PADUTCH-LIFE-L Archives

From: "Vee L. Housman" <>
Subject: 14-The Church Fair
Date: Sun, 09 Aug 1998 14:10:54 -0400

THE CHURCH FAIR

I can't get this issue off my chest; I have to write about our
church fair. The whole neighborhood had a big time last week here
at the Mountain. Some crazy things happened at our fair. You
know for the longest time we'd had trouble with Pastor Mohler's
salary. The congregation just couldn't collect enough to support
him. Many parishioners said he was burned out. So far he's mixed
up his sermons three times, delivered a sermon, and immediately
afterwards started to deliver it again. The worst is, he has to read
with two fingers. If he tries to follow along with one finger, he
loses himself like the “children of Israel in the wilderness,” and like
them, it takes him forty years to find himself out of the forest.
Sometimes he preaches for an hour and a half, and when he finishes
not one blessed person will remember a word of his text.

Old, hard-working farmers, who are used to rising at four
o'clock every morning, sleep and snore so loudly that they make the
benches dance. The boys and girls throw sheep eyes at each other,
and the small children swing their legs under the benches, hang their
heads backwards and watch the wasps build mud nests on the
ceiling. They'd all like to get rid of the pastor, but he knows he has
a good thing going here. All I can say is that he does deliver a good
prayer, and he's the best handshaker at the Mountain.

Well, like I said, they're having trouble collecting his salary
and because of this, a church fair was held which I and Polly
attended. They had all kinds of games to make money. Fishpond,
weighing cakes (the closest guess wins), lottery tickets, and in fact
everything except poker games--since they're so hard down on card
playing. But that was not all. What most depended on to bring in
the money was the supper game. They hung up a sheet with a small
hole cut into it. The men stood behind the sheet and stuck their
noses through the hole. The woman who was first to guess to
whom the nose belonged got to have supper with its owner.
Everything went just fine until Mike Hetzel stepped behind the
curtain. He was the third contestant and a widower.

Mike is about the ugliest man living at the Mountain. He has
arms that hang down to his calves, a head like a calabash, a mouth
large as a wheelbarrow, feet like a camel, and hands like a manure
fork. Worst of all he has a wart on his nose as big as a hazelnut
with a dozen half-inch hairs growing out if it. When he first poked
his nose through the hole some of the women nearly fainted. On top
of that no one admitted to knowing who that thing belonged to,
since not one wanted to sit next to him at a supper table. Liars!
Damned! I never knew there were so many lying women living at
our Mountain--and all of them lying to help raise Pastor Mohler's
salary. Everyone knew that someone had to do something to
prevent a commotion from starting. The thing had really turned into
a mishmosh. Mrs. Bixler declared that she wouldn't have supper
with Mike Hetzel even if it meant breaking up with the church. Ann
Biffelmoyer said she'd rather come down with the crud, and each
woman declared her unwillingness to name Mike. Finally, Polly
stood up and declared, "In the name of God, it's . . . "

"Don’t you understand? . . . . " I said, and she sat right back
down. Finally, Mrs. Bixler said she suggested that we give up the
game, and each woman go to supper with her own husband. So we
all started off to supper, leaving Mike standing with his nose stuck
through the sheet--and I suppose he's still standing there--I know he
didn't join us for supper. We had a good supper with a large roasted
turkey, and they tasked me with carving it in the Pennsylvania
Dutch style. So I placed the turkey on my plate, cut off a leg for
myself, placed the turkey back on the serving tray, and said,

"Now help yourselves. That is the Pennsylvania Dutch way of
waiting on others at the dinner table."

After supper linecloths were thrown over the women so that
no man could recognize them. The men were then permitted to feel
the women for a quarter. Now, you can imagine how much this
helped to make up the shortfall in Pastor Mohler's salary. You
know that Sam Seeshuls is a widower. He hadn't given anything to
the church for eleven years, and during that game he made his
peace by blowing three dollars and a quarter. When my time came I
threw in my quarter and stepped up to do my “trick.” I had a nice
time because I thought I had Lissy Hulsopple, the prettiest girl on
the Mountain, so I squeezed and handled--all the time letting on as
if I didn't know who it was until those watching started laughing.
Soon I realized they knew what my game was, and when I took
down the linecloth it was, by heaven, Polly!

She just gave me one look, and ever since I've felt like the
whole experience was just a long illness.

Soon after the fair broke up and we went home, but the whole
neighborhood is still excited. The old maids who hadn't been
caressed for forty years want to have another fair, and the men have
their support. However, the married women are opposing it with
the weight of a thousand stone blocks. I wouldn't say why, but you
can imagine.

The next day was a busy one for our local doctors who were
having to dispense medicine for upset stomachs, the result of eating
too much ice cream and sweets "in the name of God," and all to
help raise enough money to support Pastor Mohler.

* * *

Note: This collection of Boonastiel stories was written by H. A.
Harter in the original Penna-Dutch dialect and were published in the
Keystone Gazette, Bellefonte, PA, between 1894 and 1904. They
were translated and transcribed by Bob James of Alaska and they
are being posted to this PADUTCH-LIFE mailing list with his
permission.

This thread:

• 14-The Church Fair by "Vee L. Housman" <>