Faith and Friends From the Past

Tonight begins a three-day celebration in Anaheim, California. And I was supposed to have been there. But I just couldn't force myself into it. Not that it would have been necessarily bad. But, perhaps, uncomfortable. And not just for me -- but for others as well. It's a gathering of one heck of a group of great musicians....vocalists, instrumentalists, lighting and sound technicians, administrative and management personnel from, quite literally, around the globe. It's the 40th anniversary celebration of The Continentals (formerly the Continental Singers). They began in 1967 (I know, it's actually the 41st year) in Portland, Oregon, by a true visionary Cam Floria. And he's still the guy heading up the group. It's a Christian missionary sort of organization that sings, dances, has costume changes, and does all sorts of musical mission work around the world. The likes of Sandi Patty, Michael W. Smith, Amy Grant, The Winans, Steven Curtis Chapman and plenty of others were connected with The Continentals to some degree. I traveled in 1982, twice in 1983, 1986, 1993, and twice in 1994. I spent one tour as an assistant director and two as the director of the group. It carried me to more than 30 states and 30 countries including behind the former Iron Curtain to Estonia and Poland. Truly once in a lifetime experiences that could never be recaptured. Each tour was three months and we did a minimum of one concert per day, many times more. We were up at 4am and up until past midnight most every night. It was exhausting. We spent thousands of miles on buses each tour. And some of the greatest years of my life. I've written about a good friend from the group here; about the KGW and Christian espionage here; and even about a little hanky pank here (oh yeah, it happens). I had almost every experience you can imagine during my years with the group. And, I must say, mostly good. I was challenged, stretched, asked to push myself personally and musically, and learn more than I could have ever imagined. During the height of the group's popularity, there were 15 groups in the summer consisting of nearly 40 people in each group. I think I've done more than a thousand concerts in large and small churches, fair and rodeo grounds, outside in grassy areas, in battlefields, on airplanes and cruise ships, in front of monuments and memorials, and in homes. We spent nearly every night in the homes of those from the churches that hosted us. We ate more spaghetti, lasagna, and fried chicken than you can imagine in church basements.
And all the while, I was gay. I knew it. I have no idea if they knew it. It's one of those areas of my life that still brings me great joy when I hear the music or look at the pictures....and there are thousands. I've been able to reconnect with a few friends since my coming out. Most have been horribly understanding. A few have not -- for which I pity them. You see, I would have had to take my partner with me -- in fact, I'd want to....I wouldn't do it any other way. And I'm so forthright now that it would be "just the way it is" when I introduced him to my past -- strangers to him. I would expect nothing but warmth and smiles from them. And I have a feeling that's exactly what I'd receive. Because they are that kind of people -- good, solid, happy folks with tremendous energy and drive. Even if our faiths are horribly different now. In fact, dramatically varied in paths. Tonight as my honey and I were driving along the Columbia River in the hot summer heat with Mt. Hood in front of us, I remembered that tonight a couple thousand of my former buddies were gathering to celebrate and remember in Anaheim. And I got kind of melancholy. I sort of wish that we were there. To say hi, throw hugs, remember the many crazy times from the past 40 years, listen to great music, and to -- maybe -- even allow them the opportunity to see that there are other beautiful pieces of life beyond what our eyes can actually see. Way beyond life on a pew. I miss them. I hope they miss me too.