Amish Girls Gone Wild

Tina decided to stretch out her rumspringa for as long as she could. Since there is no cutoff age, she plans to join the church when she's either sick of partying or tired of being nagged by her parents. "I'm sure I'll be done with parties before I'm 30."

But these days, she expresses little interest in relationships and rarely dresses like a Yank -- unless she's going to a concert or an amusement park, where the ogling is infinitely worse.

Her interest in Yank ways, however, has expanded beyond keggers and midriffs. She'd like to go to college and become a nurse. She knows of one Amish woman who did just that, but when she finally joined the church, she gave it up. "I don't know if I could be a nurse and still be Amish," Tina says. "No one has done it."

Her life's path is based entirely on such precedents. She does things, she often says, because "that's just how it's done."

When asked why she doesn't leave the Amish -- what they refer to as "Yanking off" -- Tina shrugs. "Don't really see the point."

On a rainy winter evening, Tina sucks down Smirnoff Ice in an empty diner on the outskirts of Middlefield. She's joined by Locher and her friend June.

June is Tina's partner in crime -- a ruddy-cheeked 21-year-old with a devilish giggle. She is lapping everyone by at least two Buds, not including the one she spilled on Locher's lap. "You gotta watch out for this one," Locher says, pointing at June. "I'll put this girl up against pretty much any Yank I know."

June started her rumspringa when she was 17. "But I went to my first party at 15," she says, bursting into laughter.

She has already joined the church. But that hasn't kept her from closing down the bar on Saturday nights. She doesn't fear being shunned over a couple of Miller Lights. "It's really not as strict as people think," June says.

The women make clear that their church is not as puritanical as outsiders perceive. Tina's is simply a group of about 15 families who take turns hosting Sunday services -- a community of sustained tradition, uncluttered by modern conveniences. Their isolation has more to do with preserving the old ways than any real disdain for Yanks.

In Middlefield, there are dozens of these churches. Each has its own pastor and its own views. In June's church, it's up to each family to decide how to deal with disobedience.

Locher is one of the few Yanks who understand the subtle variances of their world. He dated an Amish girl -- a stunningly slender blonde from a family of eight children. She was sincere and grounded -- so different from the other girls Locher had dated.

She peaked his interest in the ways of the Amish. So Locher paid a visit to her pastor, hoping to sort out fact from fiction. "They're nothing like Amish in the City," Locher says. "Their focus is on family and helping each other out. Nothing else matters. I really respect that."

The pastor revealed that his oldest son had left the church to marry a Yank. He decided not to shun his son. His only rule is that his son must dress Amish when he comes to visit. "I realized they were a lot more open than many people perceive them to be," Locher says.

Though he stopped seeing the girl, Locher still toys with the idea of becoming Amish. "Sometimes it would be nice to get away from the city and live off the land," he says. "But I still have too many questions."

A few Yanks have joined the Amish, but it's rare. "It's so hard," Tina says. "You have to give up your radio. No TV. No car."

On the other hand, many Amish have left their communities, seduced by a Yankee soul mate or the chance to own a car. Some are shunned forever. Others return like prodigal sons. And there are those capable of navigating both worlds, like June's uncle, who left the Amish long ago. "I still love my uncle," she says. "He drives my dad to work almost every day."