I’ve gotten close to Eli, the foreman of Moise’s Barn Raising. We just hit it off. Although Moise is front and center in the construction, Eli is clearly in charge.

I showed up at the site early, around 6:30.

He was the only person there; he was walking around checking the flooring; the others were allowed to sleep a little late today. Eli has been generous in taking time to see me about the construction; many of it is getting through.

He seems to be able to see everything at once; I’ve seen him head off at least a dozen potential troubles with falling beams or mismeasured planks. He is a protectionist – no shortcuts. He’ll order something re-done five or six times until it’s just right. And he is loud.

Eli can see a faulty measurement yard away, and he is intuitively safety conscious. Some of the younger workers are bold and fearless; he makes sure they are not taking unnecessary chances.

He is a charismatic and dominant presence, short, with a good-sized belly he pats from time to time.  He issues his commands, corrections, and warnings in a stream of German and Pennsylvania Dutch.

He can’t remember an injury on a barn raising he worked on.

It’s Astonishing when I think of all those men hammering nails way up on thin planks. One of the benefits of the raisings, he said, is that the young get to learn from the older workers.

Most of the people coming have raised a lot of barns. “They know what to do,” he said.

“But I have to keep an eye on them all,” he said.

Eli is different from Moise; he has a lively sense of humor – Moise’s is dry –  and he loves to kid – we always make each other laugh.

Whenever I show up, he comes over, and we talk – about the construction,  his life, his travels – his love of what he does. Sunday, there will be no work, and today, he said, it will be mostly clean-up and laying some planks. Yesterday, he said, they laid 300 planks in the barn.

The real show comes Tuesday and Wednesday, he said.

He explained how word of a raising goes out in letters to different Amish districts and is announced in churches. He won’t know how many workers will arrive until he sees them walking up to the site. “I always like to have a minimum of 75,” he said. “And I always have at least that many.”

The Amish call it “mutual aid,” and it is a central element in the faith. Church members help each other whenever needed. He is traveling and working all the time.

I asked him if he was having as much fun as it looked, and he nodded. “I love every minute of this,” he said, “we all do. We do it for each other, it’s hard work, but it’s not working at all.” He said it was his calling.

He also thanked me for bringing six bags of ice which he said is important on a hot and cloudless day. He said the ice coolers made a huge difference. Mostly, the workers drink powdered Gatorade mixed with water.

I am struck by how joyous these people are doing the hard work they do. “This is what it is all about,” Eli said, “we come together to help each other. That feels wonderful. We love  helping each other.”

We talked a lot about loving our work. “I think the people who love what they do are blessed exceptionally,” I said. “The farmers here all tell me that farming used to be a calling, now it’s just another job. That’s sad.”

I said writing was my calling; I also love my work. I think that is one of our connections; we both see the joy in what the other does and the importance of loving what you do.

Eli never gets paid; he would never take any money for the work.

He said doing things that help other people feel good. He could never have a job. He walked through what happens on the day of the raising Wednesday and told me the best time to come. It is a wonderful moment when the walls go up, he said.

He said the work would be light today and Sunday is not a working day. He said I might be wise to rest today; it will be intense from Monday on.

I am tired; I’ve been writing a lot, driving a lot, getting up early every morning, running around a lot. I’ll take today and most of tomorrow off. Just watching how hard these people work makes me tired.

We’ll see what happens on Wednesday; I’m the oldest person to appear on the site so far. The Amish show a lot of respect to older people when they are not thumbing wrestling with them.

Almost everyone nods, waves or says hello.

That feels good. The blog will be quiet today, except for photos of bright and colorful things.