Martha Ruth, Preacher's Daughter: Her Journey Through Religion, Sex and Love. Marti Eicholz

Indiana. We were moving north and closer to the Hines, which pleased my mother.

      Our last Sunday in English had a pleasant surprise. It was the custom of the church to have a treasurer’s report at the end of the Sunday morning worship service. Even as a child, I thought it was extremely strange to end a worship service with a treasurer’s report. The church treasurer would report the income and the expenditures. Ten percent of the balance would go to the minister. This was his salary for the week. It varied. It was uncertain. Thankfully, we did have our housing covered, so there was no worry of becoming homeless. This Sunday, the minister’s share was the greatest ever. My memory fails me, but it was either 75 or 90 dollars. WOW! That was great! This was two or three times the usual amount, and after we were VOTED OUT. Maybe someone really did like us and thought we were okay.

      It was a short time before our departure, so I had to rush to see my friend next door. The couple who lived down the hill from our side yard had a boy about three years older than me. He was a foster child—an orphan they had taken in or an adoptee. I never knew which, but I understood that the couple could not have children and that this boy was living with them. We had played together on occasion. When I told him I was leaving, he told me he would get some kites and to meet him up in the meadow the next afternoon. I really didn’t know about kites nor had I ever seen one. But the next afternoon, we met in the meadow across from the opposite hill—the hill that had the jailhouse. He began handling his kite, and he gave me one. I was to listen to and follow his instructions, and then my kite would fly. The conditions and the winds were perfect, and our kites soared. I felt like I was aboard a kite flying through the air, away from here and on to my new home. The song “I’ll Fly Away” rang through my being.

      “I’ll fly away oh glory, I’ll fly away

      When I die hallelujah by and by, I’ll fly away

      Just a few more weary days and then, I’ll fly away

      To a land where joy will never end, I’ll fly away

      I’ll fly away oh glory, I’ll fly away”

      It was memorable.

      Soon, we were packed, the truck was loaded, the house was swept clean, and off we were to stay overnight with the Enlows before our trip to Columbus. The Enlows took good care of us. We were tired and weary, but sleeping on the farm with the windows open wide and breathing the fresh country air was wonderfully peaceful. At the beginning of sunrise, I could smell the fried chicken. Yes, we had fried chicken and homemade biscuits and gravy for breakfast. It was extraordinary. My only regret was not being able to run through the woods one more time to check on the quietness of the flowing stream as it bubbled over the stones under a ray of sunshine shining through the trees. I could see and feel it in my mind. The memory would always be there. I would be able to return any time I needed solace and comfort, or just for the plain joy of it.

      Doll and Olas Hine were proud of their family, all ministers in their own ways.