PADUTCH-LIFE-L Archives

From: "Vee L. Housman" <>
Subject: 65-Style Unbecoming
Date: Wed, 30 Sep 1998 18:30:09 -0400

STYLE UNBECOMING

I'm a common, everyday, go-as-you-please sort of a man, and
sometimes I feel completely lost in strange company. In fact I often
don't know how to handle myself. This was the case with me the
other day when I took some sprigs of mountain tea to Pastor
Mohler as a funeral donation.

While on the road to the pastor's, I was walking with the
pastor's son, and I noticed that whenever a lady passed us he tipped
his hat. Finally, I asked him why he was doing that, and he
explained that it was the style to tip one’s hat to a lady. I didn't
want lacking style, so I started to “tippa” my hat too, as he put it,
and I noticed that nearly every time I did it the girls laughed.

Finally we arrived at the pastor's house, and as we entered,
everyone stood up to greet me. Now, that isn't the Dutch way. We
keep sitting and say "how-de-do." Everything is becoming more
stylish. How often do I hear "yes, dear," "no,dear," "many thanks,"
just as if these same people never saw each other before in their
lives. I didn't feel at home with Pastor Mohler.

Presently, the pastor's wife sent for one of her daughters to
help prepare dinner. When the daughter stepped in my way she
said, "excuse me, Mr. Boonastiel." "Yes," I said, "but you weren't
in my way." The pastor's children laughed a bit over this, but no
one commented. Pastor Mohler seemed to be lost in thought and
when dinner was ready I took off my jacket to sit down at the table.
The Pastor never heard me say grace. He wanted to hear me say
grace when he visited us on butcher day, but I pushed it off on
Polly. They had little handkerchiefs sitting next to each place at the
table, and since I wanted to let them know that I knew what a
handkerchief was for, I picked one up and blew my nose.

Finally, we started to eat. I was tempted to watch them
closely to see how they ate. I always put food in my mouth with a
knife, but they used forks. Not wanting to appear to out of place, I
tried to imitate them by using my fork. Try as I would, a fork didn't
seem to get enough food into my mouth--and I was hungry. It
didn't take long for me to see that I was making a dog out of
myself, so I gave up on “style”and went back to using a knife.
After a few minutes of this everyone at the table just sat staring at
me like the house was burning, but I ate my fill, and that's saying a
lot.

When I arrived home that day I told Polly what I saw and
heard. She said I should be ashamed of myself--not taking my hat
off in the presence of women and eating soup with a fork. For a
careless old man like myself to keep up with the style is as bad as an
old farm goose trying to fly like snow geese.

I've come to the conclusion, a man shouldn't be ashamed to
acknowledge what he is. Even if a mule could change its hide,
anyone would instantly know it was a mule as soon as it began to
bray.

* * *

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.

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• 65-Style Unbecoming by "Vee L. Housman" <>