hen I arrived at the Tampa airport,
I was met by our good friend, Rev. Richard Brill, the acting superintendent
of the twelve churches of the Evangelical United Brethren denomination in
Florida. Our denomination was strong in Virginia, Pennsylvania and the mid-western
states, but weak in the south.
Richard had made arrangements for me to stay with an active church couple
and he took me directly to their home. They had already contacted a neighbor,
who was a Bradenton teacher, to pick me up and escort me to the pre-school
meetings. These arrangements made my adjustments to my new environment much
easier than it would have been, had I been entirely on my own.
I knew that I would be teaching in the old Central Elementary School. During
the pre-school meetings I became acquainted with one of the teachers who
had been in that school several years. She lived four or five blocks from
the parsonage. We made the plans necessary for my transportation to and from
school. I had sold my old car just before leaving for Florida and knew that
the other car always had to be at Troy's disposal.
I arrived in Bradenton August 13th and meetings started for me on the 15th.
I only stayed with the Rinehart’s two or three days. The parsonage was just
a block or two from their home and they had a key to it, which they gave
to me. It was partially furnished. We were having shipped down the other
things that we wanted here. Mrs. Rinehart loaned me everything I would need
until our things arrived. Our church parsonages were not furnished until
after the union with the Methodist Church in 1968. The congregation, to which
the pastor was going, paid the moving bill.
Troy left for West Virginia to pick up his father and step-mother on August
20th. We had closed up the house at Singers Glen before I left, and he was
staying in the parsonage at Waynesboro and finishing his conference reports.
His last preaching service there was on the 18th, when he was presented a
car radio, along with gifts of money.
Troy, with his folks, spent two nights out on the journey to Florida. His
dad was not yet seventy-eight, but was in poor physical condition. He used
a walker and had suffered several minor strokes, which left hire confused
at times. His wife was eight years younger than Dad. We loved them both and
were so happy that we could get them away from the cold winters in West Virginia.
But Dad did not like Florida. One day Mom called Troy at the church office
and told him Dad had left on his walker, saying that he was going to walk
back to West Virginia. He wanted to be able to look out and see a mountain.
He remarked one day that the trees in Florida did not even look like trees.
Troy found him about two blocks from the parsonage ambling slowly along on
his walker. He was just so discontented that Troy had to take them back home
after a few months. He left them at his half-sisters until he could get the
water on and the house warmed up.
He nearly froze before this was accomplished. Before he left he made arrangements
for the next door neighbor to keep the coal furnace going for them.