Every summer, thousands of people gather on borrowed farmland to listen for God.We called it Convention.It smelled like hay and wet tights. It sounded like silence.This is the next chapter of Cultivated — now in full video and audio.I’ll tell you how it went down. And how it still goes.
Other than your meeting shed being a Quonset hut and not a wooden barn, well, and me being a guy, this is spot on. So much work done to repurpose a space meant for agriculture into a makeshift convention center with nearby lodging. The awful sound systems being a universal bugaboo was yet another way the meetings were the "the same all over the world."
Second to convention by us, seemed to be preps, or "b day" as they called it when I was a kid. Those two Saturdays in the weeks leading up to convention, where members flocked from nearby states to pull together old barns for showers and stays, set up benches and chairs for "meeting", erect a tent for dining, helped get one into "the spirit of convention." It also provided fodder to spiritualize and regale your meeting with later, recounting the holiest of your workday exploits in testimony the following Sunday morning. Good times.
This is a great read and I'm rubbing my hands together as I head to part 2.
Oh this made me smile— “the holiest of your workday exploits” is just too perfect. And those “B Days”…yes! My recall of them is from kid-view, so my writing on them has that vantage point but I love your recall on the solemn pride in the sacred art of bench moving. I’m so glad you’re here (Quonset huts and all). Enjoy part 2—things only get weirder. 😉
It's fascinating reading your description of the convention grounds, very identical to where we went. A long drive, well as a kid it was a long drive. The long winding driveway to the farm that was always hidden. Between states there were differences in bedding situations. I grew up in Victoria so it was always tents for females (mother's and daughters per tent) whereas men were in a big shed. We did use the caravan a few times when were younger. Once we moved to Queensland the bedding was in dorms in other words an old shed. hundreds of women setting out their various bits and pieces. Hair dryers and hair spray were frowned upon by some. Strangely my memory of convention in the 5-6 years before I stopped is very vague at best, spotty, compared to earlier years.
Thank you so much, Alissa. Your comment means a lot — especially today, of all days. I just read your Convention piece, and I’m still sitting with it. There’s so much resonance between our stories. I’ll share more in a restack, but I wanted to say here: I see you, and I’m grateful we found each other.
Other than your meeting shed being a Quonset hut and not a wooden barn, well, and me being a guy, this is spot on. So much work done to repurpose a space meant for agriculture into a makeshift convention center with nearby lodging. The awful sound systems being a universal bugaboo was yet another way the meetings were the "the same all over the world."
Second to convention by us, seemed to be preps, or "b day" as they called it when I was a kid. Those two Saturdays in the weeks leading up to convention, where members flocked from nearby states to pull together old barns for showers and stays, set up benches and chairs for "meeting", erect a tent for dining, helped get one into "the spirit of convention." It also provided fodder to spiritualize and regale your meeting with later, recounting the holiest of your workday exploits in testimony the following Sunday morning. Good times.
This is a great read and I'm rubbing my hands together as I head to part 2.
Oh this made me smile— “the holiest of your workday exploits” is just too perfect. And those “B Days”…yes! My recall of them is from kid-view, so my writing on them has that vantage point but I love your recall on the solemn pride in the sacred art of bench moving. I’m so glad you’re here (Quonset huts and all). Enjoy part 2—things only get weirder. 😉
It's fascinating reading your description of the convention grounds, very identical to where we went. A long drive, well as a kid it was a long drive. The long winding driveway to the farm that was always hidden. Between states there were differences in bedding situations. I grew up in Victoria so it was always tents for females (mother's and daughters per tent) whereas men were in a big shed. We did use the caravan a few times when were younger. Once we moved to Queensland the bedding was in dorms in other words an old shed. hundreds of women setting out their various bits and pieces. Hair dryers and hair spray were frowned upon by some. Strangely my memory of convention in the 5-6 years before I stopped is very vague at best, spotty, compared to earlier years.
Beautiful story! I look forward to part 2.
Thank you so much, Alissa. Your comment means a lot — especially today, of all days. I just read your Convention piece, and I’m still sitting with it. There’s so much resonance between our stories. I’ll share more in a restack, but I wanted to say here: I see you, and I’m grateful we found each other.