Several of us who had grown up in the MRA environment were privileged to be invited to take part in a musical show called Space is so Startling in the summer of 1963. The show had previously played at the Westminster Theatre in the West End of London and was headed for Boston. We met up with American teenagers who also took part in the show. America was a heady experience to this British boarder! It felt like everything was bigger, faster and more fun! It was like a whole new world. We travelled together in Grayhound buses to the UN in New York and Washington DC. We were also invited to spend a week at a beach house in Woods Hole on Cape Cod before flying to a large youth gathering on Mackinac Island. This was the first time I met up with Mike and his parents since they left Switzerland over 10 years previously. He was working on the barge which connected Mackinac with the mainland.
It was exciting to be one of the thousands of young people who were flocking to Mackinac. The British journalist and current leader of MRA, Peter Howard, had been touring US colleges speaking about the need for a “Design for Dedication”. They had come to learn about how to change and commit to this task. This was also a time of commitment for me and when I left the US that summer to finish my last year of boarding school it was after making a decision to live out a commitment to bring change in the world. I was also determined to continue as a part of all the exciting challenges with MRA in the US when I finished school.
There was one thing that jarred in my understanding of all that we were part of that summer. All the young people I met were verbally dedicated to bring change to their school, state and country but I was tongue-tied. I found that I had a hard time stringing two words together to express what I felt deep down. I knew what I wanted in my heart but with my multi-culture strategy to seek out how ‘things were done’ it took a long time before I was able to figure things out! There was not much questioning of the MRA lifestyle growing up. And that first year of boarding school had left its mark. It wasn’t hard to love this open, fun-loving lifestyle that I was experiencing in America. I was soon to learn that when I stopped being afraid of what others thought of me I could express what I wanted to say fearlessly and I found I had a lot to say.
My approach to new situations was with care or even apprehension. I habitually expected not to be liked or fit in. I could be hesitant to commit because of fear of missing out on something better.
I felt the constraints of the lifestyle I had been born into. For instance I didn’t think I could marry anyone from a different background as it would simply be too much to explain – too many bridges to cross. But I also doubted that I would find a husband because I didn’t think anyone could love or even like me. The experience from that first year at school was still on my backburner. For a long time I would go quiet or back down, as for a multi-culture-kid it takes time know what you think, let alone what to say. So although I am outwardly open, friendly and chatty I am quick to sense feelings of query, question, disbelief or even dislike even if they aren’t there.
By now I had applied and been accepted to the Westminster Hospital to train as a nurse the following year but if I was given a choice between the two, I knew my choice was to return to the US the following summer. I requested one year’s delay for my hospital training and got it.
During that year the Colwell Brothers, who I had known since I was a kid, came to Britain to immerse themselves in the new Liverpool sound. They bought electric guitars and ‘got into the groove’ in the basement of one of the MRA Charles Street homes. Although I had always enjoyed their singing, the songs they started to write now really appealed to me and my generation. This was the beginning of Sing Out which later became Up with People.
Penrhos College was divided into 5 houses: Ashcroft, Hovey, Mack, York and Adams. I was now house captain for Ash. The houses competed monthly and yearly in games, scholastics and behaviour and Ash was always at the bottom of the list in all fields. Once a month the house captain had to give a pep-talk to Ash members. That year I discovered I was good a motivational speaker! Month by month our points improved in games and behaviour and by the end of the year we won the house swimming and behaviour cups. It was exciting to see this change.
In the summer of 1964 I was on a plane with other Brits en route to Mackinac again. After the conference was over the participants who wanted to continue working with MRA during the summer were split up in action groups to different areas of the country. I was invited to Florida and when the summer came to an end and many of the Brits went home, I stayed, living at the amazing MRA home on Brickel Avenue on one side and the waterfront on the other. This was where Peter Howard and his team came before taking off for a tour in South America.
UWP by Ryan
Recently, I mentioned to someone that I was in Up with People. Their immediate reaction was, ’Isn’t that a cult?’ I could’ve just nodded and moved on, but instead, I shared my experience. That conversation turned out to be enlightening—for both of us.
If you’ve never heard of Up with People, it’s a global nonprofit that brings young adults together from around the world to tour internationally, perform uplifting musical shows, volunteer in communities, and live with host families. I was part of Cast C 95/96, and we traveled through North America, Europe, and Venezuela—a journey that reshaped how I see the world and myself.
Venezuela hit me hard. The culture shock was real. But so was the transformation. I was 20, idealistic, untested. And suddenly I was navigating foreign countries, staying with strangers, performing in unfamiliar places—and learning just how adaptable I could be.
I was the drummer for my cast, a role I poured myself into. After my student year, I was invited back as a fill-in drummer for three other casts, and those experiences were pure joy—less pressure, more presence, and a sense of rhythm that went far beyond music.
For me, the music wasn’t just part of the show—it was everything. I got to play nearly every day. I wrote more songs that year than I have before or since, many alongside Mike Woodard from Colorado, a fellow castmate and creative kindred spirit. We’d find cool corners of cities—stone archways, stairwells, abandoned stages—and just play. We created harmonies that felt like little moments of truth in a world that was always moving.
And then there were the people. The kind of friendships that only come from surviving something intense together. Life on tour was hard. Beautiful, but hard. And that’s where the lifelong bonds were forged—not just in the fun, but in the fatigue, the homesickness, the awkward host family dinners, the tears behind the smiles.
The Up with People alumni community is relatively small, but there’s an instant connection when you meet someone else who’s been through it. We share a language most people don’t speak—a language built on buses, backstage hugs, and emotional whiplash.
Let’s talk about the controversy. Critics call it a cult, accuse it of “toxic positivity,” and claim we were brainwashed into smiling through everything. I get where that comes from—but it’s off base.
Yes, there were rules. No drugs. No sex. Curfews. Codes of conduct. But those weren’t about control—they were about respect. We lived with host families. We represented the organization, our countries, and each other. The rules made the whole thing work. And no, drinking wasn’t banned. If you were of age in the country we were in, it was allowed. There was no dogma—just structure.
And the positivity? That wasn’t about pretending everything was perfect. It was about learning how to keep showing up when things weren’t. Tour life was exhausting. Culture shock was disorienting. We needed that positivity like oxygen. It was how we stayed open. How we held space for each other. It wasn’t toxic—it was transformative.
Most importantly, we weren’t worshipping anyone. There was no central figure pulling strings. What there was—was intention. A belief that music, empathy, and cultural exchange could build bridges where politics and fear failed. We were encouraged to ask questions, to struggle out loud, to grow.
I didn’t always love it. Some days I wanted to quit. But I learned something invaluable: I could handle more than I thought. I got through sticky, stressful moments in unfamiliar places, found my way, found myself. That kind of growth doesn’t come easy—and it doesn’t come often.
Up with People changed my life. All for the better. I still miss it. I miss the purpose, the rhythm, the wild moments of clarity. I miss feeling like I was part of something hopeful. Something that asked a lot—and gave back even more.
I wish everyone could experience something like that. Because if more people did, we might just live in a softer, wiser, more connected world.
Comments to use:
In Louisiana in “69” we were John Birchers and a cult many times. People simply had to put a label on us.
My daughter in law thinks UWP is a cult, too. A key ingredient of a cult, missing in UWP, worshiping a single person.
UWP is like a musical Peace CorpWhen I got home after ’68-’69 I went to bed and basically slept for a month. I got up for lunch and for supper, then I went to bed early. I had no idea that I was so exhausted, but it was a good tired, after having done well. The sixth week, I got a full time job and went back to college with a purpose. I have since enjoyed being at home wherever I happened to be
If someone wants to be a cult follower they will follow something, but the cultic driving force may come more in them than from what they’re following. In 1968 there was a deep need for purpose and direction. Some may have found a cult, but in UWP I found encouragement to keep looking forward, courage to step out into newness, and an ability to value people who were not like me.
Ryan thank you for putting a smile on my face and bringing back such wonderful memories! I remember the first time Many heard of UWP but still it was hard to explain. I was afraid to go on dates it was a transition but successful. My roommate shared experience at football games and proms. I shared my experiences traveling the world with people from so many countries who came together to share the same positive message thru music. I realized at such a young age how fortunate I was to be a part of such a wonderful group. I am now 74 but still have the memories locked inside me.
in motion) is certainly one adjective to describe UWP, but exhilarating is an even better adjective, at least for me. I took that spirit gain from UWP and served both my school and municipality communities for many years as a volunteer.
I believe that we still have daily opportunities to re-affirm the statement we said hundreds of times when we travelled…..”if all people were for people, there would be a lot less people to worry about and lot more people who care”
Sayres
Up with People US/Germany/CapeCod
MRA split
Back to Britain
It’s our Country Jack
Once when I was travelling on a train in Britain there was a man who asked me where I came from. He said he specialized in languages and had been listening to me chatting with my friends and wondered where I came from! In my usual style I delayed the reply – trying to figure out what this was all about. He went on to say that he could hear that I came from 12 different countries. I asked him which they were and of the 12 countries he listed I had lived in 11 eleven of them!
India Arise and India
Westminster Theatre
Alnäs – A-K o svensk politik
One evening in Oslo when I was 25, on my way home to visit my grandfather, aunt and uncle in Övre Ullern. I had taken the local tram or ‘trikk’ from town to Bekkestua and there was a very steep slope up from the train to walk up to the area where my grandfather lived. As I left the station I noticed a man lurking in the trees. I was apprehensive but there was no alternative so I headed up the path. I started to hear his tread on the path and heavy breathing as he gained on me halfway up. I waited as long as I dared before I thought he would grab me, then I took a tight hold of my big red shoulder bag and whirled on him yelling loudly. He stopped in his tracks and I kept screaming as I turned and ran the rest of the way up to the road, shocking him enough to give me time to make it up to the road shouting at the top of my lungs. He had stopped following me and people gave me strange looks as I continued up to my grandfather’s house. Had they heard me screaming? But apart from stares from the few people there nothing happened and I hurried home to my grandfather. I felt strangely ashamed. I became very afraid of the dark.
Nord Norge
Caux
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