Wednesday, September 18, 2002


I just read a lot of the back entries to this site, which I hadn’t really done, so I didn’t know some of you had written. Looks like I just plopped myself right down in the middle of stuff without really considering the etiquette of it all. My apologies.
It is strange for me to write about my own knowledge and experiences in the eighties because my memory is really horrible. I catch glimpses of things, but little of it really connects, which is the case for much of the past for me. I attended college in Chicago, where I had an entirely different set of experiences, then I would travel home and enter into the J.C. scene at very random times and places. The college I went to, Wheaton, was/is a Christian college, and students weren’t allowed to do the following: dance, drink, smoke, or have sex with anyone of either gender at any time other than within the context of marriage. At the same time, it was a highly academic, liberal arts environment. It wasn’t Bob Jones, in other words. So--I’d go up north and study theologians like Carl Barth and Reinhold Neibhur, and study constantly, then come down to Johnson City and find myself engaging in all manner of sin. Obviously, it was a confusing time for me. I have my regrets.
In many ways, I was intimidated by the whole J.C. scene. It expanded my mind at the time though, and in retrospect now, I’m glad it did. All of you have got to be the most intelligent, creative, unique bunch I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.
Another note - for the Milligan students who went to Nightmare’s shows, there was this heightened sense of----this is SO WILD. We probably consumed more alcohol than anyone else--staying true to the stereotype that, when Christians screw up, they do it larger than everyone else and without forethought. Does anyone remember the Fucking Prudes? All Milligan students.
When Dialogue was going on, which I do remember, I was mainly in Chicago. During Iran/Contra, a lot of Wheaton students, myself included, were active at a south american cafe/store in the city called The Heartland. All contributions went to support the Sandinistas.
I remember the Acid Cows, John. “Is there life after death or are there beaches in Arkansas?” I once knew all the lyrics.
Well, that’s it from here. I think I’ve offered about all that’s really reasonable for me personally. I wish all of you the very best---always.

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