A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE TRULY IS DANGEROUS.

Whatever made me think I knew how to take care of rabbits? I once assumed that all they needed were alfalfa pellets, carrots, weeds, and water. I also figured that bunnies could only be kept in cages and that they thrived in tight quarters.

Many years later, the realization that I was abismally uninformed about the physical and psychological needs of these herbivores finally sunk in. The House Rabbit Handbook by Marinell Harriman proved to me the extent of my ignorance and gave me the resolve to care for bunnies properly in future.

In When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies), I described how my lack of knowledge took the life of one sweet, handsome animal.

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In 1989, I bought a bunny from a breeder who built me a large hutch with sliding dropping pans. Since the bunny had medium brown fur with dark brown points, I named him Mr. Chocolate.

He was most likely an American Sable and had a patch of white fur on his left front paw as if there weren't enough pigment to go around. That disqualified him as a show rabbit. However, he was an affectionate and intelligent bunny.

One September evening, I gave Mr. Chocolate some stalks of stinkweed from the garden. He wolfed them down, as he did the dandelions and other greens which I habitually brought him.

When I went to feed him the next morning, he refused to eat his alfalfa pellets. Figuring Mr. Chocolate would soon eat again, I decided not to bother taking him to a vet. I'd heard somewhere
that certain animals occasionally go off their feed, so I waited for my bunny to resume eating.

Mr. Chocolate's health deteriorated and my new furry friend died about a year later from an intestinal blockage. After he died, I was depressed because my inaction had killed him. Though the rabbit had lived with me for only fifteen months, he had claimed a place in my heart and won me over with his charm.

Mr. Chocolate was so much a part of my daily routine that the house felt empty without him and I soon yearned to have another bunny.

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When a Man Loves a Rabbit contains many more fascinating stories of life with house bunnies. These range from the tragic to the hilarious. Click here to read more about this book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

THE SOUND THAT CHANGED MY MUSICAL TASTE

What was the sound that hooked you and changed your musical preferences? Was it Chuck Berry's guitar? Was it The Beatles' energetic pop songs? For me, it was an electronic device invented by Doctor Robert Moog. Having been somewhat of a maverick, unusual sounds often captured my attention. Imagine my delight therefore when I discovered music made from purely electronic sources.

In Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I wrote about the time when, in the summer of 1967, I heard a tune that turned me onto a whole genre of music.

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My family stayed home that summer. Even so, I kept busy with my own activities. One television station aired a show called University Of The Air. The content of the program soared far beyond my understanding but its theme music entranced me. It consisted of a simple melody played on a Moog synthesizer. I had never heard such intriguing music before. Each weekday morning, I tuned in the program so I could hear the music at the beginning and end of it.

This began my life-long love affair with electronic music. In those early days, albums featuring synthesizers were hard to find. Recordings of this genre were usually used in commercials or as program theme music. Whenever I heard that futuristic sound, I drank it in as a desert plant takes in the rain.

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Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this compelling story. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

HOW TO RECEIVE DISTANT STATIONS WITHOUT CABLE OR SATELLITE.

Have you ever tried turning the channel during summer mornings when the weather was excellent? Chances are that you discovered TV stations on normally vacant channels. You also may have found that the spaces between FM stations likewise come alive with broadcasters. Why does this happen? An atmospheric condition called tropospheric ducting funnels the very high frequency signals, that normally would go out into space, and carries them for hundreds of miles. Depending on the dome of high pressure over a given area, this can continue all morning. Once the air heats up and the wind starts, the duct is destroyed.

Being an avid radio listener and television watcher since early childhood, the lure of tuning in distant signals, not meant for our area, was too strong to resist. I wrote about my discovery of tropospheric ducting in Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School). During August of 1969, Alberta's fine weather provided me with weeks of long distance viewing entertainment.

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I discovered a new form of long distance television viewing that month. Stations located a couple of hundred miles away came in clearly during the early mornings of cloudless days. Though the stations rebroadcast the programming of the CTV and CBC networks, I felt thrilled to see channels seven through thirteen filled with signals. I learned from the station identifications that these repeaters were located in small towns in northern Alberta. A station from Lloydminster also came in one day.

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Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this compelling story. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

GO FLY A KITE.

Is it any wonder that my first experience of flying a kite was a dud? Enthusiasts know that you need a windy day, plenty of string, and a little patience to keep a kite aloft.

In Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I wrote of the experience that disillusioned me about the hobby.

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Towards the end of August, Dad bought us a small red kite. Deciding to play the father role for an afternoon, he put it in the back seat and drove my sisters and I out to a grassy field near the town. I had often heard how much fun flying kites was. Various books and television programs sang the praises of this activity. Since I had never flown a kite before, I anticipated having an exciting time.

"Throw it up in the air and run with it," Dad instructed. Diane and I took turns but the kite refused to become airborne.

"This is supposed to be fun?" I thought to myself as I towed that stick and plastic contraption behind me on its short string. After one try, I handed the kite to Diane and let her tire herself out with it. Since Linda was too young, she ran around the field with her own imaginary kite.

It was unfortunate that our father chose a cloudy and calm day for kite flying. Had it been windy, the activity might have been more enjoyable. Dad drove us home after a half hour. As I gazed out of the car's window, I thought kite flying was a colossal waste of time.

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Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this compelling story. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

AN ODD SPOT FOR A GOOD TIME.

What was your favourite candy store? In 1969, a wonderful little shop opened in downtown Fort Saskatchewan. The vast selection of candies, chocolates, and potato chips dazzled us each time we entered the place.

In Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I wrote of those wonderful days when my sisters and I strolled downtown, coins jingling in our pockets, envisioning those wonderful treats that would soon be ours.

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Though my family stayed home that summer, we were preoccupied with plenty of activities. A new candy and magazine store in town, called The Odd Spot, had opened. Whenever my siblings and I could beg some money from Mom or Dad, we would walk to the shop and then we would make our agonizing financial decisions. My sisters and I had a limited amount of money and far too many tempting choices.

My favourite candy was called Hippy Sippy. It came in a plastic bottle, had a straw to suck up the tiny coloured beads, and a badge was pinned to the label. Slogans like, "HIPPY SIPPY SAYS, HOW DOES THIS GRAB YOU?" were printed on each one.

Linda absolutely loved the new candy store. She chanted, "Odd Spot! Odd Spot!" whenever we put our shoes on to go uptown. Naturally, we needed to budget for her since children that age are incapable of knowing how little or much money can buy.

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Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this compelling story. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

A PUPPY IN THE DOG DAYS OF SUMMER.

Why do parents insist on giving children pets in order to teach them responsibility, then become disgusted when the children leave all the work to them? In far too many households, the same sad scenereo plays out year after year. Animal shelters overflow with once-loved creatures, yet the public never learns that teaching children responsibility takes constant reinforcement.

When I was young, we had a steady flow of cats passing through our home. Mom decided to get us a dog, presumibly to coax us to take care of him, but the same pattern of neglect continued. Here's an excerpt from Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) that shows how ill-advised Mom's plan was.

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We received a learning experience of a different type in August. Mom adopted a puppy who we named Muffin. His fur was similar in colour to that type of bread while his ears partially flopped down the sides of his head. Diane, Linda, and I spent many happy hours playing with that obliging animal, but we were very mean to him. Along with the usual tricks played on unsuspecting pets, we once put Muffin on the teeter totter in our yard. He became so frightened that he left a puddle behind on the seat.

Muffin certainly was a devoted little creature. I once fell off of the fence in the front yard and he came bounding up to see if I had been hurt. As Diane and I thought this was humorous, we decided to train him to come when I fell. Bribing him with wieners worked only once. Muffin soon started coming for the treat and not because he was concerned about me.

Our puppy ate well while he was with us. Mom gave Muffin a bowl of scrambled eggs and chopped-up wieners one morning. He enjoyed it so much and danced so joyfully before being fed that we nicknamed the dish Muffin's Delight. We begged for a bite of it too. The combination tasted so delicious that we asked Mom to make Muffin's Delight every morning for us as well as for him.

As is often true, the novelty of having a pet wears off quickly. Mom assigned me the chore of walking Muffin. Soon I found that he refused to heel. Muffin once bit through the string on his collar and dashed away. I eventually caught the little rascal and carried him home. After a few walks up to a run-down barn-like garage, which Diane and I once thought was haunted, I grew weary of scolding that rambunctious puppy.

Mom decided to give Muffin away after a couple of weeks. We tired of walking him and none of us wanted to even fix his meals. Though the five of us felt sad to see Muffin go to another family, at least we were not burdened with caring for him anymore.

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Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this compelling story. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

AVOIDING A CLASS REUNION IN HELL.

Did you ever dread attending a class reunion? I certainly did but for reasons different from the average alumni. Having suffered a total of approximately 58 months at Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind, the last thing I wanted was to set foot on the grounds of the institution that traumatized me for most of my life.

From Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), here is how I was invited by one sycophantic graduate of that pseudo-school.

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In the summer of 1991, I received a call from Brian McIvor. Certain Jericho alumni arranged a reunion in Vancouver during the first weekend in August, on the grounds as well as at a downtown hotel. After describing the event, he asked if I wanted to attend it. Brian felt shocked at my emphatic refusal.

"Why don't you want to come? It's going to be fun," he enthused. How could I explain my profound hatred for Jericho in one phone conversation? I felt stunned that he, who attended it for years, was incapable of understanding why I despised that place. After a short argument concerning Jericho's merits, we hung up. As with David, I never heard from him again. I received a printed invitation to that school reunion in my mailbox as well. I tore it up and tossed it in the garbage after only reading a few words.

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Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this compelling story. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

MOM NEEDED DOUGLAS ADAMS' "DON'T PANIC!" TOWELS.

As I wrote in the previous post, Mom was easily alarmed by emergencies. Her hysterical nature caused me to hide whatever was wrong with me. I somehow believed I would get blamed for my malady. This could have been dangerous if I had some sort of fatal illness that came on gradually. Glaucoma, though not lethal, damages the optic nerve without the sufferer being aware of it. Had Mom taken me to an ophthalmologist in 1966 when I first started seeing rainbows around lights, my vision might be better today.

In Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I wrote about the time I innocently mentioned a temporary condition with my vision that caused Mom to panic.

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One evening a strange thing happened to my sight. I began seeing rainbow halos around the mercury vapour lights above the pool and my vision appeared foggy. Fear that it would remain that way seized me. Fortunately, the condition cleared up after I left the pool. I did not dare tell Mom about it as she became hysterical in times past regarding any sort of medical problem.

I recalled what happened a few years previously when we were all eating dinner. A white mist slid across my right eye. I blinked it away, fearing it might not go. "Hey, my eye's going funny," I announced to the family.

"Huh! What! What do you mean?" Mom demanded. The entire world came to a halt as everybody stared at me and I felt so frightened of her panic that I said nothing.

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Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this compelling story. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

PARENTS MUST BE STRONG.

It's a fact of life that children, especially boys, have accidents. They skin knees, burn their fingers, get scratched, and suffer a thousand other injuries. Distressing though it may be to a mother, these things happen.

In Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I wrote about how completely unprepared my mom was when I had an accident in the neighbour's yard.

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Another good example of Mom's inability to handle medical misfortunes happened in the first week of August. Diane and I were with the MacLeans in their front yard early one evening.

"Let's play piggyback," I suggested and everyone enthusiastically agreed. I climbed on Diane's back, riding her around the yard. Then we switched places.

I was doing my best to "giddy up" when I stumbled. Reflexively, I put out my left arm to shield myself from the fall. Unfortunately, that broke one of the bones between my elbow and wrist. I howled in pain as everybody stared. Diane helped me up and we both walked as briskly as possible to the house. I held my broken arm out to keep it from bumping against my side.

"Just rub it and it'll get better," Diane said as she gave it a vigorous massage. New waves of pain shot up my arm, causing me to howl even more as we walked through the side door of our house.

I walked carefully downstairs and laid on my bed, hoping my arm was only sprained. Knowing how hysterical Mom became when confronted with injuries, I thought I would leave it alone and wait for the swelling to go down.

"You get up here right now!" Mom bellowed from the upstairs landing.

"I'll be alright, Mom. I just need to lie down for a while." As Mom continued to holler at me, I reluctantly climbed the stairs.

She became frantic, as I feared, when she saw my arm, which obviously appeared broken. After she called the hospital, she raced to the living room door and yelled loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear, "You damn stupid kids broke Brucey's arm!" Fortunately, Dad was home at the time of my accident. He drove Mom and I to the emergency door of the hospital.

"Remove your trousers," a nurse said as I sat on the examining table. When I did so and handed them to her, a shower of rocks tumbled out of my pockets. I had gathered some interesting specimens before going to my neighbour's yard to play.

"I'm so sorry for the mess," Mom said. "My boy likes to collect rocks and things. You know how boys are." She had that tone in her voice which hinted that I was in big trouble later for humiliating her.

"Don't worry," the nurse soothed, "This sort of thing happens here all the time."

The anesthetist administered a general anesthetic and I went under immediately. I awoke in a dark room with my arm inside a hard and heavy object. "So this is a cast," I thought as I examined it with the fingers of my free hand. Then I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, a nurse woke me. "How did you sleep and how's your arm feeling?" she asked after she brought in my breakfast.

"My arm doesn't hurt too much but it feels funny having this cast on," I admitted.

The hospital discharged me that afternoon. Linda danced excitedly around the living room when she saw me, obviously happy to have her big brother home. Diane, However, felt so guilty that she raced downstairs and hid in our bedroom.

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Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this compelling story. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.