They're Jehovah's Witnesses recalling the key symbolic experience in their spiritual lives--their baptism.
A single message emerges: Theirs is a faith that demands what most Americans would consider great personal sacrifice.
Jones, 88, says that since his baptism in 1953, when he was 35, he has sought to "read the Bible at least one hour every day" and to "witness to others" whenever he has the opportunity.
And 17-year-old Darcell, a recent high school graduate, said she can imagine nothing more important in her life than the mission of a Witness.
That duty, she says, is to communicate--to as many people as possible--her belief that the Bible provides answers to many of life's questions.
Sometimes the answers Witnesses find put them dramatically at odds with mainstream society.
A widely known example is how, historically, most members rejected blood transfusions, even when doing so meant risking life. The church has clarified its stance--members now may receive certain blood products (instead of whole blood).
Despite the recent interpretation regarding blood, Jones maintains that he and most Jehovah's Witnesses believe the Bible--and its informed study--can yield "all that we need to know in life."
Indeed, Jehovah's Witnesses--6.6 million worldwide, including a little more than 1 million in the United States--dedicate what others consider free time to studying the Bible and taking its messages of salvation and hope to nonmembers in their communities.
That includes strangers members may approach on the street or in their homes.
"We don't just belong to a church. We go out from our homes and Kingdom Halls (the religion's worship and meeting centers) and 'make disciples of all the nations,"' Witness Jim Roach said, quoting Matthew 28:19 in the New Testament.
Jones, dapper, focused and hardworking, dedicates 70 hours a month to the person-to-person ministry for which his denomination is known. Often working with fellow Witnesses, he knocks on doors in his neighborhood and others in Cleveland and its suburbs.
Before retiring, Jones worked as a letter carrier, and he remains fit enough to keep active in what his church considers a 2,100-year-old tradition of face-to-face Christian evangelism.
"We think of it as practicing the same approach Jesus and his apostles used," he says.
For the past month, some 7,500 Witnesses from Ohio and neighboring states have been meeting each weekend in an arena at Cleveland State University to sing, read the Bible, and baptize new members.
"We consider baptism a very public display of our faith and commitment," says Roach, spokesman for the district committee. The denomination's meetings, he emphasizes, "are freely open to anyone. We don't turn anybody away."
Kingdom Halls, too, invite nonmembers to Bible discussions and lectures.
Jones, a Georgia native, settled in Cleveland in 1945 after serving in the South Pacific during World War II. He had grown up a Baptist. When he began working here, he started looking for "some enlightenment from the Scriptures," he says.
He remembers hearing other Christians tell him that they had been hopeless sinners before turning to God for salvation, and without that they would be doomed to an eternity in hell. Jones says he wondered why "a loving God would take his highest creation--which man is supposed to be"--and condemn all to damnation "if they didn't get the word."
He began attending a Kingdom Hall "because the Jehovah's Witnesses had this message of a loving God. That's one of the things I liked."
Joining the denomination required him to study the Bible with others and consider the depth of his commitment. More than seven years passed before he felt ready to be baptized.
To carry the religious message, Jehovah's Witnesses must learn to overcome any reticence. Congregations hold weekly meetings where experienced Witnesses help newer members structure their messages, engage outsiders and practice courtesy and clear, convincing delivery.