Youtharama
—During my teen years my hyper-religious parents made me hang out with a group of teenagers allied to my church.
This was probably a mistake, since all the others were ne’er-do-wells like me, evil and disgusting. Hardly people that would “straighten-me-out!”
Our group was led by an adult who may have been a Dupont Vice-President. (Dupont rules northern DE, and I am somewhat native — moved there at age-13 from south Jersey.)
That guy, and his wife, had a “burden” for us, because most adults in the church considered us disgusting.
I still remember a church deacon sanctimoniously telling me I was “degraded.”
For which reason I immediately established the founding chapter of DYA (“Degraded Youth of America”) in my high-school.
It countered my high-school chapter of Youth-for-Christ (YFC), which I also was forced to join.
Our leader would drive us all up to Philadelphia (from Wilmington) to attend a Youtharama gig.
I suppose “Youtharama” is a takeoff on “Cinerama.” Youtharama began in 1956; an attempt to bring religion to youth, an outreach of Percy Crawford, a Philadelphia radio-evangelist.
What a wonderful idea, except we ne’er-do-wells pursued less boring options.
Youtharama wasn’t interesting to us.
Jokes, and singing, and finally an alter-call, wherein zealots in the crowd all got up to “go forward.”
By so doing they hoped to persuade the average attendee to also go forward.
What we did instead is sneak out to ride Philadelphia’s Broad-Street subway.
It wasn’t far, and didn’t cost much.
Riding a subway was much more interesting to this railfan than religious posturing.
Another diversion was to sneak elsewhere in the building to drop spitballs in people’s drinks.
This actually happened, readers. A reception-dinner was being held elsewhere in the building, and we ne’er-do-wells were in a balcony above the reception.
We could drop spitballs in people’s drinks. The spitballs were made from Youtharama programs.
Despite our evil tendencies, that adult leader left his mark. I saw him years later after he left Dupont to found an antiques store with his wife in Wilmington.
No contact, but I think they recognized me.
Meanwhile my sister married and then divorced one of my fellow ne’er-do-wells. He became a hippie.
This was probably a mistake, since all the others were ne’er-do-wells like me, evil and disgusting. Hardly people that would “straighten-me-out!”
Our group was led by an adult who may have been a Dupont Vice-President. (Dupont rules northern DE, and I am somewhat native — moved there at age-13 from south Jersey.)
That guy, and his wife, had a “burden” for us, because most adults in the church considered us disgusting.
I still remember a church deacon sanctimoniously telling me I was “degraded.”
For which reason I immediately established the founding chapter of DYA (“Degraded Youth of America”) in my high-school.
It countered my high-school chapter of Youth-for-Christ (YFC), which I also was forced to join.
Our leader would drive us all up to Philadelphia (from Wilmington) to attend a Youtharama gig.
I suppose “Youtharama” is a takeoff on “Cinerama.” Youtharama began in 1956; an attempt to bring religion to youth, an outreach of Percy Crawford, a Philadelphia radio-evangelist.
What a wonderful idea, except we ne’er-do-wells pursued less boring options.
Youtharama wasn’t interesting to us.
Jokes, and singing, and finally an alter-call, wherein zealots in the crowd all got up to “go forward.”
By so doing they hoped to persuade the average attendee to also go forward.
What we did instead is sneak out to ride Philadelphia’s Broad-Street subway.
It wasn’t far, and didn’t cost much.
Riding a subway was much more interesting to this railfan than religious posturing.
Another diversion was to sneak elsewhere in the building to drop spitballs in people’s drinks.
This actually happened, readers. A reception-dinner was being held elsewhere in the building, and we ne’er-do-wells were in a balcony above the reception.
We could drop spitballs in people’s drinks. The spitballs were made from Youtharama programs.
Despite our evil tendencies, that adult leader left his mark. I saw him years later after he left Dupont to found an antiques store with his wife in Wilmington.
No contact, but I think they recognized me.
Meanwhile my sister married and then divorced one of my fellow ne’er-do-wells. He became a hippie.
Labels: fond memories
posted by BobbaLew at 1:48 PM
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