The family formed a sensational musical group for sharing God’s message. They retired as a group when Phil, the oldest, entered high school; Steve, the middle child, entered junior high; and Susan, the youngest, entered first grade. They settled down on Grandfather Hine’s farmland and built a new life. Max worked as a postman in Indianapolis, the children were enrolled in school, and Max and Barbara continued performing in churches all over the area.

      Back to English and my childhood, there was a movie theatre in town. My church didn’t believe in going to the movies, so I didn’t give the theatre much thought until “Black Beauty” was showing, and my teacher decided our class would attend. For this field trip, you were not allowed to go without permission from your parents. “Black Beauty” was the story of a widower trying to raise his motherless daughter, Anne. He presents her with a colt, Black Beauty, with the hope that by learning to discipline the horse, she may learn to discipline herself. I thought perhaps I could learn something from this, but I was unable to attend. It was ridiculous to read a book but not be able to see it in pictures. My class walked from the school to the theatre, and that was okay. Then, the class stopped and entered the theatre, and I waved goodbye and walked home alone. Yes, I was right. I was different. I did not fit into this group.

      The church’s activities were gathering places for the townspeople, farmers, and landowners in the surrounding area. One of the most powerful families was Seth Denbo’s. Mr. Denbo owned the lumberyard and the car dealership across the highway from our house. He had a huge hatchery and breeding farm for producing quality purebred poultry and eggs. He farmed crops of all kinds. Late one afternoon, there was a crackle in the air followed by the sounds of police sirens and a racing fire engine. All those noises made me want to hide. I was frightened by the sounds and the smell; and when I looked out the window, what I saw was horrifying. The lumberyard was ablaze. It was terrifying to realize the possibility of a spark causing more fires. Glued to the window, I could see sparks falling on our lawn. The smoke, the smell, and the sight of it all were suffocating. Then I noticed the full moon. I was fascinated by the moon, my never constant yet always faithful friend, hovering over me and chasing away my fear. Sleep would not come. I was consumed. Finally, weary beyond words after hours of being stuck to the windowpane, I looked up at the moon, spoke to Jesus, and fell asleep.

      Seth Denbo was a strong supporter of the church, a powerhouse in the community, and a major force in state politics. He was a conservative Republican, and he fought hard for southern Indiana’s needs, issues, and concerns. He lobbied in Indianapolis for the people living south of Highway 40. He was a guiding light for those who hated Indianapolis’s running of the GOP. It was felt by many that Indianapolis favored the northern part of the state. Even Grandmother Hine favored northern Indiana. She lived only a few miles north of Highway 40, but still her allegiance was there. Of course, her influence did not help my mother, who was constantly trying to please her own mother while living in the south. Suddenly, Seth Denbo quit the church. Mr. Denbo and my father had been close. They worked together for the good of the church, they supported each other, and now he was gone. What happened? I was shocked. I missed going out to the farm. I missed the kids, the animals, the whole scene. My mother began to snoop, pry, and investigate to discover what was going on and what had happened. This was the beginning of my father’s shutting down, sheltering himself, and not discussing things with my mother. Well, this did not sit well. He undoubtedly was fearful of what hurt, damage, or stress the truth might cause. If they ever knew what happened between Mr. Denbo and the church, I never found out. As a child, I always wondered what could happen to a faithful, loyal, and dedicated servant of Jesus who just suddenly “quit.” I missed him and his bald head. I have often thought about him, and I still miss him.

      We were in our fifth year at the church in English. It was traditional to have the church elections in late spring. New local church officials would be selected first, and then came the vote on the minister. The yearly election was always an anxious time for our family. How many yeses and how many noes? Did they like us? Who might reject us? What nonsense! Really, had we served them well? Were the spiritual needs and expectations of THEIR church being fulfilled? It was their church. A minister comes and goes. Of course, hindsight is always better. At that point in my life, it was a matter of wondering whether they “liked” us. Well, the vote was taken. After the final count, my father, meaning the family, had been voted OUT. We were to move at the end of August and be at our next parish before school started.

      This was the beginning of a new mindset in our family. We wondered, “What will the people think?” This thought permeated everything we did or said. Everything revolved around the premise of pleasing others. That is not a comfortable way to live life. You never have a good, sound feeling about what you really think, believe, or feel. It is important to live in an environment in which there is no fear. We became afraid of living—afraid of what people thought. Much of my life in English had been so beautiful. Much of it had been so extraordinarily lovely. Now, I could feel an increased sense of fear and anxiety, especially from my mother.

      August would soon be here, and with it our yearly conference and camp meeting in Frankfort. My new clothes were being prepared, and I stood up straight while the hems were being pinned. News arrived that attendees needed to be cautious and that the conference could be scaled down because of the fear of a widespread polio epidemic. It struck so severely that, on July 30^th, the Board of Health in Portland, Jay County, Indiana, demanded that all public events be closed and shut down. Kids were not to go outside to play. Polio, often called infantile paralysis, was peaking. Polio was an infectious disease caused by the poliovirus, causing fever, headache, vomiting, diarrhea, neck stiffness, and pain in the arms and legs. A mild case could last a few days. A more severe case, when the infection inflames the anterior horn cells of the spinal cord and destroys the motor nerves, could take up to two years to recover from and in some cases caused permanent paralysis. Every summer, there would be a serious outbreak in at least one part of the country. This summer, the Midwest—and specifically Indiana—was identified as being at risk. My parents decided to go to the conference, but they stayed with my grandparents who lived 17 miles away from Frankfort. My brother and I stayed home, and Grandmother Hertel came. That was fine with me. I was fed up with going to camp and being asked about falling in