I remember little of this book, but -- when I unearthed it in a box from my parents' attic, my instinct was to squeal. I realized that I have hazy (partially repressed) memories of being ten years old, going to Lancaster County, and buying this book at a wood-paneled shop that sold mostly Shoo-Fly Pies and candies sticky with molasses. And this book.
Frankly, the cynic in me now thinks, who knows what bullshit neoliberal pioneering was espoused in my beloved Little House on the Prairie books and what colonialist purpose this book's narrative promoted! I get indignant and I get ornery. Whose lands were these first!
But, shamefully, I also remember being ten years old and thinking with stern vexation that I had been kept in the dark about this, "Oh my God, the prairie still exists?"
And, this younger, but equally, enterprising, scrappy, hustling version of myself was intrigued.
So, I don't know. Check it out, maybe? I will tell you that the opening page indicates that I am about to enjoy reading about: "Rosanna's first husking bee and singing;" "German preaching services and choosing ministers; "Amish weddings"..."and funerals," (there are actually no words omitted via that ellipsis, but we needed a sense of drama,);"Simple dress, hard work, and good food;" "Wrestling matches between farm boys," (...); "The Amish taking care of their own."
I think that says it all.