Chapter 1: MYF Leader

Marilyn Grant tried to hide her nervousness as Mr. Schmidt called the September ‘73 MYF meeting to order. Well, there were ten girls counting her and only seven boys. Still, she wanted to persuade them to follow her platform, not win on a simple sex-preference vote.

“Welcome to the Aldersgate UMC chapter of United Methodist Youth,” Mr. Schmidt started off. She thought his words hadn’t changed since last year. “I’m presiding until you elect a new president. Then you won’t hear another word from me. You’re supposed to run your own organization.

“There will be nominations which have to be seconded. Then we will have a secret ballot. I ask both candidates to vote for themselves. Some groups have the policy of candidates voting for the other guy, but that can lead to problems and -- even if it doesn’t – it is hypocrisy. If the result isn’t what you expect, then it can’t be the other candidate voting for himself, because you expect him to vote for himself. And, after all, if you actually thought he’d do a better job, you wouldn’t run.

“All right. Nominations.”

Diane nominated her, with Rita seconding. Bob nominated Edwin with Kirk seconding. Mr. Schmidt called on her to make the first speech.

“Look, we all complain about people not treating us as the adults we are. There was a Northwestern Freshman visiting the church last week, and the church adults treated her as an adult. Well, some of us are going to be college freshmen next year. Will they treat us as adults? Don’t ... hold ... your ... breath!

“Well, my dad is always saying ‘handsome is as handsome does.’ I tell you, ‘adult is as adult does.’ As long as we, as a group, sit around letting the older people handle all the work in the church, they are still going to think of us as little kids.

“And one or two of us can’t change that, but we all can by working together. I went to the last clean-up day before Easter. My mom got extra credit for bringing little Marilyn. Rita worked too and had the same experience. What would happen if -- instead of a couple of individual teens in family groups -- a whole bunch of us showed up as a team. And, boys, don’t shrink away in fear that someone will ask you to use a dust cloth. There is outside work, raking and digging and that sort of stuff.

“Anyway, that’s what I want to lead the MYF to do this year -- not all of it. We’ll still have our meetings and games and conversations. But for a few times a year, we should show up as a work team. Then they’ll respect us as people who pull their weight.

“Thank you.” And she sat down.

Edwin got up and made a speech. It was much more polished than hers had been, but it suggested nothing new. She ‘won’ nine to eight. It was a secret ballot, but everybody in the room knew who had voted for which candidates. Melissa had voted for Edwin, her steady. All the other girls had voted for her. And all the boys had voted for Edwin.

“And now,” Mr. Schmidt began, “I’ll turn the gavel over to your...”

“Second my motion,” she whispered to Diane. Then she used her carrying voice. “Mr. Schmidt ... Before that ... I’d like to make another motion.” He nodded. “I’d like ... I move to nominate Edwin Johnson as Chapter Vice President.” Diane, confused as anybody but loyal, seconded her. With no other nominations -- the office had never existed before -- it passed with a voice vote. Then she got up and ran the rest of the meeting. She’d won the election, but she’d lost the vote. Nobody had been persuaded by her speech.

She tried to explain that to Colin after the movie on their next date. He didn’t see it.

“You won, sweetheart. You’re the president of that group. They have to do what you say. Relax. Don’t worry about the past now.” But she did worry about things. It took her right out of the mood. Soon, she straightened up, rehooked her bra, and buttoned her blouse. Colin wasn’t pleased, but he put a cheerful face on taking her home.

“Something wrong?” Mom asked. Marilyn was home much earlier than usual.

“No. Well, nothing wrong with Colin. I just felt gloomy.” Mom looked dubious, but let it go.

And the October meeting went okay. The 15 in attendance had fun. Things were going all right for her until Mom came home from an UMW meeting on Saturday.

“You’re not going to like this,” she said when Marilyn got home from her date. Marilyn braced. She was decently dressed. What had she done wrong? “They announced at the UMW meeting that rummage set-up will be Wednesday night this time -- the second Wednesday of the month.” That was MYF night.

“Can they do that?”

“I don’t know. After all, you could call the monthly MYF meeting a regularly-scheduled event and those are supposed to take precedence. You might call the rummage sale regularly-scheduled, too. But a new set-up time isn’t regularly scheduled. On the other hand, do you want an ugly fight? And an ugly fight about poor people getting the clothes they need and missions getting a little support?”

“Mom, I can’t change the meeting schedule. We’re a democratic group. We voted on the meeting schedule for the year last month. I’m president of the group, not the queen.”

“And the schedule -- the entire design -- of the rummage sale was democratically assigned to a committee which chose that day for set-up. I raised the issue, but it had already been settled.”

And, the next day at coffee hour, the announcement was made. That was the end of it. She decided the next day that she’d ask Mr. Schmidt what she should do. She could talk after church the next Sunday. But, before she did, Dad passed a letter to her at dinner Friday.

“That copy is addressed to me, but it certainly isn’t intended to be private.”

Dear Mrs. Benton, I would be glad to help set up tables for the rummage sale. However, the room won’t be available until the MYF meeting, which occurs on that night, is over. Please have Marilyn Grant, the president of MYF, call me when that meeting is over. I’ll come to help set up then, however late.

The original had been signed by Mr. Pierce.

“He’s wonderful.” At last, one of the adults didn’t think that they were little kids.

“He sent a cover letter suggesting that the fathers of MYF kids send similar letters. I don’t know. Your mother wouldn’t be able to attend another UMW meting.”

“We didn’t start the fight. Indeed, if they had merely asked, we could have moved the meeting. The problem is that we didn’t hear about it in time. The MYF can’t make a decision until that time. I was going to ask Mr. Schmidt what we should do. Can we reschedule? I don’t think I have that power; maybe he does.”

“Well, wait a week and see what happens.” Dad was a great believer in putting things off, and sometimes Mom complained about that. This time, however, it seemed wise. Sunday, she did talk to Mr. Schmidt, who thought waiting a week made perfect sense.

“And, after all Marilyn, it’s not as if you rescheduled the meeting to fit your needs. Talk to Edwin. You made him vice president; invent an executive committee. If you can persuade him that meeting on the third Wednesday makes sense, then nobody is going to object. Following the rules is all very well -- it’s necessary, really -- but you don’t follow them off a cliff.”

Astonishingly, the UMW blinked. Set-up was delayed until Thursday night. So, they had the meeting on the second Wednesday. She made one announcement about the problem.

“As many of you know, there was a problem when the UMW scheduled rummage sale set-up for tonight. They were persuaded to reschedule. On the other hand, they need help with the tables. If some strong boys would show up tomorrow night to work, I’d be very grateful. And they’d see that we are a group that they should cooperate with. Please, come tomorrow night -- as soon after six as possible.”

Rita got her boyfriend, Doug, to come. At first, she thought he would be the only one. Then a new guy, Andy, came in. That was all, but -- with Mr. Pierce and Mr. Hagopian -- it was enough. Set up went smoothly, but she still hadn’t persuaded anybody to see the MYF as contributors to the church -- not even the MYF. Rita and Doug were doing favors. Maybe Andy was a convert. When the tables were all up, she thanked Mr. Pierce and went over to Andy to thank him.

“It was so nice of you to come.”

“Hey! It was an MYF project, right?” He had a nice voice, a nice face and a nice body, too. Andy had a little of the reputation of a nerd, but it didn’t show up close. She should find something for him to do in the organization. “And,” he said, “you got the meeting protected. It’s the least we can do to support you.”

“That was Mr. Pierce. He got the meeting protected, I mean. Anyway, thank you.” She’d already said that once. Wasn’t there anything else she could say. At that point, though, Mr. Pierce came over.

“Mr. Pierce, I can’t say how grateful I am.”

“Nothing. You guys on foot? Stick around until Carolyn gets out of choir practice, and I’ll give you rides home.” She was about to say that he’d already done enough, but refusing the ride might sound ungrateful. Then, too, she didn’t know how far Andy had to walk. If she refused, a macho boy would have to. By the time she got to that thought, Mr. Pierce was already out the door. That left one person to deal with.

“New at school, aren’t you?” she asked. “Where’re you from?”

“Chicago. Dad got promoted and bought a new house. To be honest, I’d wanted to finish out my last year at Gordon Tech.”

“Finding the classes harder?” The reputation of Evanston Township High was that it outshone Chicago schools, and word was that this wasn’t a great accomplishment.

“Classes are the only thing about school I’m not finding hard. Is everybody as stuck up as they seem?” Stuck up? These were her friends. But she could see that they weren’t necessarily the most welcoming group in the world. They had their friendships.

“Not really. But your old school, how easy was it for a new senior to fit in?”

“You have a point.”

“We all know who is my friend. We all know who is my rival. And there are many groups. I don’t know how you talk to you until I know whether you’re going to support me or Edwin for the MYF presidency.”