and his brother had come to town. College football, as Mom explained, was huge in Iowa. And so as a pack of Michigan fans wended their way to their table, one of them (emblazoned in a black and yellow Michigan jacket as the other members of his party), stopped to talk with OLeif, who was leafing through a booklet on the history of Amana. The cheerful fellow had also once lived in Missouri, had been raised in Florissant, actually.

But finally, their table was prepared and they followed their waitress to another full room, all quite hungry and ready to peruse the appetizing menu. After looking around, Frances and Linnea took the traditional macaroni and cheese. But everyone else went for the German fair, including the Old World platter for OLeif, a bratwurst sandwich for Collette, the traditional roast beef for Carrie, steaks and such for Mom, Dad, and the other kids, and bowls of seasoned cottage cheese, sliced potatoes, sour kraut, and fresh bread to pass around. A German supper in an old Amish village in the quiet cold and wind of Iowa farmland – what could be more satisfying?

“There’s no time for sin or vice, livin’ in an Amish Paradise.”

• Weird Al Yankovic