This morning, I was invited to witness another remarkable Amish tradition, the moving of a family from one Amish community to another.

I have never seen anything quite like it, and I’ve moved a lot.

First, a giant truck arrived.

It came with a horse and wagon and the contents of a house from an Amish community in upstate New York.

While the new resident and her husband rode the bus to Glens Falls, N.Y., between 30 and 40 Amish men, women and children, came to unload and pasture the horse.

They emptied the contents of the truck, carry them to her temporary new home, and moved her things into her home so she can simply live there. The move cost her nothing and the house was ready to live in when she arrived with her family.

The same community had been coming to her new property over the past few weeks to dig a well, build a barn and an outhouse and finish her temporary home.

They will be back within a year to build her and her family a permanent home at the top of a hill, with an adjoining barn.

The woman is Katie Ann, she is the daughter of Mosie Miller, my friend and the founder of a new Amish community that has sprung up in Eastern Washington County, N.Y. in the past two years.

I was very comfortable walking through the hive of busy workers. The young children shouted “hey Jon,” or called me “Grandpa.” Everyone seemed to know who I was.

The new Amish community Katie Ann is joining, now numbering roughly 13 families, is restoring farms, buying plots of farmland, starting businesses that range from lumber and woodcraft to food and baked goods, quilts, and jewelry.

The families can also be hired for working the homes of local residents. Many do carpentry, wood stacking, roofing, and home repair. I can say our little town will not be the same.

When I pulled into the property, I was astonished to see Amish men and women all over the place – setting up beds and cabinets, unpacking dishes and towels and mattresses and sheets, painting screen windows, using horse-pulled rolling carts to transport furniture and silverware.

I had never seen so many Amish people together and had no idea there were that many around. Moise said they many came long distances, they were all sheltered in different Amish homes.

The women were setting up the house, the men had formed a human chain to ferry the contents of the giant trick, which was perhaps the longest truck I’ve ever seen.

Mosie waved to me – he calls me “Johnnie Boy” – and took me into the house to show the work they had done. It was impressive, I was there when it was just a pile of boards on the ground.

All the Amish horses were tied up in the shade in the woods behind the house. All stood quietly and patiently waiting to go home, they had buckets of water and grain.

With Katie Ann’s arrival, every one of Mosie’s many children are now living in this new community. More families are on the way.

Katie Ann arrived shortly after lunch, I will be meeting her tomorrow. I had to pick Mosie up at 5:30 and drive him to Albany, where he boarded a train to Ohio. He’ll be returning on Monday and I’ll pick him up then.

On the way, he noticed and remarked on every crop, hay wagon, hay, rye, or alfalfa crop he saw and every soil that was visible to the naked eye. Since he had been up since 4 a.m. plowing and helping with Katie Ann’s move, Mosie dozed off halfway to Albany. I had never seen him sleep before.

Moving is different in the Amish world. No paid movers, every community is responsible for moving families into their new home and building the new homes first.

In the beginning, the homes are temporary so the families can adjust to their new environment.

Within a year, larger and more permanent homes are built by the community as well. I think what I am seeing is a religion that fuses capitalism with socialism and the teachings of Jesus Christ into a  coherent way to live.

They live so differently from us that it always catches me off guard, yet at the core, I think they want most of the things that most humans want. They just have a different idea about how they wish to live.

I walked among the workers today, they all knew me, talked to me, kidded me. I felt like I was connected to them, and accepted by them. They were busy, happy, and laughing. I had trouble climbing down a step and Mosie and his sons were watching me.

“I’ve got a riddle, Johnnie,” Moise said, “what is five feet long and has a curve at the end.” At first, I thought this might be a crude male joke, but Amish men don’t tell crude male jokes or ever curse or speak profanely.

I said I didn’t know as Moise helped me down the stairs.

“A cane!” they all shouted at once, laughing and winking at me.

“I ain’t walking with no cane!” I muttered back, but they just laughed at me.

Everyone was hammering, lifting, carrying, unwrapping, organizing. They worked from 9 am. to the late afternoon. Once again, there was no one in charge, no shouting, barking orders, prodding people to work. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, and they seemed to be enjoying it.

It was festive, a prized ritual, a radically different way to move than I knew of, and I’ve moved nearly 20 times in my life.

By late afternoon, everything was done, the truck was gone, the house furnished, knives and forks and clothes in place, the carts, and buggies scattering in different directions, the horse watered, brushed and was resting in the little barn.

I noticed the girls were dressed in their church clothes as they worked to get the house in order.

Mosie’s wife Barbara introduced me to stern-looking older women in the new home. The woman looked at me and asked Barbara “does he do what he is told to do?”

Barbara smiled and nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, he always does what he is told. And he’s always on time.” The woman smiled at me.

I had the idea that this is what women in patriarchies have always done, learn how to manipulate men.

Maria was incredulous when she heard this. She didn’t seem to agree with the idea that I always do what I am told.

Today I brought Tina her second bag of premium Purina dog food.  She jumped up in my arms when she saw it. While Mosie is gone, I’ll stop by  in the morning and ask if they need anything.

I’ll bet they don’t.

P.S. Tomorrow, Friday is Donut Friday at the Miller Farm. It starts at 7 a.m. at the Miller Farm on Route 22, a couple of houses below the Lauderdale Lake state park.