Oatis and Family "Life in Pennsylvania Dutch Country"

By Phil Moore

For young Amanda, leaving the luxuries of her urban Windy-City home for the farmhouses and outhouses of Pennsylvania’s Dutch country would be no easy task. To amplify her concerns, it has only been two years since her father’s death, and only months since her mother’s marriage to Stan.

Stan’s recent hire by a development company was the reason for the move to Springtown, a Podunk town with empty, dirt lanes—and a drastic contrast to the bustling city streets of Chicago, Illinois. Stan’s assignment is to build a new, modern, residential community here, despite resistance from the local residents.

This remote, rural community has no Internet access and no cell phone signal, so Amanda is cut off from social media and text messaging, and is now faced with an entirely new prospect for her teenage mind...

...interacting with new people and exploring her new world in person.

Surprised by the gift of a Corgi puppy she dubs Oatis—who is aptly named for his love of playing in neighboring fields of oats—Amanda sets out with her new canine Corgi companion on an adventure through Springtown and across the rural countryside. Soon, she will encounter the witty and wise, down-to-earth farmer named Ducky Huffnagle...

...and a cute, local boy named Jake.

From flea market swindlers to the despicable Woodruff boys, Amanda soon discovers that trouble still has a way of finding her. But, for Oatis, the new favorite citizen of Springtown, life has presented a whole new purpose—becoming the catalyst for change in Amanda’s strained relationship with her stepfather...

...and the springboard to rebuild and revive a divided Pennsylvania Dutch community.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brighton Publishing LLC
• Release date: Mar 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781621831983

Phil Moore

Phil Moore leads a thriving multivenue church in London, UK. He also serves as a translocal Bible Teacher within the Newfrontiers family of churches. After graduating from Cambridge University in History in 1995, Phil spent time on the mission field and then time in the business world. After four years of working twice through the Bible in the original languages, he has now delivered an accessible series of devotional commentaries that convey timeless truths in a fresh and contemporary manner.  More details at www.philmoorebooks.com

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157

Oatis and Family

Life in Pennsylvania Dutch Country

Phil Moore

Brighton Publishing LLC

435 N. Harris Drive

Mesa, AZ 85203

www.BrightonPublishing.com

ISBN13: 978-1-62183-198-3

Copyright © 2013

eBook

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Cover Design: Tom Rodriguez

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All the characters in this book are fictitious and the creation of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to other characters or to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my gratitude to the following, without whose assistance this book would have never been written:

My wife Miriam, for all of her support, ideas, suggestions, and knowledge regarding Pembroke Welsh Corgis.

Kathie McGuire of Brighton Publishing, for providing much-needed encouragement and expertise throughout the publishing process.

Tom Gerhart of the Pennsylvania German Society, for editing the Pennsylvania German language to ensure accuracy.

The Pennsylvania German Society for being such a great source of information regarding all aspects of Pennsylvania German life.

Jennie and Ducky, my grandparents, for instilling in us by example a touch of the Pennsylvania German way of life—work hard, be humble, and appreciate the simple things in life.

All of the wonderful dogs in my life thus far, both purebred and rescue, who were/are the inspiration for Oatis.

And finally, to my weird, Bohemian, and—at times, embarrassing—childhood family and our friends. Thanks for the memories.

Chapter One

Car Ride to Nowhere

Amanda sat in the backseat of the car, sulking. None of this makes any sense, she thought. Why should I be dragged halfway across the country and have to leave my friends and home?

It seemed like just a couple of weeks ago that she was escorted from her seventh grade English class to the principal’s office. When she arrived, she knew that something very bad had happened. Everyone in the room looked at her with sad, pitying eyes. Sally, her mother, was there with some semblance of a smile on her face, but her swollen, teary eyes and trembling hands were better indicators of her true feelings. Amanda went absolutely numb when her mother told her that her father passed away from an apparent heart attack. She couldn’t respond. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t move. Everything was hazy. Sounds were muted. And now here she was, riding in a car to nowhere with her mother and her mother’s new husband.

It was actually almost two years since her father had passed away, but it didn’t feel like it. Her mother’s whirlwind romance with Stan D’Amato, a complete stranger to Amanda, ended up in marriage about a year ago much to Amanda’s chagrin. And now this disruption in her life. It was just too much to endure.

Amanda had to admit begrudgingly that Stan was actually not a bad guy. He treated her mother well and made her happy, and he didn’t try to be a dad to Amanda. Even so, she refused to acknowledge him as her father and felt he was an intruder, wanting to take the place of her real father. She missed her real father and couldn’t understand how her mother could ever love someone else. And now Stan got transferred to Podunk USA to set up a planned community for a large development company, and was selfishly dragging Amanda and her mother with him. While Amanda fit in reasonably well with her schoolmates, she felt ill at ease among strangers or in strange setting. Now she was headed to a new environment filled with nothing but strangers and the potential for many awkward situations. Amanda sighed forlornly and stared out the car window.

After many hours on the highway, the car exited onto a four-lane road. As they continued, Amanda noticed that civilization as she knew it was giving way to farmland. The car bore to the right and continued on a small, winding, rural lane. It was now late afternoon and the sun was getting low on the horizon. They no longer passed stores or restaurants, or even gas stations. There was nothing but farmland, farmhouses, and barns as far as the eye could see. Because she had spent her whole life in a big city, Amanda didn’t like the direction this was going.

Are we lost, I hope? asked Amanda.

Nope! replied Stan cheerfully. I told you two that Springtown was a beautiful place!

My, my, my, my, my! exclaimed Sally, who turned to her and gave her a quick wink.

Amanda couldn’t tell if her mother was excited about the new surroundings or was just playing along with Selfish Stan. Amanda smiled, feeling somewhat proud of herself for coming up with such an appropriate nickname for her stepfather.

We’re here! Stan hollered, still quite excited about this new adventure.

I hope you’re kidding, Amanda scoffed.

Her mother shot her a disapproving glance.

The car slowed down in front of a small, one-room, brick Mennonite church. Next to the church, under a large oak tree, was an old, unpainted, but well-maintained, wooden outhouse. Painted on one side of the outhouse was a stick figure of a woman, and on the other side was a stick figure of a man.

This just keeps getting better, murmured Amanda sarcastically.

Stan turned the car onto a very narrow dirt lane directly across from the church.

Amanda started humming, Dueling Banjos, the song from the movie Deliverance that she had watched on TV with her mother and real father during one of their weekly movie nights. They continued on the rutted, dusty lane for about two hundred yards, and then turned left onto an overgrown path. Stan stopped the car and said, This is it! So what do you think?

Oh… was all Amanda’s mother could muster as they exited the car.

Amanda was speechless.

On their left was a small, weathered, barn-like structure with the boards warped and falling off.

That’s the carriage house, explained Stan. She’s as old as the hills, with hand-hewn logs and roof beams. Nice fieldstone foundation, too! She looks a little rough, but the bones are good on ’er.

Care to try that again in English? asked Amanda. Her comment was again met with a disapproving look from her mother. Sally didn’t approve of the way Amanda sometimes acted, but she realized that Amanda has been through a lot in the last two years, so she allowed Amanda a little leeway in voicing her opinions

Over here we have the outhouse, continued Stan.

Both Amanda and her mother looked at each other in horror.

No, no, it’s not what you think. There’s hot and cold running water in the house, and a bathroom, explained Stan.

A bathroom? Amanda and her mother asked in unison.

Stan ignored the one-bathroom-house comment and continued, And over here is the chicken coop. It just needs some new chicken wire and we can have fresh eggs every day!

Wouldn’t that also require some chickens? asked Amanda, still in her sarcastic mood.

Even her mother had to smile at the comment.

Stan’s enthusiasm seemed to wane a bit, sensing that the two girls in his life were perhaps not as enthused about the new home as he was.

Somewhat daunted, he continued, Over here is the grapevine. It’s over one hundred years old and produces incredible concord grapes. They aren’t much for eating, but they make great jams and grape juice. We can harvest the grapes and make and can all the juice and jam we need for the year. And these two sour cherry trees will give us all the fruit we need for cherry pies and desserts.

Amanda’s mother was a career woman whose only culinary claim to fame was microwave popcorn. She started to laugh and shook her head saying, Holy cannoli.

And down this little hill here to the left is the washhouse. It used to be used for washing clothes, Stan added.

Amanda stared at the faded-red, wooden building. There was a huge chain connecting the crooked, two-story washhouse to a large, gnarled, black cherry tree.

While she was trying to determine if the tree was holding up the washhouse or the washhouse was holding up the tree, she heard her mother ask Stan, So where is the actual hou—? Oh no.

Amanda turned in the direction her mother was facing, gasped, and started laughing. There was the house, such as it was.

Coming from a large, modern, luxurious condominium in Chicago made Amanda and her mother all the less prepared for what they were staring at. There, among the tall weeds, was a small, ugly, run-down building Stan called a house. The roof appeared to be a sagging mess of tar paper that was painted silver. A few bricks were missing from the chimney. From the front, a couple of broken steps led to a screened-in porch with rusty screens. The house was built into a hill, so from the front, the house looked like it had one story; but from the back, it appeared to be a two-story house. The foundation wall was very small at the front of the house, but over six feet tall at the back. It was made of fieldstone, and was also painted silver to match the roof. The part of the house between the foundation and the roof was covered in shabby-green asphalt shingles.

Amanda’s mother took her hand, led her to the front of the house, and said, Well, let’s just have a look at the interior, shall we? You can’t judge a book by its cover, you know.

Amanda stumbled up the broken steps with her mother and stopped to study the porch. Um, yes you can, muttered Amanda. The porch was large, but the floors and ceiling were adorned with peeling paint, and at least a third of the boards were broken, warped, or missing.

Amanda’s mother’s eyes got just a little larger, and she alternated between a soft laugh and whispering, Oh dear me. Oh dear me.

Amanda sensed her mother’s discomfort and tried to lighten the mood, stating, Hey, at least we’re not in the actual house yet. How bad can that be?

Amanda opened the door to the house and they both stepped in. The first room was small with a low beadboard ceiling and a sheet of dirty linoleum on the floor, with all four corners curling up. Presumably this was the living room. The room through the doorway on the right was identical to the first room, and was probably the bedroom. That appeared to be the entire house.

Well, did you enjoy the tour? asked Amanda’s mother.

They both started laughing until Amanda suddenly stopped and asked, Wait a minute, where’s my bedroom?

They looked at each other for a second, her mother yelled, Stan!

Stan shouted, Down here, Sally!

Amanda and her mother walked down the steep, narrow staircase to the lower floor. There they found another low beadboard ceiling with missing boards, and more dirty, worn-linoleum flooring. It was obvious that, originally, this was just a small, one-room kitchen and dining room, but a makeshift room was added in the far right corner of the room. Amanda opened the door to the new room only to discover that it was a small bathroom consisting of a toilet, sink, and a claw-foot tub, with exposed water pipes everywhere.

Better than the outhouse, eh? asked Stan.

That’s putting the old positive spin on things, grumbled Amanda cynically.

Stan, I can perhaps tolerate all that’s wrong about this place, but where is Amanda going to sleep? Even if by some miracle and a boatload of money we fix this place up so that it’s habitable, it will still be a one bedroom house.

Well, said Stan, it’s summer, and the summer evenings are cool here, so Amanda can sleep on the porch—or even in a tent if she wishes—until we get the third floor turned into a bedroom.

Third floor? both Amanda and her mother said in unison.

I wish you guys would quit doing that. It’s getting kind of creepy, Stan told them. Yes, a third floor. Look on the opposite side of the wall from where you came down these stairs. There’s a small doorway leading to the attic.

Amanda accompanied her mother back up the stairs. They had to close the front door which, when open, blocked the doorway to the attic. They ascended the wooden, spiral staircase and discovered the best room. The floor was made of large, wooden planks, and the ceiling was also made of wooden planks supported by hand-cut logs. It was as long as the house itself—which wasn’t saying much—and the sloping roofline reduced some useable space along the sides of the room. Still, it was a decent-sized room. A window at the far end looked down on the pine trees at the side of the house, and on a farmhouse about five hundred yards away.

Amanda’s mom put her arm around her and said, You know, all of this has been hard on you, so just to be fair, we’ll swap rooms with you. You can have the room downstairs…

Nice try, Mom, interrupted Amanda, but I believe that you’re standing in my bedroom.

They laughed, gave each other a hug, and went down to the first floor to talk things over with Stan. Amanda seemed to be in surprisingly good spirits.

Okay Stan, explain yourself, demanded Amanda’s mom. I know you’re not this stupid. You’ve got college degrees from accredited institutions. You’re some kind of hotshot developer. There has got to be more to this house than… this house. What are you thinking?

"I absolutely love this house, Amanda chimed in. It’s perfect!"

It is? responded Stan and Sally in unison. They looked at each other, surprised that now even they were saying things in unison.

Must be catching, muttered Stan to no one in particular.

My poor, dear child, her mom cajoled, putting her arm around Amanda and touching her forehead, you must have a fever. Perhaps you’re allergic to fresh air.

Nope, chirped Amanda happily, this place is perfect because it’s so hideous and nasty and unlivable, that surely Mom and I will have to go back to civilization and continue our lives at least until… you… he… makes it right. Amanda still struggled with exactly what to call Stan.

Well, disregarding that rather awkward last part, Amanda does have a point. Stan, a rebuttal? Amanda’s mother asked.

Okay, started Stan, "here goes. As you know, I had less than two weeks to take either this job or find employment elsewhere. The way the economy is going, starting over at a new firm would be risky. Sally, you had a high-paying position as a CPA and lawyer at a prestigious law firm, but we both decided that you were the more marketable of the two of us. You’d be able to find employment much easier, especially once people and businesses started moving into the new community.

So you took care of the business of selling both of our condos and handling all of the business aspects of moving to a new state. Then I was left with starting a new planned community and with finding us temporary housing to live in until our future plans became more solid. I wanted a place that didn’t cost much and that we could possibly make a profit on when we sold it."

But why this place? Certainly there are better locations and houses in better shape, Sally observed.

Stan continued, Actually this may be the best location around. Do you remember the small valley we drove through, just about a quarter of a mile away from here? That’s where we’re planning to dam up the creek flowing through it to create a recreational lake. That’ll make this prime real estate.

If no one knows about the lake but you, and you buy land that you know will be much more valuable once the lake goes in, isn’t that unethical? asked Amanda.

Sally replied, No, not really, assuming that the lake isn’t a sure thing. I’m sure that property will have to be bought, permits obtained, et cetera. This is probably a gamble on Stan’s part.

Exactly, Stan affirmed. "The lake is by no means a done deal, and is actually phase three of the development. It could never happen, or it could take several years to make happen. In the meantime, I got a fair price for this house and seven acres. If people knew of the proposal for