1976-88
By 1976 we had made several rather abrupt changes in our circumstances and life style. I had gone from merchant seaman to medical student to seaman recruit in the Naval Reserve to research chemist to seminary student and minister. In 1961 Ellie and I had moved 800 miles with two babies to a completely new region, then after five years changed vocations from the church to the court.
In my fifth decade Ellie had enjoyed Winston-Salem, raising her three babies, looking after her four men, doing good works in the community, developing relationships with many fine people. But once again I uprooted her (and everyone) moving off to a congested metropolis (still seeking the holy grail).
By 1976 we had made several rather abrupt changes in our circumstances and life style. I had gone from merchant seaman to medical student to seaman recruit in the Naval Reserve to research chemist to seminary student and minister. In 1961 Ellie and I had moved 800 miles with two babies to a completely new region, then after five years changed vocations from the church to the court.
In my fifth decade Ellie had enjoyed Winston-Salem, raising her three babies, looking after her four men, doing good works in the community, developing relationships with many fine people. But once again I uprooted her (and everyone) moving off to a congested metropolis (still seeking the holy grail).
On March 7, 1976 I became fifty, and a couple of months later Ellie, Mark and Rob came up and moved into the house in Arlington. Larry Mead went with me down to Winston-Salem and provided most of the heavy work and responsibility of making the move. This was so characteristic of Larry: he would knock himself out for someone, but later become angry because his generosity was not adequately reciprocated. That happened in this case, I'm afraid. I shouldn't have allowed him to do so much for us, but he was definitely the kind of 'take charge' person, very quick to see what needed to be done and to do it. And I let him, as most people do.
In later years I came to see Larry's behavior and attitudes as reflecting the "Martha complex": Martha knocks herself out, but then can't tolerate the idea that others don't do as much. (George Newkirk of Ocala was another notable example of that, and even understood that he was a 'Martha'; he had probably been told by someone with sufficient emphasis for him to remember it. Will Larry wind up as another George?)
Larry became disgruntled with me, with Gateway, and with the whole business some time in 1976. I think it was another instance of his favorite game. Things came to a head in the Mission Group. Shortly before Christmas Larry was moaning emphatically about having to go home for Christmas: he didn't want to go home and always found it a humiliating experience. I began to tell him just as emphatically that he did not have to go home; if he went home it was his decision and he should bear responsibility for it; he shouldn't moan about 'having to do it'. Larry couldn't hear this and must have decided that I was not his friend. He cooled on me personally and became awkward, almost sullen in the Mission Group.
Ellie had remained in Winston-Salem during my second year in Washington because Paul was in his last year in high school. He graduated in May of 1976 and continued to live in Winston-Salem. I suppose he had deeper roots there than other members of the family; in particular he had no inclination or desire at that point to trust his fortune to us and to Northern Virginia.
Left on his own after graduation Paul made his own way, lived several places, sometimes with high school friends, and after a few years on the estate of Mrs. John Whitaker, a very wealthy woman.
Even before the family moved, Bob McGillivray had begun to share the house with us. Bob was another of the 'waifs' I befriended at the C of S. Somehow my ministry usually seemed to focus on the people whom I perceived as needing friends. Bob was definitely such a person.
For several months I had noticed Bob at Potters House, sitting at a table by himself reading a book, for an hour or two each Thursday night. Eventually I had some conversation with him and found he was as open to relationship as anyone I had encountered. He just wasn't very outgoing; in fact I considered him timid in the extreme. But he had a good mind (Phd in Economics) and plenty of creative thoughts to share.
We soon developed a close friendship. One weekend Ellie was there, the three of us sitting at a table at Potters House, and we found ourselves inviting Bob to share the house with us. So Bob and I moved in a week or so before the family came up.
It was a convenient arrangement, and there were no undue pressures--at first. But during the summer Bob had his four children from Seattle for an extended visit; that put a little more stress on the Clayton family than we had anticipated. 5 McGillivrays and 4 Claytons was more than a houseful. Things rocked along, and most of the children went back to their mother; I think one may have stayed a while longer. And eventually Bob moved back to the District.
Once again I had found that 'community is hell'. It's always a trade off. Good things happen, and bad things. I remembered an incident at the Ritz when Jim Cregar and I had sole possession of the apartment, but Byron was spending considerable time with us. Ellie came up for a weekend. That was okay with Jim, but then we had an idea to have Byron bring his children for the weekend, and also stay at the apartment.
Naturally Jim had a right of veto of such a proposal. We asked him, he thought about it and then said, "Okay, I want them to come more than I don't want them to come." Community perhaps always brings ambiguity and ambivalence. It puts a strain on one; at best there are growing pains. We have carried out many experiments and attempts at community of many different sorts; many have failed, but none have been cause for regret.
Our next housemate in Arlington was Perry King, a country boy from some rural town north of Winston-Salem. We were all naturally drawn to Perry when he showed up at the church. He was a radical idealist, had gone through the usual fundamentalist disillusionment, and was seeking spiritual values like so many of the young people who gravitated to the church.
I guess Perry probably spent some time at Gateway, and then Carole Brown, in the Dayspring Mission group at the time, arranged for me to lead a silent retreat. Sally Smelzer, another young friend, and Perry were two of the retreatants. I appreciated Carole's sponsorship and also the fact that my retreat had much less attendance than many. However it was a great experience; at the end of it Sally decided she wanted to be baptized. Perry decided he did, too. He had already been baptized, but felt he had gone past that and wanted to start over. It was a great experience to baptize those two young people in the lake at Dayspring, and as far as I was concerned, made the retreat an outstanding success.
In 1961, when we moved from Louisiana to Millers Creek, I had transferred my official connection with the Methodist Church to the Western North Carolina Conference. After five years at Millers Creek for the next 10 years I received a special appointment as a probation officer and then in 1975 and 76 to the Church of the Saviour (without salary of course).
In 1977 a black bishop assumed leadership of the conference. One morning, out of the blue, the phone rang and my new district superintendent (completely unknown to me) rather summarily informed me that I must take a parish appointment or locate. He seemed to want an immediate answer. I told him I would be in touch with him.
Many people under such circumstances would simply give up their professional relationship (I could name several acquaintances who had been forced or inclined to do that). But as a second generation Methodist minister I had no such intention. I phoned my old pastor, Orion Hutchinson, who was then in Asheville and arranged a meeting with him. He simply took steps to have me transferred to Asheville--to his church in fact.
Then I wrote the Winston-Salem District Superintendent that he need no longer bother about me.
The bishop was putting pressure on the conference to cut down on all these special appointments. In another year I had a total of 20 years and was therefore eligible to retire, which I did. The relationship with the church has been largely meaningless since I left the parish ministry in 1966; however I never had any desire to discontinue it. (Of course after age 62 I was to begin receiving a pension for the eight years of parish ministry.)
Between the fifth and sixth days I spent an aggregate of ten years with a serious commitment to the C of S, but the last eight seemed considerably less meaningful than the first two had been: I now had a house in the suburbs, my family around me, and a 9 to 5 job in town, and these things took most of the energy that for a brief period I had concentrated on the church. Just as Larry Mead had predicted, Ellie adapted readily to the new scene, got a good job, and we became fairly ordinary denizens of the government metropolis. For ten years! At the end of the decade what had been fresh, bright, and beautiful for me had become stale and commonplace, and the congestion, and other down sides of metropolitan living were beginning to wear on me heavily. (But that was near the end of the sixth day!)
The Gateway Mission was, over that period, a primary source of meaning. Ellie and I had a substantial commitment to Mary Anders, the lovely lady from Spartanburg, and to Phil Warner, the old Methodist who had tried to move up spiritually. These were the ones remaining in the group when our time there was up.
Mary had always seemed to me about the most gracious and charming of all the lovely women at the church. Like Louise Baker (although 25 years younger) Mary had come to Washington as a young girl and had spent a long career in government service. In fact I believe she worked for Congress most or all of the time. At the end she was in the Congressional Budget Office.
She had met and married Russ Anders, a young lawyer from Alabama, and they had lived together for 20 years when he died of stomach cancer. Thereafter she remained a widow, although plenty of men were ready to share their lives with her: one from Montevideo, another (very rich man) from California, etc.
With such a vital professional life Mary's time and energy did not allow her as conspicuous a commitment to the church as some of the members afforded. As long as we knew her, Mary's primary assignment had been to prepare and serve coffee in the dining room after the Sunday morning service. This continued after the New Land exodus because Gordon decided to have an "ecumenical service' at Headquarters every Sunday, at which he usually preached. (When it got right down to it, he found he wasn't ready to give up his special role in the church.)
I remembered Mary from earliest times. Unlike most people there she was a southerner and had all the best of southern ways, including an outstanding ability to make a man feel special and affirmed. I'm sure that her special place (she was one of the earlier members) and calling had something to do with Gordon's decision to allow us to remain as an ecumenical mission group. She was our 'prior' a good part of the time, and we wound up meeting at her apartment on Connecticut Ave as often as not.
Mary came into Gateway a few months before Russ died, so we were her spiritual family during the trauma of his death. I didn't think that we gave her much during that time, but she stuck with us and became the soul of our mission group. She was probably the second full member of the group (after Louise), since Sherry Stycker had departed to Dayspring by that time.
Mary was always one of those that Ellie and I both thought most highly of. When we retired to SC, we would have loved for her to come back there, too, but she would have none of the idea. She had left Spartanburg as a young girl and felt little or no attachment to the place. She did have a brother there, who died about 1990, and at that time we went to Spartanburg and spent some time with her.
Phil Warner was as different from Mary as one could be. When we first went to Washington, he was married to Eleanor Warner, a lady I never got acquainted with, but their marriage broke up soon afterward. I believe she was a church member, but she soon left the church and made a commitment to Scientology--a disaster most of us thought! Phil went through bereavement with some outstanding support from Dorothy Cresswell, who had been a mission group member. It was after these events that he came into our life.
I had been around the church for a year or so when I became aware of him as a potential member of Gateway. We needed members; it was a matter of survival. The church people were rapidly dispersing to the six faith communities. I surmised that Phil had nowhere to go, and I invited him to join our group. That he seemed happy to do. Phil had (and still has) a financial problem. I think he has probably always had a hard time living within his income and a tendency to incur debt, which of course makes things worse. This unfortunate tendency had a significant bearing on his relationship to the church--and likely on the outcome of his two marriages as well.
Phil had been on the edge of the church for 15 years at that time. To be an intern member at the C of S one was expected to contribute at least 5% of one's income, and this Phil found hard or impossible to do. And to become a member it was 10%, which probably seemed to him far beyond the bounds of possibility.
Nevertheless he achieved this goal a few years after joining our group. And made the statement that it was easier to live tithing than before tithing!
A number of people were involved in Gateway in the beginning; Jedd and Sydney Johnson were special friends of Gordon--and unusual people. Jedd had been elected to Congress, from Oklahoma, at the age of 24. He served only one term, and sort of hung around Washington thereafter. He started an association of ex-Congressmen and did some creative things with it.
Sydney, Jedd's wife, was a seminary graduate and the daughter of a Congressman. I never expected to be close to these people, having less in common with them than with many at the church, but at the critical time they threw in their lot with Gateway. We had several meetings at their house, planning how we might become and continue as a group in the New Land. At one of these Gordon came. He told us he would not favor our becoming an ecumenical faith community, and he suggested we become a mission group.
So that's what happened. (I think there may have been two ecumenical mission groups, both swimming against the stream of the New Land.) Some in the councils of the church felt that we should not be allowed to add new members, but Gordon once again came to our rescue at that point.
Jedd and Sydney took an active part in the Mission group for a couple of years. Jedd got a vision of starting a 'Potters House-like place on Capitol Hill, and we all supported it and made financial contributions to it. He looked for a place on Pa. Ave, but finally cooled on the idea, and the project fell through.
Soon thereafter they left the mission group, and it wasn't long before they moved to a Lutheran church in their neighborhood; they felt that the needs of their two daughters required that they seek a more family oriented church. That was probably a wise decision: one thing you could not say about the Church of the Saviour is that it was a family oriented church. Everyone's energies were so fully committed to adult type missions that little was left to minister to the church's children. There were very, very few second generation members at the church. I'm sorry to say that even though I deplored that situation, I was caught up in it.(Jedd Johnson died in 1993. We were long away and just heard about it via the grapevine.)
Larry Mead was present at some of the earlier meetings of the "New Land" Gateway, but he did not hang around very long. Betsy Groomes was the key member of Gateway during the transition. Betsey was young to middle aged; she had had a couple of abortive romances but never married. We all thought it was a shame; she would certainly make some man a fine wife. Betsy was six feet tall and very bright, both of which militated against her finding a husband. But a bright and secure man named Jim came along--about 5 ft 6. They hit it off well and were married. We lost Betsy soon afterward because Jim took her out to Palo Alto; he did some sort of very important technical work. We were happy for Betsey but felt a great loss for the mission group.
During this period Ellie and I got a chance to teach two classes in the School of Christian Living. (I don't remember what school it was, whether the "Old Land" school or one of the faith communities. At one of these Betsy served as the shepherd--an additional church member who kind of makes herself generally helpful. Betsy was one of the few people at the church who had a good understanding of our particular gifts and affirmed them. She referred to us as "community builders".
She was right! That has always been our main gift. Looking back as far as Millers Creek where I established the "groups of Twelve". That was probably not good church politics, because some members not in the groups probably resented them, but we achieved a level of reality in those groups which was missing from most of the church activities. In Winston Salem it was the Cutting Edge; then in Washington Gateway--and the Second Step.
At Langley Friends it was the Twelfth Step; then at Greenville the meeting, which we largely convened. I've come to believe that encouraging people to relate to one another at a deep (confessional) level is one of the most important things anyone can do.
At one of those classes Ellie and I taught at the C of S. two homosexuals appeared. This was a tricky business for me. We affirmed them as we did all the students. They were disposed to "come out of the closet" and there were some discussions about their homosexuality. One of them--the one who confessed he was a homosexual, proved to be the son of a Methodist District Superintendent. I gathered that his sexual choice may have been related to deep animosity toward his father. In that situation we tried to affirm those boys as human beings and as friends, without endorsing their homosexuality.
That has remained my basic stance. In the Society of Friends there are many--perhaps the marjority in some meetings, who believe that homosexuality is a perfectly acceptable and praiseworthy way to live. I don't think I will ever believe that, but I want to affirm them as human beings, and by no means consider them any more sinful than I am myself--in different ways!
During the years of our association with the church we belonged to the Gateway Mission group , but the real action, our mission and ministry for several years was focused on the Second Step. This grew out of Gateway, as explained in the Fifth Day. After we moved to Arlington the Second Step started meeting at our house one night a week.
Repeating a paragraph from the last chapter Russ Woodgate, Janet Mallone, Bob McGillivray, Kathy Franklin, Alice Benson were the primary members of the Second Step besides Ellie and me. Larry Mead was tempted to become a part of this effort, but he somehow never quite brought himself to it. This group began some time in 1975.
The Second Step was a sharing group, made up largely of younger people who had come to the church recently and were not ready for a more strenuous commitment. After a couple of years it began to seem like a dead end to me, and I let it lapse, but at least three of the group became members of the C of S--three girls who married 3 young men at the church: Janet married Dan Baker, and unfortunately some years later Dan decided to be a Catholic. I don't know what effect that had on the marriage. Andrea married a very nice young man with considerable spiritual experience. Alice became manager of Potters House and married one of the Fitch boys.
I was especially proud of her, remembering that she probably began her service career at Potters House with the Second Step. That was ironic: in my first months at Potters House I had begun recruiting young people for service there, but Gordon turned up his nose at those efforts; the rules required it to be manned by members and interns. I could foresee that the older members were ready to move on to new things. It did fall upon bad times and a couple of years later they were willing to let the Second Step man Potters House on Thursday nights: that's where Alice got her initial experience.
We spent most or all of the sixth day living in the house in Arlington. I was working at NHTSA in 1976, but a couple of years later I moved over to EPA where I remained until retirement. Ellie soon saw that we needed money so she set out to supplement our income. She got a job in the Kindergarden at Mt. Olivet, the large Methodist church where Rob's scout troop was based. She stayed there one year and then got a part time job with the census bureau.
One of the first things she did with her new money was to buy a new baby blue Datsun 210 station wagon. She knew that she must have reliable transportation for that job. This was the first new car we had ever owned. I never felt financially able to drive a new car, and probably still wouldn't. But eventually I more or less turned over such practical decisions to her. She encouraged me to buy the little Colt, which I used for several years and gave to Paul when we retired. At that point we bought the luxurious Nissan van, cost-$12,500. And we understood that we would probably never make such a purchase again.
After a few years with the Census Bureau Ellie began a distinguished career at the Defense Mapping Agency. Defense always had the cream of the taxpayers' dollar, and Ellie was on a fast track. Grade-wise she soon passed me. They gave her considerable and valuable training in computer skills. She managed a mainframe for them. During those years I had a home computer and spent a good bit of time with it, but she would barely touch it; she had enough of computers on the job. After we retired she began using one of our home computers to write letters, and later to work on her genealogy.
The C of S was (and is) a beautiful place (it's chief attraction to me, now as then, is the beautiful people!), but I simply couldn't make it my spiritual home as some of our dear friends seem to have done. After ten years there I had enough and over of the authoritarian spirit, to which many seemed oblivious. Ellie became disenchanted at what she thought a disreputable decision of the leadership, and we prepared to depart. That was made easy by the fact that one had to renew membership every October or drop out. In 1983 we decided not to renew membership . I don't think it led to much or any trauma; in fact it's a quite common occurrence (people generally say that they can't meet the commitment. I don't think I ever heard anyone except me express dissatisfaction with the church.)
In later years I came to see Larry's behavior and attitudes as reflecting the "Martha complex": Martha knocks herself out, but then can't tolerate the idea that others don't do as much. (George Newkirk of Ocala was another notable example of that, and even understood that he was a 'Martha'; he had probably been told by someone with sufficient emphasis for him to remember it. Will Larry wind up as another George?)
Larry became disgruntled with me, with Gateway, and with the whole business some time in 1976. I think it was another instance of his favorite game. Things came to a head in the Mission Group. Shortly before Christmas Larry was moaning emphatically about having to go home for Christmas: he didn't want to go home and always found it a humiliating experience. I began to tell him just as emphatically that he did not have to go home; if he went home it was his decision and he should bear responsibility for it; he shouldn't moan about 'having to do it'. Larry couldn't hear this and must have decided that I was not his friend. He cooled on me personally and became awkward, almost sullen in the Mission Group.
Ellie had remained in Winston-Salem during my second year in Washington because Paul was in his last year in high school. He graduated in May of 1976 and continued to live in Winston-Salem. I suppose he had deeper roots there than other members of the family; in particular he had no inclination or desire at that point to trust his fortune to us and to Northern Virginia.
Left on his own after graduation Paul made his own way, lived several places, sometimes with high school friends, and after a few years on the estate of Mrs. John Whitaker, a very wealthy woman.
Even before the family moved, Bob McGillivray had begun to share the house with us. Bob was another of the 'waifs' I befriended at the C of S. Somehow my ministry usually seemed to focus on the people whom I perceived as needing friends. Bob was definitely such a person.
For several months I had noticed Bob at Potters House, sitting at a table by himself reading a book, for an hour or two each Thursday night. Eventually I had some conversation with him and found he was as open to relationship as anyone I had encountered. He just wasn't very outgoing; in fact I considered him timid in the extreme. But he had a good mind (Phd in Economics) and plenty of creative thoughts to share.
We soon developed a close friendship. One weekend Ellie was there, the three of us sitting at a table at Potters House, and we found ourselves inviting Bob to share the house with us. So Bob and I moved in a week or so before the family came up.
It was a convenient arrangement, and there were no undue pressures--at first. But during the summer Bob had his four children from Seattle for an extended visit; that put a little more stress on the Clayton family than we had anticipated. 5 McGillivrays and 4 Claytons was more than a houseful. Things rocked along, and most of the children went back to their mother; I think one may have stayed a while longer. And eventually Bob moved back to the District.
Once again I had found that 'community is hell'. It's always a trade off. Good things happen, and bad things. I remembered an incident at the Ritz when Jim Cregar and I had sole possession of the apartment, but Byron was spending considerable time with us. Ellie came up for a weekend. That was okay with Jim, but then we had an idea to have Byron bring his children for the weekend, and also stay at the apartment.
Naturally Jim had a right of veto of such a proposal. We asked him, he thought about it and then said, "Okay, I want them to come more than I don't want them to come." Community perhaps always brings ambiguity and ambivalence. It puts a strain on one; at best there are growing pains. We have carried out many experiments and attempts at community of many different sorts; many have failed, but none have been cause for regret.
Our next housemate in Arlington was Perry King, a country boy from some rural town north of Winston-Salem. We were all naturally drawn to Perry when he showed up at the church. He was a radical idealist, had gone through the usual fundamentalist disillusionment, and was seeking spiritual values like so many of the young people who gravitated to the church.
I guess Perry probably spent some time at Gateway, and then Carole Brown, in the Dayspring Mission group at the time, arranged for me to lead a silent retreat. Sally Smelzer, another young friend, and Perry were two of the retreatants. I appreciated Carole's sponsorship and also the fact that my retreat had much less attendance than many. However it was a great experience; at the end of it Sally decided she wanted to be baptized. Perry decided he did, too. He had already been baptized, but felt he had gone past that and wanted to start over. It was a great experience to baptize those two young people in the lake at Dayspring, and as far as I was concerned, made the retreat an outstanding success.
In 1961, when we moved from Louisiana to Millers Creek, I had transferred my official connection with the Methodist Church to the Western North Carolina Conference. After five years at Millers Creek for the next 10 years I received a special appointment as a probation officer and then in 1975 and 76 to the Church of the Saviour (without salary of course).
In 1977 a black bishop assumed leadership of the conference. One morning, out of the blue, the phone rang and my new district superintendent (completely unknown to me) rather summarily informed me that I must take a parish appointment or locate. He seemed to want an immediate answer. I told him I would be in touch with him.
Many people under such circumstances would simply give up their professional relationship (I could name several acquaintances who had been forced or inclined to do that). But as a second generation Methodist minister I had no such intention. I phoned my old pastor, Orion Hutchinson, who was then in Asheville and arranged a meeting with him. He simply took steps to have me transferred to Asheville--to his church in fact.
Then I wrote the Winston-Salem District Superintendent that he need no longer bother about me.
The bishop was putting pressure on the conference to cut down on all these special appointments. In another year I had a total of 20 years and was therefore eligible to retire, which I did. The relationship with the church has been largely meaningless since I left the parish ministry in 1966; however I never had any desire to discontinue it. (Of course after age 62 I was to begin receiving a pension for the eight years of parish ministry.)
Between the fifth and sixth days I spent an aggregate of ten years with a serious commitment to the C of S, but the last eight seemed considerably less meaningful than the first two had been: I now had a house in the suburbs, my family around me, and a 9 to 5 job in town, and these things took most of the energy that for a brief period I had concentrated on the church. Just as Larry Mead had predicted, Ellie adapted readily to the new scene, got a good job, and we became fairly ordinary denizens of the government metropolis. For ten years! At the end of the decade what had been fresh, bright, and beautiful for me had become stale and commonplace, and the congestion, and other down sides of metropolitan living were beginning to wear on me heavily. (But that was near the end of the sixth day!)
The Gateway Mission was, over that period, a primary source of meaning. Ellie and I had a substantial commitment to Mary Anders, the lovely lady from Spartanburg, and to Phil Warner, the old Methodist who had tried to move up spiritually. These were the ones remaining in the group when our time there was up.
Mary had always seemed to me about the most gracious and charming of all the lovely women at the church. Like Louise Baker (although 25 years younger) Mary had come to Washington as a young girl and had spent a long career in government service. In fact I believe she worked for Congress most or all of the time. At the end she was in the Congressional Budget Office.
She had met and married Russ Anders, a young lawyer from Alabama, and they had lived together for 20 years when he died of stomach cancer. Thereafter she remained a widow, although plenty of men were ready to share their lives with her: one from Montevideo, another (very rich man) from California, etc.
With such a vital professional life Mary's time and energy did not allow her as conspicuous a commitment to the church as some of the members afforded. As long as we knew her, Mary's primary assignment had been to prepare and serve coffee in the dining room after the Sunday morning service. This continued after the New Land exodus because Gordon decided to have an "ecumenical service' at Headquarters every Sunday, at which he usually preached. (When it got right down to it, he found he wasn't ready to give up his special role in the church.)
I remembered Mary from earliest times. Unlike most people there she was a southerner and had all the best of southern ways, including an outstanding ability to make a man feel special and affirmed. I'm sure that her special place (she was one of the earlier members) and calling had something to do with Gordon's decision to allow us to remain as an ecumenical mission group. She was our 'prior' a good part of the time, and we wound up meeting at her apartment on Connecticut Ave as often as not.
Mary came into Gateway a few months before Russ died, so we were her spiritual family during the trauma of his death. I didn't think that we gave her much during that time, but she stuck with us and became the soul of our mission group. She was probably the second full member of the group (after Louise), since Sherry Stycker had departed to Dayspring by that time.
Mary was always one of those that Ellie and I both thought most highly of. When we retired to SC, we would have loved for her to come back there, too, but she would have none of the idea. She had left Spartanburg as a young girl and felt little or no attachment to the place. She did have a brother there, who died about 1990, and at that time we went to Spartanburg and spent some time with her.
Phil Warner was as different from Mary as one could be. When we first went to Washington, he was married to Eleanor Warner, a lady I never got acquainted with, but their marriage broke up soon afterward. I believe she was a church member, but she soon left the church and made a commitment to Scientology--a disaster most of us thought! Phil went through bereavement with some outstanding support from Dorothy Cresswell, who had been a mission group member. It was after these events that he came into our life.
I had been around the church for a year or so when I became aware of him as a potential member of Gateway. We needed members; it was a matter of survival. The church people were rapidly dispersing to the six faith communities. I surmised that Phil had nowhere to go, and I invited him to join our group. That he seemed happy to do. Phil had (and still has) a financial problem. I think he has probably always had a hard time living within his income and a tendency to incur debt, which of course makes things worse. This unfortunate tendency had a significant bearing on his relationship to the church--and likely on the outcome of his two marriages as well.
Phil had been on the edge of the church for 15 years at that time. To be an intern member at the C of S one was expected to contribute at least 5% of one's income, and this Phil found hard or impossible to do. And to become a member it was 10%, which probably seemed to him far beyond the bounds of possibility.
Nevertheless he achieved this goal a few years after joining our group. And made the statement that it was easier to live tithing than before tithing!
A number of people were involved in Gateway in the beginning; Jedd and Sydney Johnson were special friends of Gordon--and unusual people. Jedd had been elected to Congress, from Oklahoma, at the age of 24. He served only one term, and sort of hung around Washington thereafter. He started an association of ex-Congressmen and did some creative things with it.
Sydney, Jedd's wife, was a seminary graduate and the daughter of a Congressman. I never expected to be close to these people, having less in common with them than with many at the church, but at the critical time they threw in their lot with Gateway. We had several meetings at their house, planning how we might become and continue as a group in the New Land. At one of these Gordon came. He told us he would not favor our becoming an ecumenical faith community, and he suggested we become a mission group.
So that's what happened. (I think there may have been two ecumenical mission groups, both swimming against the stream of the New Land.) Some in the councils of the church felt that we should not be allowed to add new members, but Gordon once again came to our rescue at that point.
Jedd and Sydney took an active part in the Mission group for a couple of years. Jedd got a vision of starting a 'Potters House-like place on Capitol Hill, and we all supported it and made financial contributions to it. He looked for a place on Pa. Ave, but finally cooled on the idea, and the project fell through.
Soon thereafter they left the mission group, and it wasn't long before they moved to a Lutheran church in their neighborhood; they felt that the needs of their two daughters required that they seek a more family oriented church. That was probably a wise decision: one thing you could not say about the Church of the Saviour is that it was a family oriented church. Everyone's energies were so fully committed to adult type missions that little was left to minister to the church's children. There were very, very few second generation members at the church. I'm sorry to say that even though I deplored that situation, I was caught up in it.(Jedd Johnson died in 1993. We were long away and just heard about it via the grapevine.)
Larry Mead was present at some of the earlier meetings of the "New Land" Gateway, but he did not hang around very long. Betsy Groomes was the key member of Gateway during the transition. Betsey was young to middle aged; she had had a couple of abortive romances but never married. We all thought it was a shame; she would certainly make some man a fine wife. Betsy was six feet tall and very bright, both of which militated against her finding a husband. But a bright and secure man named Jim came along--about 5 ft 6. They hit it off well and were married. We lost Betsy soon afterward because Jim took her out to Palo Alto; he did some sort of very important technical work. We were happy for Betsey but felt a great loss for the mission group.
During this period Ellie and I got a chance to teach two classes in the School of Christian Living. (I don't remember what school it was, whether the "Old Land" school or one of the faith communities. At one of these Betsy served as the shepherd--an additional church member who kind of makes herself generally helpful. Betsy was one of the few people at the church who had a good understanding of our particular gifts and affirmed them. She referred to us as "community builders".
She was right! That has always been our main gift. Looking back as far as Millers Creek where I established the "groups of Twelve". That was probably not good church politics, because some members not in the groups probably resented them, but we achieved a level of reality in those groups which was missing from most of the church activities. In Winston Salem it was the Cutting Edge; then in Washington Gateway--and the Second Step.
At Langley Friends it was the Twelfth Step; then at Greenville the meeting, which we largely convened. I've come to believe that encouraging people to relate to one another at a deep (confessional) level is one of the most important things anyone can do.
At one of those classes Ellie and I taught at the C of S. two homosexuals appeared. This was a tricky business for me. We affirmed them as we did all the students. They were disposed to "come out of the closet" and there were some discussions about their homosexuality. One of them--the one who confessed he was a homosexual, proved to be the son of a Methodist District Superintendent. I gathered that his sexual choice may have been related to deep animosity toward his father. In that situation we tried to affirm those boys as human beings and as friends, without endorsing their homosexuality.
That has remained my basic stance. In the Society of Friends there are many--perhaps the marjority in some meetings, who believe that homosexuality is a perfectly acceptable and praiseworthy way to live. I don't think I will ever believe that, but I want to affirm them as human beings, and by no means consider them any more sinful than I am myself--in different ways!
During the years of our association with the church we belonged to the Gateway Mission group , but the real action, our mission and ministry for several years was focused on the Second Step. This grew out of Gateway, as explained in the Fifth Day. After we moved to Arlington the Second Step started meeting at our house one night a week.
Repeating a paragraph from the last chapter Russ Woodgate, Janet Mallone, Bob McGillivray, Kathy Franklin, Alice Benson were the primary members of the Second Step besides Ellie and me. Larry Mead was tempted to become a part of this effort, but he somehow never quite brought himself to it. This group began some time in 1975.
The Second Step was a sharing group, made up largely of younger people who had come to the church recently and were not ready for a more strenuous commitment. After a couple of years it began to seem like a dead end to me, and I let it lapse, but at least three of the group became members of the C of S--three girls who married 3 young men at the church: Janet married Dan Baker, and unfortunately some years later Dan decided to be a Catholic. I don't know what effect that had on the marriage. Andrea married a very nice young man with considerable spiritual experience. Alice became manager of Potters House and married one of the Fitch boys.
I was especially proud of her, remembering that she probably began her service career at Potters House with the Second Step. That was ironic: in my first months at Potters House I had begun recruiting young people for service there, but Gordon turned up his nose at those efforts; the rules required it to be manned by members and interns. I could foresee that the older members were ready to move on to new things. It did fall upon bad times and a couple of years later they were willing to let the Second Step man Potters House on Thursday nights: that's where Alice got her initial experience.
We spent most or all of the sixth day living in the house in Arlington. I was working at NHTSA in 1976, but a couple of years later I moved over to EPA where I remained until retirement. Ellie soon saw that we needed money so she set out to supplement our income. She got a job in the Kindergarden at Mt. Olivet, the large Methodist church where Rob's scout troop was based. She stayed there one year and then got a part time job with the census bureau.
One of the first things she did with her new money was to buy a new baby blue Datsun 210 station wagon. She knew that she must have reliable transportation for that job. This was the first new car we had ever owned. I never felt financially able to drive a new car, and probably still wouldn't. But eventually I more or less turned over such practical decisions to her. She encouraged me to buy the little Colt, which I used for several years and gave to Paul when we retired. At that point we bought the luxurious Nissan van, cost-$12,500. And we understood that we would probably never make such a purchase again.
After a few years with the Census Bureau Ellie began a distinguished career at the Defense Mapping Agency. Defense always had the cream of the taxpayers' dollar, and Ellie was on a fast track. Grade-wise she soon passed me. They gave her considerable and valuable training in computer skills. She managed a mainframe for them. During those years I had a home computer and spent a good bit of time with it, but she would barely touch it; she had enough of computers on the job. After we retired she began using one of our home computers to write letters, and later to work on her genealogy.
The C of S was (and is) a beautiful place (it's chief attraction to me, now as then, is the beautiful people!), but I simply couldn't make it my spiritual home as some of our dear friends seem to have done. After ten years there I had enough and over of the authoritarian spirit, to which many seemed oblivious. Ellie became disenchanted at what she thought a disreputable decision of the leadership, and we prepared to depart. That was made easy by the fact that one had to renew membership every October or drop out. In 1983 we decided not to renew membership . I don't think it led to much or any trauma; in fact it's a quite common occurrence (people generally say that they can't meet the commitment. I don't think I ever heard anyone except me express dissatisfaction with the church.)
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