Lies & the Lying Liars Who Tell Them_ A Fair & Balanced Look at the Right - Al Franken [111]
One concern. Mom, the one that looks like Naomi Judd, was worried about a certain element that Andrew might be exposed to in the Drama Department. Did Gerald understand what I was getting at? To make it even clearer, I used the magic phrase, “alternative lifestyle.” Any of that here at BJU?
“Oh, no, no, no, no.” Gerald shook his head. “No, no, no, no. No.” None of that here. We could be absolutely certain of that.
Good, good. Because Andrew was looking forward in particular to the heterosexual experience of college life.
“Yeah, my mom doesn’t like me dating, because of, you know . . . but college is the time that, you know . . .”
“Oh, yes. We want you to meet girls here,” Gerald smiled. “We encourage that.”
“So, the dating scene,” I asked on behalf of the boy, “what’s that like?”
Before Gerald could respond, Andrew expressed some mild concern. “Yeah, I was talking to some guys outside and they said there were some . . . rules.”
“Yes,” Gerald nodded. “You cannot leave campus with someone of the opposite sex, unless you are accompanied by a chaperone.”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. Then, looking for a ray of hope, “But on campus, you know . . .”
“We have a snack shop. You can sit and have a snack together.”
Andrew and I looked at each other. How to put this?
I took it upon myself. “In terms of, um, you know, um—how far can he go?”
Gerald understood. “Well, obviously, there’s absolutely no physical contact.”
A numbed silence from the two of us.
“None?” finally came out of Andrew’s gaping mouth.
“That’s right. No holding hands, hugging, kissing, anything like that.”
“Backrubs?” Andrew asked for clarification.
“No.”
“Oh, you mean in public? Well, that’s understandable,” Andrew conceded.
“No. No physical contact anywhere. At all.”
Andrew slumped.
Maybe Gerald had seen this reaction before. He knew just what to say. “Because, Andrew, you know what hand-holding leads to.”
Andrew took a wild stab. “Sin?”
“That’s right. You see, our rules are like guardrails that keep you on the path of Christ.”
So far, our plan was working beautifully. Young Andrew, who at first seemed amenable to, even excited about, pleasing his mother, was now reeling. It was time to set up the kill.
“You know, Gerald, Andrew’s mother really wants him to come here. I read that you have to be in the dorms by ten-twenty for the ten-thirty prayer group, and then lights out at eleven. But how about weekends?”
Andrew perked up. “Yeah, how far is it to Atlanta? Because my mom might let me bring my car, and a lot of the bands I like don’t play here in Greenville.”
“Well, you can have a car on campus, but you can only use it on weekends to go home or if you’re going on a mission,” Gerald explained helpfully.
“Oh, I see.” Andrew nodded. “I guess it wouldn’t be so bad to take the bus. Because Weezer didn’t play in Greenville last time out.”
“No, no. We don’t want you going to rock concerts. There’s no rock and roll.”
“No rock ’n’ roll?” I asked.
“No, we don’t endorse that, obviously.”
“What if I don’t play it too loud?” Andrew said, becoming upset.
“No. We don’t allow it in the dorms at all.”
“I could use headphones,” Andrew suggested.
“No.”
Things were getting a little tense. “How about country music? That’s good clean fun,” I winked.
“No.”
“Christian rock?” I tried. Certainly they must allow Christian rock.
Gerald shook his head. “We don’t endorse that.”
By now, Andrew was visibly shaken. No hand-holding. No road trips. No tunes. Lots and lots of prayer.
That’s when I spoke up. “Gerald, could I have a word with you alone?”
“Sure, Alan.”
I nodded to Andrew, who excused himself and stepped into the nearby men’s room. I waited for the door to close, then turned to Gerald, suddenly in his face.
“Listen. This kid’s mother is extremely wealthy. She has tons of money. She wants him to come here. If he comes here, I’m talking another building. Okay?! And you’re blowing it!”
Gerald recoiled. His eyes opened wide. It was as if he had seen Satan himself.
I was pleading. “Don’t tell him everything. You said before ‘nobody’s perfect.’ Certainly