I Do. I Do. Kiss the Bride . . .and They're Off!

We were in the town of Salt Lick, Kentucky (don’t even begin to say you know where this is at) on July 29 for the wedding of my niece Shon. It was probably appropriate the wedding took place in Kentucky because the length was not much more than that of the annual horse race in Louisville. A total of 12 lengths, I mean, minutes! Hey, end result was still the same for other weddings that take longer. They were still married.

Shon was marrying one Joseph Byrd. None of us up here in Indiana had the opportunity to meet him ahead of time. But he seems like a nice enough guy and I think he’ll take good care of Shon. He has a three year old daughter, Jayce, from a previous marriage, who he really adores and who adores Shon. So, we wish them the best.

While in town for the wedding, we had the opportunity to spend some time with Dorene’s brother, Robert, and his wife, Connie. They live out in the country in Kentucky where Robert has 6 horses. He currently is a truck driver, while not too long ago retiring from the National Guard. He just started the truck route and is really enjoying it.

We took the kids over and they cooked us dinner and then gave the kids rides on their horses. Anna rode Duke, the pony of the bunch. Cameron rode Duke and all the others, including BP, a very big horse. He didn’t want to go too fast because he said he didn’t have any cowboy boots. We rectified this problem the next day, although we weren’t able to return to the horses, so we’ll see if Cameron will still decide to go faster. Anna is city girl, Cameron is county boy, it’s as simple as that.

We stayed down the rode at the Journey’s End Lodge, a 16-room lodge located on a horse ranch. It was actually a very nice place, and cheap at only $65.00 a night. But it was well kept up, a nice pool, and the owners were very friendly. We’ll definitely be back.

After the wedding, we headed down to Lake Cumberland where Dorene’s parents have a cabin. We spent three days down there and Anna was surprised to no end by the appearance of one of her friends, Abigail. Abigail and her mom, Michelle and sister, Emma, visited from Tennessee. They at one time lived in South Bend but had since moved to Chicago, then Pennsylvania, and now Tennessee where Curt (the dad) works for Nissan. They drive a Ford minivan, but never mind. This is a wonderful family and we really miss them so it was really good to see them again, albeit for a very short time. We’ll have to make plans to visit them someday in Tennessee. They live just south of Nashville, so we can take in all the country music sites when we go there. Uh huh, yeah right. We’ll just go straight to their house.

Guilty after 17 Years

On Friday evening, a jury in South Bend found Jeff Pelley guilty in the 1989 slayings of his father, stepmother, and two stepsisters at their home in Lakeville, Indiana. After 17 years, justice was served. This case garnered some national attention and had certainly been making headlines in the South Bend area for a long time.

And now, as Paul Harvey would say, the rest of the story.

The murders took place in April of 1989. At the time, I was living with my parents in Fountain Hills, Arizona, where my dad was pastor of a local United Brethren church. They had been there five years and had been wanting to at some point return to the Midwest. Well, such an opportunity had just presented itself.

So, in August of 1989, my parents moved back to Indiana to Lakeville, Indiana and took up residence in the parsonage where just four months earlier had been the site of one of the bloodiest murder scenes local police had ever seen. My dad was now the pastor of Olive Branch United Brethren Church.

Suspicion of the murders immediately fell on Jeff Pelley, who was 17 at the time. But he was never charged. A murder weapon was never found. There was no physical evidence inside the house because Jeff lived there. He had a seemingly airtight alibi in that he was at Great America in Illinois at the time.

Jeff came over to visit my parents once after they had moved in. He was a knife salesman. Yeah, that had to be a surreal experience. Someone suspected of mass murder showing you knives in the living room of the very house the killings took place in.

About a year after the murders, the tabloid magazine “Hard Copy” showed up and did a segment on the murders. I remember watching the show and the reporter asked my dad, “IS this a HOUSE of DEATH?” My dad responded no and that they had gone to great lengths to assure the congregation that they themselves had no fears about living there (many in the congregation thought they’d be running out of the house, Amityville Horror style, after the first night).

In August of 1991, I moved back to Indiana and for two years slept in the basement of the parsonage. Basically, I slept about 5 feet from where the bodies of the mom and two daughters were found. But, it never bothered me for an instant. I suppose if I had known the family, it would have been creepy. I guess it could have been creepy anyway, knowing such carnage took place so close to where I slept. But it never bothered me.

Years passed, and Jeff Pelley moved to Florida, then moved to California and got on with his life. He married and had a very good job. Never did he tell his new wife about that day in April of 1989. Meanwhile, my parents had retired from the church and moved to Fort Wayne.

In the summer of of 2002, my parents decided to return to Olive Branch church on a part-time basic. Ironically, shortly after returning, charges were finally brought up against Jeff Pelley and he was brought into custody. However, they held Jeff for too long without bringing him to trial, and he was released in the spring of 2003. More time passed, and it looked like that if Jeff was guilty, he would be a free man.

But, he was arrested again, and held for a while with a trial set to start in July of 2006. My parents were very skeptical about the trial even happening. By this time, they had decided to retire once again and return to Fort Wayne. They thought long and hard about it, wondering if they should stick around and be with their congregation through the trial. In another coincidence, their last day at Olive Branch church was on Sunday, July 2, and the jury selection in the Jeff Pelley murder trial began that week.

The trial moved fairly quickly. The case went to the jury on Wednesday, July 19. For almost three whole days, the jury could not come to a verdict. Finally, at 9:30 p.m. on Friday evening, the verdict was announced. Jeff Pelley was found guilty.

This was a case in which one couldn’t imagine how they could find Jeff guilty while at the same time couldn’t imagine how they couldn’t find him guilty. Everyone felt he did it, but the whole case was based on circumstantial evidence, so it was surprising in a lot of ways that he was convicted.

Thus was brought to a close a dark chapter in the history of Olive Branch United Brethren Church. They are searching for a new pastor now, and my parents are now fully enjoying their second retirement.

Meanwhile, Jeff Pelley sits in jail awaiting his sentencing hearing in September. The alleged motive for the murders? Jeff wanted to go to the prom and his dad said no. Well, Jeff did indeed get to go to the prom. I wonder now as he sits in jail, after being free for 17 years, if he thinks it was worth it.

Daddy is Here to Stay

In all seriousness, Cameron asked Dorene the other day, "Are we going to keep daddy?" Dorene inquired further and Cameron wondered if "we were going to give him away." When pushed further, Cameron said that no, he didn't want to get rid of me, because I was a good daddy and that I was funny.

What exactly prompted that we have no idea, but either way, I'm here to stay.

A Sigh of Relief

In the midst of Diane's chemotherapy, Dorene has been struggling with chest pains, shortness of breath, and some rather severe insomnia. Whether this has been brought on by the high level of stress she's been experiencing we were unsure. She went through a number of tests but they all brought up nothing. Then, after a trip to the ER, a test was ordered to check her throat and stomach.

What this resulted in was that a bunch of polyps were discovered in her stomach. Were they benign or not? We didn't know. Coming on the heels of Diane's cancer, optimism was not exactly flowing freely.

After an excruciating time of waiting for the results, Dorene finally found out that everything came up negative, and that the polyps were in no danger of becoming cancerous. A huge sigh of relief.

World Cup Fever

Hey, wasn't that an exciting game yesterday for the World Cup final? What, you didn't watch? But billions around the world did. Oh yeah, I didn't watch it either. I was at the beach with my family. Saw the highlights and evidently it all came down to penalty kicks. Kind of an odd way to end the biggest game that takes place every four years. Sort of like ending the NBA finals with each player taking free throws, or a field goal kicking contest in the Super Bowl.

So Italy won and denied France a chance for a repeat. Thus ends another World Cup. Tune back in 2010 when once again, soccer will be poised to "take America by storm!"

Rick C. Dennie, M.P.A.

Three years after marching in the commencement ceremonies, I finally received my official graduate degree, a Master of Public Affairs from Indiana University South Bend. It's a long story, but the director of the graduate program took soooooo long to finally sign off on my completing the requirements. There had been an issue of one class and whether or not I needed to take it. It turns out I didn't, but he had me submit a research proposal, which started out as being just a couple pages and finally ballooned into about 15-20. So we kept going back and forth, back and forth on how much more I needed to do. I would submit a draft, then wait a long time and hear nothing back. I'd contact him, make some more changes, then wait some more.

Finally, this past spring, I found out the director was going to retire, so I pushed again. Finally, he gave the authorization for me to graduate. So today, rather unceremoniously I walked over to the Registrar's Office and picked up my diploma. Three years after the fact, but now I can finally put that MPA designation on my business cards.

Dad's Last Sunday

Yesterday was my dad's last Sunday as pastor of Olive Branch Church in Lakeville, Indiana. I attended as did my brother Steve and his wife Pam, who came up from Fort Wayne. Stu is a pastor in Ohio so he was not able to attend.

I should quickly alter that opening sentence and say it was my parents' last Sunday at the church. If you look up pastoral team in the dictionary, you will find a picture of my mom and dad. They have been a pastoral team for 33 years and have pastored at six different churches.

Now, my dad did not become a pastor right out of college. He didn't immediately go to seminary and go right into the pastorate. For many years, he was a school teacher. He taught in Pennsylvania until we made the move to Lake Havasu City, Arizona where he continued to teach. It wasn't that he didn't want to be a pastor. No, it's just that my mom wasn't too keen on the idea of being a pastor's wife, which can be the front line for any and all "constructive criticism" that lay people like to subtly inflict on the preacher by going through the back door that is the preacher's wife. Plus, she was happy as her job of secretary to the school superintendent. Why give all that up?

But, she eventually saw the light, or got hit by a donkey, or something happened. So, in the summer of 1973, we packed it up and moved to California. Oh yeah, hang 10, off to California. Okay, it was Pixley, California, land of . . . well, not much. We did have a pomegranite tree in our backyard.

Mom and dad spent 10 years as pastor of Pixley United Brethren Church. It was a great 9 years and 11 months. Then, things got ugly. One of the leaders had something stuck in his, uh, mind, that my parents were . . . .well, I'm not sure exactly anymore what the issues were. It was all stupid. Nevertheless, my parents never got the proper sendoff from Pixley. This really hurt them and I'm not sure I truly understood at the time just how much (I was off to college just after they left). But the years in Pixley were very fruitful.

To me, one moment typifies the kind of pastor my dad was and that all pastors should strive for. He was named Lions Club Member of the Year. What does that tell you? Well, it says that my dad was not just a minister holed up in his church. No, he was out there in the community mixing it up with people that may go to church and some that would never come close to one. But the award also showed the kind of respect he generated from these same people. I doubt many pastors receive this kind of award because they don't get that involved in their local community. My dad did, and to me that was a very proud moment. Oh yeah, as a side note, he made sure that when he attended Club gatherings, he always poured his own punch, because he knew it would make someone's day to throw in a little "extra" of something for the local pastor.

From Pixley, they headed to Fountain Hills, Arizona, where they had a very good five years. A good sendoff and everything. They loved being back in Arizona again but now felt the desire to return to the midwest where they started (mom in Ohio and dad in Michigan). It was the summer of 1989 and news came of a stunning tragedy at Olive Branch United Brethren Church in Lakeville, Indiana. The pastor, his wife, and two daughters were brutally murdered in their home on a Saturday. Their bodies discovered Sunday morning by parishoners wondering where they were at. It would take 17 years before the case was finally solved as the eldest son, Jeff was convicted.

So, my parents moved to Lakeville that summer and took over the church. It was a very good fit. They were certainly the best ones to guide the congregation through such a tragedy. They had a good six years before moving to Fort Wayne where they became the pastoral team at Third Street United Brethren Church. This church eventually closed itself one day through a vote by the board and later reopened as Anchor Community Church, which my brother Steve now attends.

After leaving Third Street, my parents were part-time at the United Brethren Church in Convoy, Ohio, a church whose attendance made the one in Pixley look like a mega-church. But, they really enjoyed their time there and eventually turned over the reins to Stu, who is still the part-time pastor there. By the way, after leaving the church in Fort Wayne in 1998, we had a "retirement" party for dad, but that didn't last long.

During this time, Olive Branch Church had a couple different pastors come and go. They were again without a pastor and my mom and dad decided they wanted to go back. Coincidentally, shortly after returning, Jeff Pelley was charged with the murder of his parents and two step-daughters back in 1989. But it would take a while before the case was finally settled.

In what was supposed to be a part-time job pretty much turned full-time. Initially, my parents would drive up from Fort Wayne on the weekends (having bought a house there). But as time went on, they were basically up here most of the time. It was wonderful having them here, especially for our kids. Cameron would go out there usually every other week to spend the day and help grandpa "shoot the blackbirds." Of course, dad also did a lot of work on our house which we appreciated a great deal.

But in 2006, my parents were longing to truly retire and spend some time in their new house in Fort Wayne. Which brings us to July 2, and their last Sunday at Olive Branch. The service wasn't necessarily anything special, just vintage mom and dad. My mom playing the piano and my dad leading the congregation in the singing of several hymns. My mom leading the children in singing a song from a 1970's musical, "I Like the Sound of America." This brought back memories because I was in this musical when we did it in California. It was my first stage role and after performing the musical at the town's annual Harvest Festival, we took it on the road. Okay, we took it to the city of Alpaugh. Not exactly the longest commute.

Anyway, in addition to the children's choir, my mom got out her accordion. There was never any doubt that she would play "Mansion over the Hilltop" and she did. Next, my dad had all the men go on stage to sing. I had a very good guess what song it would be, and sure enough, it was "How Great Thou Art." But, this was done in dad-style. What this means, is that on the last time through the chorus, you hold those notes. "Then sings my soulllllllllllllllllllllllllll . . . . " and then finishing with the flourish, "How great thou arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt, how GREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT................THOUUUUUUUUUUU..........(hit that high note) ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!" I say this with all due respect because no one leads the old time hymns like my dad (and my niece Paula called on him to do the same with "To God be the Glory" at her wedding last week).

Finally, my dad took to the pulpit for his final message. He's never written any books, never gone on the speaking circuit, but doggone it, he's a very good preacher. Speaks it like it is, adds lots of humor, doesn't speak over people's heads, really connects with his audience and displays a lot of passion for what he does. He has served the pulpit well for 33 years and the pulpit will have an empty space now that my dad isn't there to fill it. Next to him all these years was my mom, who supported him every step of the way and was such an intregal part of their success.

After the service, several of us went to Christo's, a wonderful lunchtime buffet in Plymouth. My parents had made reservations for about 20 but it was at least double that number that actually showed up. This was where everyone could say their final goodbyes. Throughout the day, Steve took lots of pictures. He's kind of become the official family photographer and documentarian of family gatherings, which we all appreciate because he does such a great job with it.

After Christo's, we went back to the parsonage for one last post-church analysis where my mom took attendance. She mails out bulletins to those that weren't able to attend. She's done this from the days of the purple ink ditto machine in Pixley to the "advanced" technology of the mimeograph machine, and finally to the computer age. Although, if she had her way, she'd still type up the bulletins on her old reliable IBM Selectric typewriter. As we talked about the day, we were all extremely pleased at how everything turned out. It truly was a good finale for mom and dad and a proper sendoff.

Thus came to an end their pastoral run at six different churches: Pixley, Fountain Hills, Lakeville, Fort Wayne, and Convoy. Wait a minute, that's only five. Well, evidently, there was some very brief stint in the hills of Kentucky or Maryland at a church which I hear was a cross between something you'd see in "Coal Miners Daughter" with a touch of "The Beverly Hillbillies." I believe they were there for a week, maybe two. I have become sketchy on the details of this stint, so I'll need to ask them about this one again.

Meanwhile, my parents will be retired again. We'll see how long it lasts this time.