Fifty years ago, we were young and unaware of what the future held. We were babies of the 40s, and 50s, and adolescence of the 60s. Now look at us. We’re senior citizens of the 21st century.

Yet is seems like only yesterday we stood in rows on risers, dawned robes, look for instructions from a young choir director with long arms in front of us and sang as only the young can sing.

We held bake sales, shined shoes, and peddled doughnuts and coffee between Sunday School and the worship service to raise the money that financed choir tours so we could raise our voices and share our testimonies across the country.

I remember vividly the year we traveled to the Hemisfair in San Antonio, Texas. I dropped a penny from the tower that was erected for the event. A member of security caught me in the act and informed me that a penny dropped from that height would create enough velocity by the time it reached the ground that it could penetrate a human skull. Terrified, I looked over the railing at the ant sized people below, fearing I would see one of them sprawled out on the concrete far below. Thankfully, there were no deaths reported that day.

We saw the Alamo and drove by the new Astro Dome. Our stop in New Orleans was another eye opener as we walked along Canal Street, Jackson Square, and Bourbon Street. One adventurous young man was busted trying to sneak onto the bus more than the Holy Spirit as we rendezvoused to leave the city. We were Methodist and he must have had a weak moment and backslid. I’m certain he repented several times before we returned home and faced his parents.

On our stop at LSU’s campus some of us were introduced to our first microwave oven. We were in the student Union canteen and I, for one, was amazed that a cold hamburger could be placed into a small stainless-steel box, a button pushed, and it come out hot a few seconds later. It was magic.

One trip took us to Rock City. For some us those trips were the only vacation trips we had ever taken. We became more than just a group of kids singing. We became family. However, the trek across the swinging bridge made a few wonder if we wanted to be related to a few of the others at all. The trip along the gulf coast shortly after Hurricane Camille made us aware that tomorrow was promised to no one.

The young choir director told us about an actor that was starting up a hospital in Memphis and needed a little help. Our youth group was among the first in the country to go door to door raising money for the new St. Jude Hospital.

On Friday nights after home football games we raised eyebrows of neighboring churches as we held dances in our fellowship hall. We went on scavenger hunts, played shuffle board, and had parties on weekends. Our youth group was so close that at dances it was almost like dancing with siblings as the we danced to bands like; Little John and His Merry Men and CSR.

On nice summer nights we sang Kumbaya around bond fires at a sandpit near Lake Tiak-O’khata beneath the stars. Other times we just sat and watched fireflies and listened to whippoorwills while we dreamed about what our futures held.

Our youth director had a way of engaging with us like no one had before. Once he put thumbtacks on the hammers of an old upright piano that sat in the corner of our choir room. When he sat and played, it made an “tinging” sound like one of those old player-pianos in a western movie. It was difficult not to laugh when he was sitting on the bench pounding away on the keys.

Some week days during the school year a group of us kids rose early to gather at the church for devotionals and doughnuts before racing off to first period. It wasn’t unusual to see eight or nine of us piled high into a single car, speeding across town trying to make it to school before the bell rang.

I doubt if the young man who came into our lives back fifty years ago had any idea of the impact he was making in our lives. I’m certain that we didn’t. It has only been with the passing of years we have been able to look back and see what a difference he made in us. Truly, God sent him our way during that special time in our lives.

He helped us build life foundations that have stood the test of time. He helped create memories and experiences that we have treasured for five decades. I cannot imagine what our lives would have been like had he not come to our town. I cannot imagine my youth without those memories.

Back in those days I was never bold enough to stand before congregations and share my testimony like some of the other kids did. For you see, I wasn’t ready. I was still searching for something to complete my life. Something to fill the void I could not see. It was only years later that it all clicked like a light switch being flipped on and I finally got it. It became personal. Had I not had that foundation he helped build, I wonder if it would have ever happened.

I treasure those mountaintop experiences of my youth that pointed me in the right direction. I’m grateful for the friendships and memories that are as strong today as they were back then.

Thank you, Russel Ray, for coming to our town. And thank you for making a difference in our lives.

A lot of us looking forward to seeing you again next month.

Precious Memories, How They Linger.

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Rick Algood
April 23, 2019