Jerry's Kid...

I have had a very checkered and sporadic college career ranging across a fairly wide variety of vocations and locations. I went to a technical college in Ohio to be a commercial artist. I went to Bible College in Rhode Island to be a Youth Pastor (one semester of Christian hell which I will surely write about at a later date). I have at this point attended something like five or six colleges and not graduated from any of them. Fortunately for me, I work in the field of digital art and animation, which relies almost solely on ability over education as a basis for employment. As if to perfectly illustrate the irony of this fact, I, a non-graduate in my own profession, will begin teaching a college course on that profession this January. Ain't life a kick? But anyway, my point...

One of the colleges I attended (briefly) was Liberty University in Lynchburg Virginia. This is the college that Jerry Falwell founded, and as far as I know he is still the Chancellor of the school. Back in the day, Libery was called "Liberty Baptist University". They dropped the "Baptist" a few years before I attended, but as far as I could tell, the change was purely semantic. These are a few meaningless, amusing recollections from when I was one of Jerry's kids.

Jerry Falwell, I'll give him this, was very interested in the school and wanted to be personally involved with it in some key ways. One of these ways was that he insisted that he attend, and often lead, Sunday morning church services in the University gymnasium. The problem (from my perspective) was that in order to fit this in around his duties as Pastor of his own church, we students had to meet with Jerry for the University church service at the ungodly (so to speak) hour of 7:30 in the morning. These services were the first and only church services that I ever had the audacity to sleep through (they weren't the only services I ever wanted to sleep through, but in a congregation of several thousand, it was the only setting in which I could actually sleep-more-or-less unnoticed).

Jerry Falwell liked sports. In the days when I was attending, he was foreseeing the funding and building of a huge new basketball stadium. This annoyed me, because I notoriously don't like sports. I was an artist. Artist's didn't get multi-million dollar buildings to practice their skills in. Artist's definitely did not get full-ride scholarships to come to a school and play a game. But, with a sigh, I knew these were not complaints against Jerry specifically, any more than that he happily represented the collegiate world in general. That was just how the inflated sports ball of your choice bounced. But yes, Jerry liked sports, and he seemed to take great pride in how his school's teams played. And the attention that playing got.

Sunday service, some anonymous morning in the Fall of 1990, I was sitting blearily in a folding chair on the main floor of the gymnasium listening (appearing to listen, in all honesty) to Jerry's sermon. He was working toward the finishline (thankfully, with an attending congregation of several thousand, altar calls were a rarity) and finally he closed his Bible. We were already bowing our heads by the time he announced the closing prayer. And then... there was a pause. Which was odd. The entire gymnasium, thousands of bowed heads and closed eyes, all waiting. What was he doing? Did he forget his notes? Lose his place? I turned my head very slightly and opened one eye at my best friend Matt, seated next to me. He looked back at me one-eyed. I was just about to quietly glance up when Jerry finally began speaking again. "This Friday night" he said in his characteristically grave-but-jolly baritone, "ESPN will be here to broadcast the Eagles basketball game against Illinois. We hope to see you all turn out and encourage the team to an exciting victory." I was still staring one-eyed at my buddy. The look on his face mirrored mine. It was a look that said "Why is my head bowed? Did I miss a cue because I was asleep? Am I gonna look like a dweeb when I look up and everyone is carefully taking a note and chumming quietly to each other about how cool it'll be to be at a nationally broadcast basketball game?" And we looked up, simultaneously just as Jerry said, eyes closed, head slightly raised, "Our Father..." And our heads dropped back toward the floor as if weighted.

That was weird. But damn weren't that funny when we all finally got out of the building and were making our way to our (required) Sunday school classes!

The time I actually met Jerry was the time I volunteered to usher for a play that was being put on in one of the much smaller theaters on campus. My friend Matt and I were dressed up in our suits, enjoying the easy bustle of being on the fringes of the churning machine of the stage. It was rumored that Mr. Falwell, who was of course a bit of a celebrity, was going to be attending one of the shows with his wife. Sure enough, they showed up at the performance we were ushering, smiling and glad-handing people tastefully. He sat on the opposite side of the theater that Matt and I were managing, but it was still sort of exciting and strange that he was there.

At intermission, my and Matt's job was to open and run the small concession booth in the lobby area. We unlocked the rear door and took our posts, selling candy and Pepsi to the patrons and making change out of a little grey lockbox. Near the end of the intermission, when the crowd was gently pushing its way back into the theater and Matt and I were closing up the booth, Jerry Falwell approached us out of the crowd. It was just us and him. He positioned his surprisingly substantial frame in front of the booth, two feet away from us, smiled that grave, somber smile of his, rocked on his heels for one dramatic little moment, and then said "Got any more Reese's Peanut Butter Cups?"

Matt and I looked at each other, suddenly called into action by the voice of the school, by the very mouthpiece of the National Moral Majority! And what were we going to do? Once again we shared a look, a look of restrained panic and frozen fear. Only this one was worse, much worse, because it was just us and him! The awful truth was upon us. We were out of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

"Sorry sir," One of us said; I can't remember which. "We're all out."

He nodded at us appraisingly, then clapped one of us on the shoulder. "Good job, fellas." He said. Then he turned and was gone.

I frankly didn't learn much during my time at Liberty University, my time as one of Jerry's kids. It wasn't the school's fault. I frankly wasn't there to learn, which is a whole other story. But one thing I will always remember is that at one time, at one crucial point in his life, Jerry Falwell needed something from me, and I wasn't able to give it. It may not have been much, it may not have even been for him. It was probably for his wife, in fact. But that's immaterial. I have made a solemn pledge, a vow, perhaps. The next time, I will not fail. The next time I will do what is required of me. The next time Jerry needs something from me, I will come through.

And if there isn't a next time, then I guess we're probably good anyway. Here's to you, Jerry.