{"id":13006,"date":"2014-11-21T17:31:53","date_gmt":"2014-11-21T22:31:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/?p=13006"},"modified":"2014-11-21T17:37:42","modified_gmt":"2014-11-21T22:37:42","slug":"the-deacon-sketch-17","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/?p=13006","title":{"rendered":"The Deacon (Sketch #17)"},"content":{"rendered":"

photo-2-small.JPG<\/a><\/p>\n

And forever the river runs, deep as the tides
\nof time and memory, deep as the tides of sleep,
\nthe river runs…<\/p>\n

Thomas Wolfe
\n_____________<\/p>\n

It\u2019s been one of those weeks, when nothing was coming, writing-wise. And by Wednesday, I was pretty resigned. There would be no blog post this Friday. I can\u2019t force this stuff, and I won\u2019t. So if nothing comes, nothing gets written. Then, that afternoon, my iPhone pinged. A text message. I was on the office phone with a customer. A few minutes later, I hung up. Then I looked at the message that had come. It was from my sister, Rachel. One line. Stephen Stoll died this morning. And right there, it all slid right in, the tale to tell. <\/p>\n

Stephen Stoll. A dark man, a dark legend in my childhood world in Aylmer. He was the deacon, the enforcer of the rules. Many a strong man paled and trembled when he came knocking on the door. He wasn\u2019t there to socialize, usually. And he wasn\u2019t all that good at small talk. He was real good, though, at carrying out the job he was ordained for. Keeping people in line, making sure the church \u201cOrdnung\u201d was enforced. <\/p>\n

I can\u2019t remember seeing him ordained, although I probably did. I was just too young, to grasp what I was seeing. He\u2019s among my earliest memories of church, though. Getting up between the sermons to do his job, read the Scripture of the day. He was kind of clean-cut back then, as I recall. As a real young child, I liked the man. He seemed pretty nice, to me. <\/p>\n

I suppose it took him a few years, to reach his stride. And then, in the early 1970s, he moved with his father, Peter Stoll. All the way down to Honduras, to convert the natives. I was always kind of fascinated, that Stephen went. I guess he had that Stoll heart of his father, deep down. He wanted to spread the gospel to those who were lost. That\u2019s why Peter went, that was his vision. And Stephen and his brother Joe and their families moved with their father. <\/p>\n

He was out of my life, for a few years, then. But the Honduras venture was doomed to fail, as it did. And within a few short years, although they didn’t seem all that short back then, the Stoll brothers were trickling back up to Aylmer. They moved back. And when you\u2019re a deacon, you\u2019re a deacon, wherever you are. Stephen Stoll stepped right back into his old role in Aylmer. <\/p>\n

I remember how startled I was, when he first stood up to read Scripture in church. He was not the man I had remembered, from back when they left. He looked all different. Dark, somehow. His beard was a huge, untrimmed jumble. He had stubble for a mustache, one of the Stolls\u2019 pet peeves. They believed in mustaches. And Stephen, I would say, had a clearly distinct one. I was startled, too, by his voice. It wasn\u2019t mellow, like I\u2019d remembered. It was fuzzy, somehow, kind of gruff. And he read the Scripture that day. I don\u2019t remember where church was. But I can still see him, standing up there, with that big old German Bible in his hands. <\/p>\n

And I told my brothers that afternoon, after we got home from church. The man looks like a bear. He sounds like a bear, too. Grizzle, grizzle, growl, growl. That\u2019s how he sounded. And Stephen and Titus agreed. He looked and sounded like a bear. And from that day forward, right or wrong, Stephen Stoll was known as \u201cBear\u201d Stoll in our world. It just fit, the name. And, yeah, we were derisive, speaking it, labeling him like that. Yes. We were. I\u2019m not here to make any excuses about who we were or what we did. Just trying to tell a story of a man. <\/p>\n

He was Elmo Stoll\u2019s older brother, Bear Stoll was. And I\u2019ve often marveled, that those two men were born of the same mother. At least when you heard them speak. Elmo had the golden, gifted tongue. He could make you like him, even as he was taking away your rights to please his furious, frowning God. Stephen couldn\u2019t speak publicly, to save his life. He stumbled and muttered and growled. But they made the perfect team, when you think about it. The gifted leader always needs an enforcer, to carry out his strident decrees. Stephen was Elmo\u2019s enforcer. And he was real good at what he did. <\/p>\n

They were just human, the two of them. And I want to keep that in mind. But they also hurt a lot of people, hurt them deeply. There\u2019s simply no denying that. All because of the vision of righteousness that Elmo saw and Stephen enforced. Probably because he saw that vision, too. Aylmer would be pure. Aylmer would be perfect. That\u2019s what they believed as they strode through life, all bold and confident. <\/p>\n

He had one redeeming factor, Bear Stoll did. Talking through a child\u2019s eyes, here. And that was this. He never, never preached a sermon. A deacon\u2019s job is to get up, and read the Scripture. Way too many Amish deacons seize that moment in the sun. Here\u2019s their chance, to get their voice in. Here\u2019s their chance, to say something profound. It\u2019s probably a big temptation, and I don\u2019t judge them like I used to, back when I had to sit quietly on a hard bench and listen to a third sermon in church, when there were only supposed to be two. And to an Amish child, it\u2019s a big deal, that a deacon sits down on time. And that a preacher does, too, come to think of it. You respect a deacon when he pretty much just does his job, at least when it comes to reading Scripture. <\/p>\n

Bear Stoll always, always spoke his favorite Bible verse, leading up to the reading. \u201cIch habe Meine Augen auf zu denn Bergen\u2026\u201d \u201cI hold my eyes up to the hills, from whence cometh my help…\u201d He also had a few short stories, that he liked to share. He took only a minute or two, telling them. And the one he told over and over was this. He was born in Daviess, where his father was born. And he grew up there, before Peter moved out. And he and his brothers loved basketball. They loved to play it and watch it. And there was some big rivalry game going on one night, at the local high school. Probably Barre-Reeve. And Stephen and his brothers wanted very badly to go watch that game. After school, they approached their father. If we work fast, and get our chores done early, can we go watch the basketball game? His father looked real grieved, Stephen said. And he didn\u2019t say anything for a little while. And then he asked his sons. \u201cIs that where you would like to be, if Jesus came back tonight?\u201d By this time, tears were always trickling down Bear’s dark and bearded face. And he always sobbed a little, in the telling of it. His closing line was always the same. \u201cThat was enough of an answer for us.\u201d <\/p>\n

That\u2019s where the Stolls come from, from a world like that. Where a father asks his sons if they\u2019d want to be watching a basketball game, if Jesus came back right when they were doing that. It\u2019s a messed-up place, such a world. And that\u2019s the world I came from, too, now that I think of it. Actually, Stephen and his brothers were far bolder and far freer with their father, than me and my brothers could ever hope to be with Dad. We would never have dreamed, never have dared, to even ask such a thing of him. Can we go to a basketball game? We would never have asked, because such a question was never even a remote possibility in our world. <\/p>\n

I never was a church member in Aylmer, so I never had to experience the terror of a visit from the man. Still, what he pulled off now and then affected me. And I remember one particular incident. Some youth were visiting from another Amish community in Indiana. And they got the grand idea, my brothers and sisters, and their friends from Indiana. Let\u2019s all go to the Sand Hills, one evening. We can hire a bus to take us. We\u2019ll have a big picnic. And we\u2019ll play softball, on the diamond, there. We figured to spread the word around, to all the other youth. Well, I wasn\u2019t sixteen, but I was old enough to go along to a place like this. And we sent Titus out on the road, the day before, spreading the news. We\u2019re going to the Sand Hills with our Indiana friends, tomorrow evening. And Titus made one big, innocent mistake. He told people, including Bear Stoll\u2019s sons. Bring your softball gloves. We\u2019ll have a good game, playing together. <\/p>\n

The next day came, and we were all looking forward to it, eagerly. The Sand Hills. A big old cookout. And a softball game. Stephen Stoll was greatly perturbed, when he heard the news from his sons. And that day, he took his horse and buggy on the road. He stopped to see people, the leaders of the church. He grizzled and growled. And by late that afternoon, late on the afternoon of the very day we had planned our picnic, he had triumphed. He had called it off. Boys and girls should not be playing softball together. It might lead to lust. I remember vividly how shocked and disappointed I was, hearing the news. I was probably fourteen years old, right then. And the bitter thoughts and bitter words that flowed from me had pretty much the reverse effect that Bear Stoll had expected from his holy stand. I despised the man, deeply. Right there, at that young age, if you despise the deacon in your church for pulling off a stunt like that, someone\u2019s in trouble. Either me, or the deacon. <\/p>\n

That\u2019s where the Stolls come from, a place like that. And no, this time I can\u2019t identify. I think even my father was perturbed, that the picnic had been canceled on such a flimsy pretense. You think about it. There is no way you\u2019re not serving a furious, frowning God, when you pull off something like Bear Stoll pulled off, that time. <\/p>\n

And time flowed on, and brought what time usually brings. We moved out of Aylmer, my family. Dad did what he thought he needed to do, to keep his sons Amish. And I didn\u2019t see much of Bear Stoll, after that. Not for years. I held the bitterness of who he was in my heart, though. They all became \u201cBears,\u201d the Aylmer leaders. Anyone in my circles knows exactly what I mean, when I mention that term. Bears. Dark men, dark people, with dark hearts, pretending to live in light, up there on that shining city on a hill. <\/p>\n

When you pretend to live all perfect like that, it\u2019ll catch up with you. It just will, when you proclaim your purity like the Aylmer Bears did. And it caught up to them, back in the 1990s. I don\u2019t remember the exact dates. But there were scandals, up there. Big, big sandals. I won\u2019t go into detail. Let\u2019s just say it was all pretty humiliating, for people who had projected all the answers before, to their world. And there was lots of humility, going on. I was pretty bitter, when it all came down. I ignored their humility, and smirked. Yeah. Take that. You deserve it. <\/p>\n

Time has a funny way of changing how you look at the past, though. And it\u2019s been pretty strange, looking back. The Bears of Old Aylmer are no longer what they once were, when I look back. They are human, and they are people. They always were, I suppose. I just couldn\u2019t see it. They were people trying to live their lives before the Lord, as best they knew how. Sure, they were flawed, deeply flawed. But then, who isn’t? And from where I am today, I can see that so clearly. It\u2019s all so plain. It doesn\u2019t mean people don\u2019t hurt people. They do. It just means you can let it go. And in the last decade or more, it\u2019s been almost a fond term, to those of us who came out of that world. Bears. Aylmer Bears. It\u2019s a connection. If you understand the term, you came from where I was. <\/p>\n

He moved out of Aylmer for the second and final time. I don\u2019t remember exactly when that happened. Early 1990s, maybe. A group of Aylmer people wanted to be more plain, live a more holy life. So they moved up north a ways, to Lindsay, Ontario. To set up an even more perfect place than Aylmer was. It was a disaster from day one, Lindsay was. The place has been plagued with dissension since the day of its inception. That\u2019s neither here nor there, I guess. It\u2019s just the place where Stephen Stoll lived out his final days. <\/p>\n

I remember the first time I faced those men, and they looked at me without judgment. It was after the scandals. In the late 1990s. Reuben and me, and my nephew, John Wagler, snuck up there for my nephew Ivan Gascho\u2019s wedding, on Reuben\u2019s plane. We weren\u2019t invited, because they\u2019re not allowed to invite you. Somehow, I had let them know. We\u2019re coming. And when we got there, they had a bench for us. And later, they had food, too, on a table, waiting for us. Everyone was very welcoming. <\/p>\n

The thing I remember about that day, though, is this. They came and spoke to us, the Bears of Aylmer. And they spoke to us with no judgment on their faces. This was way before I had a writing voice, so it wasn\u2019t fear that made them act that way. It was their hearts. They meant it, it was real. I remember especially that Stephen Stoll, and his brother, Joe, made a special effort to come to where we stood. And they just smiled and talked. Visited. I don\u2019t remember what we talked about, much. Just that we talked. <\/p>\n

And since that day, I saw Stephen Stoll probably three or four times. I was always increasingly shocked, when I saw him. He was gray and bent and feeble. Just an old man, struggling along. And I wondered. How could such a man as this ever strike terror in anyone\u2019s heart? It\u2019s the passing of time, I guess, that changes things. For both sides. For those who instill fear with force. And for those who felt that fear and force. <\/p>\n

The original \u201cBear\u201d of Old Aylmer mellowed tremendously in his old age. And I\u2019ve heard he spoke it. He would do some things different, if he had them to do over again. He would do some things different. He realized what he\u2019d done, the people he\u2019d hurt. He regretted it. And he spoke that regret. <\/p>\n

He was old and gray and frail, the last time I saw him. At a funeral. And he usually made it a point, to come over and speak to me when he saw me. And I never sensed any judgment in the man. Only kindness, and perhaps some sprinkling of regret. He smiled and talked to me. And I smiled back and talked to him. <\/p>\n

I had heard his health was bad. And now he has passed away after a long struggle with cancer. He was seventy-seven years old. <\/p>\n

Stephen Stoll, Rest in Peace.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

And forever the river runs, deep as the tides of time and memory, deep as the tides of sleep, the river runs… Thomas Wolfe _____________ It\u2019s been one of those weeks, when nothing was coming, writing-wise. And by Wednesday, I was pretty resigned. There would be no blog post this Friday. I can\u2019t force this […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-13006","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13006","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=13006"}],"version-history":[{"count":26,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13006\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13033,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13006\/revisions\/13033"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=13006"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=13006"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=13006"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}