Up on the Rooftop
“This is Steve. Mike Ford’s husband. I’m calling about the work you’re doing on our roof.”
As soon as I heard him leave the message, I had a feeling it would have repercussions. Sure enough, not long after my cell phone rang.
“Hello, Mike. This is Jacob Yoder. I just had a message from someone saying he’s your husband, and I wondered if you could explain that to me.”
Several weeks ago, our aging garage roof succumbed to high winds, the shingles scattering across the yard and leaving behind several bald spots. After some calls to our insurance company, then to contractors whose estimates dwarfed our budget, a neighbor suggested we get a quote from one of the Amish builders in the community. They’ve done numerous jobs in town and being on the village council I know we have a strong working relationship with them. Plus, we like to support local businesses.
They came, provided a quote, and we agreed to do business. All that was left was for us to choose the color of the roofing material. The phone call Steve made was to set up a time to visit the shop and do that.
But Steve had not been here for the initial consultation. Nor had I mentioned him. I grew up near an Amish community. I know what they believe. I’ve written entire books about various spiritual paths, which involved doing interviews with people whose views are not even remotely similar to mine. But I generally don’t engage people in discussions about their beliefs, particularly when all I really care about is whether they can get a roof on my garage before the next rainstorm.
Jacob, however, wanted to talk about this. After I explained that Steve being my husband meant that we are indeed married, he said, “I think we’ll need to have you come down and discuss what this means.”
And so, we went over to their shop. Standing beside huge rolls of metal roofing material in various colors, we exchanged pleasantries with Jacob—a man in his 20s—and his even younger brother, Adam. “So, the two of you are married,” Jacob said. “Well, I need you to know that that sin is appalling to God, and therefore to us.”
“So, you won’t be doing the job?” I asked, figuring we might as well get it over with.
“Oh, no,” Jacob said. “We don’t discriminate against anyone. Sin is sin. And we’re all sinners. But we do need you to know how God feels about this.”
At this point I had a choice. Honestly, I’d been expecting them to say they wouldn’t work with us. Now, I wondered if maybe they were hoping I would say we wouldn’t work with them. And I know a lot of people would choose that option.
But I’d been thinking about Mary Calhoun.
Thirty-odd years ago, I was working as an editor at a children’s book publisher. My boss, Frank, was an older gay man. Mary Calhoun was a young woman who worked in the marketing department. After working with us for a couple of years, she came down to our offices and asked if she could speak to me and Frank about something.
It turned out she was leaving the company. “I want to tell the two of you something,” she said. “This was my first job out of school. When I was assigned to work with you, I didn’t want to. I was raised to believe that being gay is a sin. I had never worked with anyone gay, and I was scared. My parents even told me I should quit. But the two of you have been so much fun to work with, and been so nice to me, that it made me rethink what I’d been taught. I just want you to know that.”
Now, I have no reason to think that I’ll change an Amish man’s views on gay people. But you never know. The smallest seed, planted, can grow into the brightest sunflower. So, I didn’t tell Jacob and his brother that we would be taking our business elsewhere. I said, “Great. I think we’ve decided to go with the blue color.”
A few days after our meeting I took the brothers the deposit for the job. Jacob wasn’t there, but Adam was. He was wearing a purple shirt, and as I handed him the check I said, “That’s a beautiful color. It looks great on you.”
I half expected him to be upset, and not only because the Amish consider vanity a sin and remarking on appearance is frowned upon. Instead, he hesitated and then smiled. “It is a beautiful color, isn’t it,” he said.
As queer people we of course encounter all kinds of situations where who we are is questioned, judged, and sometimes outright condemned. And we each choose how we react when this happens. I found out later that a lesbian couple in town had the same experience with the brothers that Steve and I had, and also chose to still work with them, for reasons similar to ours. Not everyone would or should be expected to. As I said, I don’t expect to change the brothers’ beliefs. But maybe, by respecting them as people, a door will crack open and let some light in. And hopefully the roof they put on our garage will keep the rain out. ▼
Michael Thomas Ford is a much-published Lambda Literary award-winning author. Visit Michael at michaelthomasford.com.