Wired Mesh

Writings: Party til the Cows Come Home

My review of Tom Shachtman's book Rumspringa has been published in the latest edition of The Wilson Quarterly. I suppose this piece marks my national debut, such as it is, and I'm thrilled to be included among such august company. (Really, it's gratifying to be published anywhere: I wandered into a Barnes & Noble today, in search of the New Yorker's Christopher Hitchens profile, and couldn't suppress a grin upon spotting five copies of the new WQ issue waiting to be shelved.) Anyhow, the piece examines the unlikely Old Order Amish tradition of "running-around" time, a period of institutionalized apostasy meant to innoculate each new generation against the allure of the wider world. The results are as distinctive as you'd expect:

Consider a typical weekend party described in Rumspringa... While their elders sleep, hundreds of Amish teenagers travel back roads by buggy and the occasional recently purchased car, using cell phones pulled from beneath aprons to find the farm where festivities will be held. “A good party is when there’s, like, 200 kids there,” one reveler explains, “really loud music, and everybody’s drinking and smoking and having a great old time.” Couples wander into the dark pasture to hook up, while Amish drug dealers sell marijuana, cocaine, and crystal methamphetamine. The party ends when it’s time for the hosts to milk the cows.

But don't worry about them. They pretty much all grow unhappy and go home. The kids, I mean. The cows never left.