Bible School Chronicles - First Roommate (Chapter 1)
My initial choice to attend bible college was with mostly pure intentions – I wanted to study theology, to study music, and yes, to live in the city. A number of people whom I respected also attended the college, older individuals, peers. From my own home church, about five different individuals would be attending the school at the same time. Oddly, they all dropped out for various reasons along the way (grades, funds, marriage), so that by the time I graduated, I was the only one left. In fact, at my graduation, there was only one individual whom I knew very well. I think he had in effect renounced his faith about two years earlier, so perhaps he was merely finishing out of an obligation.
I nearly took a different route. My application was initially denied because of my poor grade point average. I was set, then, to attend an art college with an open admissions policy. My mother pushed it, though, so that the school would allow me to complete some summer school courses to prove my aptitude for college. I worked hard and aced the courses. I joined the school band before the fall semester, playing the upright bass. I had never played an upright bass before, but the band leader assured me that it would be fine. I stayed in long enough to attend an orientation retreat, but resigned before any performance.
My very first roommate was named Sean, I think. Friendly guy, something of a go-getter. He was launching some sort of business and told me that with my communication skills, I would make a good telephone salesperson. A fellow student later told me in confidence that Sean was a shady guy who would come to class with O’Doul’s (fake beer) in his mug. I have yet to figure out why that would be objectionable.
One component of the application process was a short card indicating one’s characteristics and preferences in a roommate. I think Alex was already unpacking some things when I moved to my permanent room. He was a bit older and was immediately amiable, declaring to other floor members that he had the best roommate. Alex was an athletic guy, a former hockey player. He came from the same general area that I did and proudly told me about a family member’s Greek restaurant in the city. Also, he was engaged to Tina, who would talk to me when she called for him and make us meals.
A peculiar practice among evangelicals is the zeal with which they will detail their testimonies. Alex talked about his former drug use – cocaine! He would also talk about his former conquests, “I was involved with a lot of sexual sin.” As I listened to my music, fairly innocuous classic rock stuff like Hendrix, Dylan, The Doors and The Rolling Stones, he would tell me, “You worry me; that’s some of the same stuff I used to be into.” Finally, he would protest my playing “secular” music altogether.
This was also relatively common. I had friends who would throw out their entire music collections. Sometimes later they would buy it all back. On at least one occasion, I salvaged some good selections from someone’s purging.
I learned soon enough that fellow students seemed to take some joy in “confronting” others. For example, the dress code was button-up shirts and dress pants. As I had been wearing my shirt largely unbuttoned with a t-shirt beneath, a student riding the elevator with me one day said, “Brother, you need to button your shirt up.” This all began to chafe at me. I had grown up attending public, not Christian, schools. My parents were fairly permissive with me, tolerant of my changing styles, music tastes, friends. I didn’t have much of a curfew at home as long as I kept them informed of where I was. Here, I had to be in by ten.
Those contacts with friends back home were precious. It was a different culture there; I’m pretty sure a lot of people didn’t understand why I had chosen bible college. My favorite teacher even questioned me on it at one point, “What will you study, chamber music?” But I spent the year prior to my enrollment studying classical guitar at a conservatory. I also tried to gain some rudimentary piano skills. My idea at this point was to become a music teacher.
I studied diligently during the week, took on a part-time job cleaning school offices and other facilities, and usually went home on weekends. There I “jammed” with a small group of friends, loitered at family restaurants, ordering a refillable coffee and smoking, and occasionally went somewhere after to get stoned. My father drove me back to bible school early Monday morning before his workday at the mill.
One evening after I returned from work, Alex said, “Some girl called for you.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t catch a name.”
“Was her name Amy?” (someone I’d been talking to at home).
“I don’t know.”
This was not a frequent occasion. If “some girl” were calling me every day, I might be certain who it was, or I might not be so incensed at the lost message.
A month or so later, I entered into a room in great disarray – a book shelf toppled and a poster on the ground - and an agitated Alex. “What happened here?”
“Oh nothing, I just had an argument with Tina. I’ll take care of it.”
As soon as I could find someone suitable enough, more of a like-minded individual, I arranged for a new roommate. At the time, Alex was a bit surprised that I was leaving. I would later meet up with him under different circumstances, working in warehouse for a subsidiary of the college. Here he was fun to work with, joking and friendly.
(It struck me to try and get some of these things out--there are some stories worth telling. I will try to keep it to chapters/phases. Next one--The Homeless. It will be pretty straight biographical; the characters certainly represent actual individuals, no intended composites as far as I can tell.)
I nearly took a different route. My application was initially denied because of my poor grade point average. I was set, then, to attend an art college with an open admissions policy. My mother pushed it, though, so that the school would allow me to complete some summer school courses to prove my aptitude for college. I worked hard and aced the courses. I joined the school band before the fall semester, playing the upright bass. I had never played an upright bass before, but the band leader assured me that it would be fine. I stayed in long enough to attend an orientation retreat, but resigned before any performance.
My very first roommate was named Sean, I think. Friendly guy, something of a go-getter. He was launching some sort of business and told me that with my communication skills, I would make a good telephone salesperson. A fellow student later told me in confidence that Sean was a shady guy who would come to class with O’Doul’s (fake beer) in his mug. I have yet to figure out why that would be objectionable.
One component of the application process was a short card indicating one’s characteristics and preferences in a roommate. I think Alex was already unpacking some things when I moved to my permanent room. He was a bit older and was immediately amiable, declaring to other floor members that he had the best roommate. Alex was an athletic guy, a former hockey player. He came from the same general area that I did and proudly told me about a family member’s Greek restaurant in the city. Also, he was engaged to Tina, who would talk to me when she called for him and make us meals.
A peculiar practice among evangelicals is the zeal with which they will detail their testimonies. Alex talked about his former drug use – cocaine! He would also talk about his former conquests, “I was involved with a lot of sexual sin.” As I listened to my music, fairly innocuous classic rock stuff like Hendrix, Dylan, The Doors and The Rolling Stones, he would tell me, “You worry me; that’s some of the same stuff I used to be into.” Finally, he would protest my playing “secular” music altogether.
This was also relatively common. I had friends who would throw out their entire music collections. Sometimes later they would buy it all back. On at least one occasion, I salvaged some good selections from someone’s purging.
I learned soon enough that fellow students seemed to take some joy in “confronting” others. For example, the dress code was button-up shirts and dress pants. As I had been wearing my shirt largely unbuttoned with a t-shirt beneath, a student riding the elevator with me one day said, “Brother, you need to button your shirt up.” This all began to chafe at me. I had grown up attending public, not Christian, schools. My parents were fairly permissive with me, tolerant of my changing styles, music tastes, friends. I didn’t have much of a curfew at home as long as I kept them informed of where I was. Here, I had to be in by ten.
Those contacts with friends back home were precious. It was a different culture there; I’m pretty sure a lot of people didn’t understand why I had chosen bible college. My favorite teacher even questioned me on it at one point, “What will you study, chamber music?” But I spent the year prior to my enrollment studying classical guitar at a conservatory. I also tried to gain some rudimentary piano skills. My idea at this point was to become a music teacher.
I studied diligently during the week, took on a part-time job cleaning school offices and other facilities, and usually went home on weekends. There I “jammed” with a small group of friends, loitered at family restaurants, ordering a refillable coffee and smoking, and occasionally went somewhere after to get stoned. My father drove me back to bible school early Monday morning before his workday at the mill.
One evening after I returned from work, Alex said, “Some girl called for you.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t catch a name.”
“Was her name Amy?” (someone I’d been talking to at home).
“I don’t know.”
This was not a frequent occasion. If “some girl” were calling me every day, I might be certain who it was, or I might not be so incensed at the lost message.
A month or so later, I entered into a room in great disarray – a book shelf toppled and a poster on the ground - and an agitated Alex. “What happened here?”
“Oh nothing, I just had an argument with Tina. I’ll take care of it.”
As soon as I could find someone suitable enough, more of a like-minded individual, I arranged for a new roommate. At the time, Alex was a bit surprised that I was leaving. I would later meet up with him under different circumstances, working in warehouse for a subsidiary of the college. Here he was fun to work with, joking and friendly.
(It struck me to try and get some of these things out--there are some stories worth telling. I will try to keep it to chapters/phases. Next one--The Homeless. It will be pretty straight biographical; the characters certainly represent actual individuals, no intended composites as far as I can tell.)
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