Amish parody
For an area with such a singular focus, the Ohio Amish country sure is a confusing place.
My girlfriend and I recently took a day trip into Millersburg and the surrounding Amish community, allowing us to careen farther into a premature middle age.
We had fun. There is any number of cheese and meat shops, restaurants and gift shops to occupy your time. It’s novel to drive down country roads, passing horses, buggies and Amish women riding their bikes to and from home.
The more time I spent there, however, something began bothering me. It really stuck out that Amish country is a place in conflict with itself. Or at least Amish areas that double as tourist destinations are.
I’m not a religious person, but Amish society has always had something admirable to me. They keep to themselves and shun modern conveniences. They wear plain clothing and eat, as far as I can tell, flavorless food. It’s backwards to me, sure, but at least they stick to their guns.
Going to Millersburg, though, showed me something different. It’s a paradox of sorts. One large gift shop I went through, which sold electric wax warmers, had more eyes on smartphones than I’ve seen in a while. The small, picturesque villages we went through had as many young, hip couples as I’ve ever seen in the Short North in Columbus.
Now, I’m not trying to shame people who use current technology. It’s just odd seeing all of this while visiting an area predicated on the lack of such modern amenities.
It felt like there were two distinct sects of Amish and Mennonites: One was a front-facing group of Amish adherents who run shops and mingle with tourists. The other seemed more behind the scenes. You might occasionally drive past one, or see one working in the field as you go by.
It almost felt like Disney World. The more visible Amish folk seemed as if they were performing a part, like someone playing Mickey Mouse or Goofy. I’d always thought the Amish lifestyle was centered on an isolated community. These people came to Millersburg to live out their lives peacefully, and now they’re swamped with tourists from the outside world, treating their culture like a resort.
What’s even stranger to me is how the Amish have adapted. There are shops and services operated by people in traditional Amish garb. It makes me wonder if the people I saw working in those shops are actually Amish, or just people cashing in on the quaint style of the Pennsylvania Dutch.
Again, it was a fun time. I’d go again, but this time I’d know what to expect: A place where two extremes are fighting and, in some cases, profiting off of each other.
-Will Channell is a reporter for the Journal-Tribune