1
May 3, 1780,
Rosenort, Gross Marienburger Werder, West Prussia
Peter couldn't get her
out of his mind. He had been minding his own business when he first saw her.
She was the most beautiful, vivacious young woman that he had ever laid eyes
on. The only problem… she was "fe'beede," forbidden, because she
wasn't Mennonite. It wasn't that the girls in his local village weren't pretty.
They were just plain. They lived ordinary lives, cooked ordinary meals,
finished primary school, grew up to marry ordinary boys and then raised ordinary
families on the farm.
Peter longed for
something more than ordinary. His thoughts continued to ramble. I have to
find a way to see her again. Why haven't I noticed her before? What is she
like? Will she like me? What will father say when he finds out I'm interested
in her? He continued along this track until he succumbed to sleep…,
finally.
Morning came too soon
for Peter. He hadn't slept well. He had a busy day ahead with all the last
minute chores around the family farm in preparation for the Sabbath, Sunday
that is. He knew there was much to do to finish up the repairs, cleaning, and
provisioning before the end of the day. Peter could already hear his father
calling. It wasn't like it was that late; after all, the sun was barely rising
but the house was already busy with the noise of a new day.
Yes, his father, Jakob
Hoeppner, was always the first out of bed, checking on the cattle, preparing
the feed for the livestock, checking off what had to be done today. His life
consisted of a routine, guidelines, and rules. His life was, well…just ordinary.
His father took great
pride in having a fine herd of cows. The Germans referred to the Mennonite cows
as "the best milk cows in all of the German speaking territories, producing
fifty percent more milk than the cows owned by their Polish neighbors. The cows
needed to be cared for.
Peter knew he had to get
up and get to work before getting in trouble with his father but his body felt
like a sack of wheat. He groaned inwardly at the prospect of working in the
field all day and then coming home to do the evening chores after that. Just
the thought of the unrelenting farm chores made his body ache with boredom, his
mind numbed by the relentless repetition. Three hundred years of dignified
farming and I have to do it again today.
After breakfast he shuffled
out to the barn, kicking at the straw in the pathway. He wondered how
the horses felt after a long day of plowing. Just then his father
entered, interrupting his thoughts. Jakob, dressed in the black home-spun
clothing typical of the Mennonites, was a picture of both the strength required
of a farmer and the weathered face that came with the years of toil in the sun,
rain, and foul weather.
"Peter, you're
late. We've barely finished planting half of the south field and we should have
finished two weeks ago. Having a good year depends on getting the seed in the
ground on time," he stated as he stopped to catch his breath.
After hitching up the
horses he paused, absentmindedly stroking the horse's mane. His thoughts were
far from the field. The Mennonite way of life is a dignified life of hard
work, self-sufficiency, and remarkable endurance. I will work even
harder today and perhaps then I will earn father's approval.
He finally headed out
to the section of the farm that was high enough in elevation to grow wheat
successfully. The lower half of their farm was below the water table so it was
too wet most of the year to use for anything but growing feed for the cows.
They were fortunate. Many families didn't have land that would support grain
crops.
The day stretched on in
a seemingly endless test of endurance. It felt like the field grew longer and
wider with each pass. If only I could think of something to help the
Mennonite farmers have a better life. Maybe then father would approve of me.
By the time he returned
to the field in the afternoon it was all he could do to shuffle along behind
the horses. Peter worked the field, turning the soil, row after row. His mind
drifted to the girl he had seen in town last week. What was she like? Did
she have brothers and sisters? Was her father stern and harsh or kind and
pleasant?
While he pondered these
questions the horses strayed off course. Fortunately, when he reached the end
of the field and realized the error, his father wasn't nearby. Peter hurried to
redo the last row before Jakob came out and saw what he had done. He pushed the
horses faster to plow the next several rows as quickly as possible, hoping he
could cover up the evidence of his failure. He shook his head vigorously, trying
to overcome the weariness, hoping to overcome the fatigue of his job.
The afternoon sun beat
down on Peter. It seemed today was hotter than any he could remember this early
in May. Or was it his imagination? The horses didn't seem to mind the heat. The
end of the day couldn't come soon enough for him. When the sun had finally dropped
far enough on the horizon Peter turned the horses for home. He was pretty sure
they walked faster on the way back to the barn. The horses were probably as eager
for the day to be over with as he was.
Peter volunteered to
help with some of the Saturday night chores just to occupy his mind and body.
The day couldn't end soon enough. When it seemed appropriate to depart, he left
to go for a walk along the Kanal, alone with his thoughts. Peter pulled up the
memory of her face and how she had smiled when she answered his questions.
Could there be a more angelic face in all the earth? He imagined himself
walking along the Kanal right now holding her hand and carrying on an aimless
conversation, just soaking up the sheer joy of her presence.
He was so caught up in his
fantasy that he didn't notice how close he had gotten to the dirt edge of the
Kanal. Without warning his left foot slipped, throwing him off balance just
enough to bring his entire body tumbling toward the slow moving water. He
struggled at the very last second to shift his weight to the other foot. The
other foot, instead of helping save him, pushed him further off balance. The
next thing he saw was water rushing up at his face and then the cool, muddy,
slow current of the Kanal soothing his weary body.
He thrashed at the
water, kicking with his feet, but it was too late. How was he going to explain
this to father? Mother would for certain notice the muddy odor of the Kanal
water on his clothes when she washed them. He felt humiliated. His mind
scrambled to come up with an explanation for the Kanal smell on his clothes but
he was utterly unsuccessful at dredging up a story that would satisfy any sane
person. He tried to rinse the clothes before going to bed and hoped no one
noticed the clothes drying in the barn. In the morning he would get up earlier
than usual and hope to get there before Jakob did.
Sabbath morning dawned
with a beautiful clear sky. Peter woke up, startled, as he realized what day it
was. He scrambled to get dressed and headed for the barn to recover the
clothes. When he got there, he paused for a moment, listening to see if his father
had gotten there first. Assured that he was the first to rise, he hastily
bundled the clothes together and took them back to his room to stow until wash
day.
After washing up he headed
for the kitchen, trying to act nonchalant. "Good morning, mother," he
offered to his stepmother. "Aren't you glad spring is here again? It looks
like we'll have a beautiful day!"
Pausing, she looked up
at him curiously, "Yes, I'm glad winter is over." She gave him a
furtive glance, wondering what made him so cheerful at such an early hour.
Trying to cover for
being so out of character, fearing she would begin asking questions, he added, "I'm
looking forward to seeing Thomas at the meetinghouse for Sabbath service. We're
going to spend the afternoon fishing."
The service at the
meetinghouse lasted the usual two hours. Elder Penner was in unusually good
spirits after his most recent circuit to the communities south of Rosenort. He
preached up a sermon that made all but the most inattentive take notice. Peter,
meanwhile, was struggling to stay awake. It sure seemed the balcony was
unusually hot for this early in the year.
By the time the meeting
was over Peter could hardly contain his impatience. He rushed through the noon
meal, anxious to get out of the house and down to Thomas' house. Departing he turned
left, headed for Thomas' house. His eye scanned the line of houses ahead of him.
For the most part they were all identical. Each house, constructed of wood
boards, had the barn attached to one end of the house. This freed up more of
the land for crops. His eye quickly scanned ahead to the house where Thomas lived.
Thomas was already waiting
for him. They always enjoyed the long walks together following the Kanal until
they ran out of things to say and headed back again. Even when they were
growing up they had enjoyed these walks, seeing who could skip a rock the
furthest on the Kanal water, sometimes bringing along a sling shot to practice
hitting a target, or just talking over the most important issues that bother young
boys.
"Thomas, I appreciate
the sense of belonging in our community… I just don't enjoy the repetitive
nature of the farm work each day. I love horses. I want to work with horses,
breeding them. I would like to develop a horse with more stamina than the ones we
use for farm work. Just think how many Mennonite farmers would benefit from a horse
with more strength and stamina."
Peter paused to pick up
a flat, weather-worn pebble and send it skipping across the surface of the
Kanal. "I would have the largest stables in the land and the best
stallions within five days journey. People would come from far and wide to
consult with me and to hire me to breed my stallion with their choice mare."
His voice was more subdued as he continued, "Maybe then my father would approve
of me and say to me, ‘Well done, son.'"
Thomas was deep in
thought as they followed the winding path. He wanted to respond but could not
find the words. Why is Peter always so restless? He was deep in thought
when suddenly, Peter grabbed Thomas' shoulder.
"Thomas, I haven't
had time to tell you what happened this past week. I was rounding the corner by
the blacksmith when I spotted the Jankowski daughter coming from the dry goods
store. She's incredible… and has the most gorgeous eyes! I stopped to ask her about
some items my mother wanted me to pick up, just to get a chance to talk with
her.
I can hardly sleep at
night just remembering the beauty of her eyes and facial expressions as she was
talking to me. I want to find out more about her. Do you think you could help
me out and ask about her when you go into town this week? You know, ask around
without raising any eyebrows? I'm afraid to ask but I want to know more about
her."
Thomas was caught off
guard. This was one topic he hadn't expected to hear from Peter. He scrambled
to think of how to respond. He began hesitatingly, "…if she lives in town
is there any reason to believe she's a Mennonite?"
Thomas looked
quizzically at Peter as if looking for the answer in his face. "Seems to
me it's very unlikely she is a Mennonite. Aren't you playing a risky game,
Peter? What if Elder Penner found out that you were interested in a girl from
outside of our community, our Gemeinde?" Thomas voice went up a
notch in pitch with the thought of what Elder Penner would say. "Do you
remember what happened over the Anna Steffen affair three years ago?" Thomas
felt a shiver run through his body at the thought.
Peter felt himself
tensing up as he considered what Thomas had said. Just as I figured: Thomas,
the cautious one. He's never one to step out of line. I shouldn't have brought
it up.' He inhaled a long, deep breath to calm himself down.
"Yeah, I remember
the incident. She ran off with the help of some nuns from Tiegenhagen and married
a boy from Culm. The bishop stopped work on our new church buildings after he
got into a spat with Elder Penner over the matter. Elder Penner was fit to be
tied."
Thomas was starting to
get on Peter's nerves. He stopped and squared off, looking Thomas directly in
the eyes. "Thomas…" He paused to make sure he had his full attention.
"I don't need you telling me everything that you think could go wrong! I
just want your help finding out more information about her. What's the harm in
that?"
Thomas looked away at
the meandering of the Kanal wishing he was at home taking a long, good nap,
anywhere but here. He shifted from one foot to the other, as if to ignore Peter
and head home but he made no move.
Peter persisted. "She
works at the Hakenbuedner, the dry goods store. You know, near the trail that
enters on the south side of town? See what you can find out for me. Will you
help me?" He looked Thomas in the eye, holding his gaze there until Thomas
responded.
Thomas flung a stone in
the Kanal, with no particular aim. "I guess I can ask around. I just have
a bad feeling about this. I don't want to see you get hurt. I mean, we've been
friends for as long as I can remember and I hate the thought of you getting in
trouble." Thomas kicked another pebble into the Kanal, as if to make a
point. Some days Peter could really act crazy. Once he got an idea in his head
it was just about impossible to reason with him.
He remembered the time
they had been walking along the Kanal and Peter decided he could hit Johann
Quiring's barn with the sling shot. Thomas had tried to talk him out of it.
Peter just kept insisting. When he finally took his shot, yep, he was right! He
hit the barn alright. Boy, did he have some explaining to do after Herr Quiring
came storming out of his house. Thomas could still hear the row that ensued.
Peter rubbed his
temples, trying to push the rising pain out of his head. "Elder Penner knows
every rule and, Lord knows, there are hundreds! Elder Penner is enough to drive
an honest man to drink. I don't have a problem with following the rules we are
taught but they have to make sense, not just exist for the sake of having
rules. What's the harm in liking a beautiful girl?" he protested. Peter's
face hardened slightly as he looked at Thomas.
Thomas' face turned a
shade paler, hearing his friend talk this way. Thomas looked around
half-expecting someone to overhear the conversation. It was a good thing they
were well out of earshot of the community.
Peter turned to Thomas,
"Don't you ever wish you could just leave town and start a new life? A
life where you didn't have people looking over your shoulder always trying to
make you fit in their mold...."
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