HOW WE HAD A "REEL" GOOD TIME DURING CHRISTMAS.

The festive season is supposed to be a time of unlimited happiness. Everybody knows that, right? The general expectation is that family and friends get together to exchange gifts and eat turkey. The last thing people expect or want is domestic conflict.

The holiday season isn't a joyous time for many in this age of marital contention and no-fault divorce. Christmas is one time of year when incidents of family violence, or the threat of it, peaks. Everybody - according to advertisers - is supposed to have the "perfect Christmas." That pressure sometimes causes quarrels to turn deadly.

In my Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, I wrote about how we managed to have fun during the holidays in spite of the perpetual threat of family strife. In this excerpt from the book, I related how we coped with this omnipresent danger.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Another source of entertainment for my family was an open reel tape recorder. While I was in Vancouver, Mom purchased it, along with a handful of reels, in order to tape Dad's tirades and play them to a lawyer or whomever did not believe he behaved as violently as she said. The machine was rarely used for its intended purpose but Diane and I thoroughly enjoyed using it. Hearing our voices coming out of the speaker was a sublime experience which kept us entranced for hours.

Diane interviewed me with the recorder one afternoon. First, I related how my day went when I left Jericho for Christmas vacation and how I met Dad at the airport.

"What did you eat for dinner on Friday night?" she asked next.

"Oh, the usual - fish and chips - but for dessert I think we had bananas instead of apples." "Sounds delicious."

"You bet." I said that about the bananas, not the supper.

"Have you been in the indoor swimming pool?" Diane continued.

"Yeah. I've been in there lots of times."

"Can you go ice skating?"

"No."

"Too bad."

"Do you play the piano?"

"Well, yeah, but I feel like quitting."

That recording was the only one to survive from the holiday. Because we only had a few reels of tape, we continually reused them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Deliverance from Jericho is filled with 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. Read more about Deliverance from Jericho here. Please feel free to contact me directly as well.

THE PRESENT THAT MEANT SO MUCH.

Have you ever given someone a gift that meant immeasurably more to that person than you ever expected it would? Though it eventually broke, the Christmas gift that my dad gave me in 1966 touched me deeply. This man, usually at the bar with his buddies, showed at least some recognition of how much I yearned to be with him. Perhaps he, in his sober moments, realized the bond all boys feel with their fathers.

This short excerpt from Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) is one of many which demonstrated how deeply those rare acts of kindness from Dad touched me.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I associated Volkswagens with my father because he had always driven that make of vehicle. Even though he was an alcoholic, I felt great affection for him. Consequently, when I opened my gifts on Christmas morning, I was delighted to find a battery-powered metallic brown toy Volkswagen.

"I would have given you a blue one but the store didn't have that colour," Dad informed me. Though it was brown, I treasured that toy.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Deliverance from Jericho is filled with 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. Read more about Deliverance from Jericho here. Please feel free to contact me directly as well.

BUNNIES AND KIDS DON'T MIX WELL.

Unless a person is knowledgeable and willing to take care of an animal of any sort, never give one as a gift. I know this sounds harsh but it's for the creature's own well-being that I make this statement. Animals aren't toys but creatures with feelings and emotions. Rabbits are especially sensitive to noise and commotion. A pet given to somebody on a whim often ends up at a shelter or dead.

In When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies), I wrote of the time when my sister, Diane, visited me with her two children. Like rabbits, I likewise dread noise and commotion. To my great relief, Logan and Linda behaved themselves. Here's how the visit went.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Two days before Christmas, Diane and her children visited us. Harry was the first to greet them. He let Linda and Logan pet him and didn't seem too concerned. I was glad because he had hidden in the past whenever company stopped by.

Neutrino was the next rabbit they met. As we sat in the living room, he went up and sniffed the new humans in his domain.

"What's that stuff on his whiskers?" Logan asked.

I told him that Neutrino had something wrong with his nose and that it made him sneeze a lot.

Logan was full of questions.

"How come his fur is brown on his neck?"

"That's just the way it is," Diane explained. "Different breeds of rabbits have different colours of fur?just like cows."

"Does he drink all that?" Logan asked, pointing to two water bottles.

"That's to keep the tunnel still," I informed him. "Poor Neutrino doesn't like it when it keeps rolling away on him."

Then Logan wanted to know how to pick up a rabbit.

Because he was leery of small animals, I demonstrated with Neutrino by placing my hands under the bunny's chest and around his knees. Then I hugged his furry body close to my chest, so he couldn't wriggle.

"I wanna see him hop," Logan demanded.

I was tempted to tell him that would be cruel, but then Diane said, "Leave him alone. He'll hop if he wants to."

She took a few photos of us all, then we went to see Gideon.

"Look at his weird red eyeball!? Logan blurted, when he saw the bunny in my bedroom doorway.

Diane explained that some animals had red eyes and were called albinos.

As Logan petted Gideon's head, the bunny nervously pulled his ears together.

"How come he keeps doing that?" Logan wanted to know.

"Gideon's just nervous," I explained. "He's never met you before. That's why he's worried."

As Diane and her children were getting ready to leave, Linda admired my china cupboard full of bunny teapots and other things.

"You sure must love rabbits," she commented.

I wanted to explain to her how much those bunnies meant to me, but Diane needed to leave right away. I'm sure my three lads felt relieved once the company had left. Though I missed talking to Diane about the old days when we were kids, I breathed a sigh of relief as I made lunch and petted my lads.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

When a Man Loves a Rabbit is filled with many more fascinating stories of life with house bunnies. These vignettes range from the tragic to the hilarious. You're also welcome to contact me directly for more information.

HAY IS HAY, RIGHT?

To most people, hay is hay. They don't know the difference between Alfalfa and grass hays such as Brome or Timothy. But there is a huge difference, one more importantly that impacts the health of pet rabbits.

Alfalfa is a legume, not a type of grass. The digestive system of rabbits is geared toward the low levels of nutrition and carbohydrates found in grass. Alfalfa contains much more of both supplying too much for a bunny to metabolize. The excess ends up as fat. Alfalfa, particularly the pelleted form, is geared toward fattening livestock in the prime of their lives.

As rabbits age, they need less nutrition and carbohydrates for growth. Like humans, overweight bunnies suffer from arthritis, congestive heart failure, and many other geriatric illnesses.

As I wrote in When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies), I deliberately searched for growers of grass hay. I understood that my bunny, Gideon, needed roughage from a non-Alfalfa hay. My diligent search was rewarded, as this excerpt from my book shows.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

When December arrived, I discovered that I was almost out of hay. While talking with the woman who ran a grocery store, I learned about a farmer who grew the grass kind, not Alfalfa. I called the number and the farmer delivered the bails later that week. He only charged five dollars each and since he was so kind in hauling them to my house, I gave him a five-dollar tip.

I had taken a risk buying three bails, but fortunately the bunnies liked the hay. Poor Harry still had bouts of diarrhea and the grass hay seemed to help lessen them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

When a Man Loves a Rabbit is filled with many more fascinating stories of life with house bunnies. These vignettes range from the tragic to the hilarious. You're also welcome to contact me directly for more information.

ANOTHER PARTY POOPED.

A pox on these people who spoil parties! We've all known bossy individuals who had to make false accusations or order others around. Even worse, these sort of party-goers never seem to understand how odious they are to the rest.

I had little choice but to endure the rudeness of two attenders at a dorm party in December of 1968. In Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I wrote about the time two disagreeable people ruined what could have been an enjoyable evening. This is what happened.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The supervisors held a Christmas party in the study one evening. The intermediate and senior girls were invited along with the senior boys. As I enjoyed a piece of chocolate cake, Mr. Moiarty said, "Take those and offer them around to the other kids." I hastily ate the piece I chose and walked around the room with the tray. I resented being imposed upon without warning but I obeyed.

Once I finished, I sat down. "Why did you have to take a bite out of my cake?" Tracy accused.

"I didn't do that," I protested. She turned her back and ignored me as I explained that I never touched her piece. "So much for the Christmas spirit," I thought.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Deliverance from Jericho is filled with 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. Read more about Deliverance from Jericho here. Please feel free to contact me directly as well.

AN UNWELCOME "TIN ANGEL" AT A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

Parties are supposed to be fun and Christmas parties especially so, right? I discovered that isn't always the case. The guests at one school party were less than charitable toward me and a record I wanted played.

From Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), here's what happened when I foolishly asked that my favourite disk be played to the end.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

It seemed as if I missed out on a fair amount of local news. No one told me that Jericho had a Student's Union until the organization held a Christmas party in the Music Room. Tracy and her blond senior dorm friend Patricia were the main supporters of the Union. Consequently, I felt absolutely no desire to join it.

I took a few of my favourite records, which I brought from home that autumn, to the party. Mom had recently purchased a big bag of seven-inch disks for a dime. Some of those obscure rock bands were surprisingly good.

Since I adored the song called "Tin Angel", I asked Patricia, who was the DJ, to play it. That was a mistake since the song lasted more than five minutes. Everybody, especially Patricia, wanted the record taken off halfway through the song but I begged to hear the whole tune. She reluctantly complied but I heard several partiers nearby sigh. Those less-than-subtle hints took much of the pleasure out of hearing my favourite song.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Deliverance from Jericho is filled with 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. Read more about Deliverance from Jericho here. Please feel free to contact me directly as well.

ADVENTURES IN ELECTRONIC MUSIC.

I've blogged in the past about my love of electronic music, a genre not well known to most people. In fact, the work of one pioneering band of musicians from Germany inspired me to compose my own pieces. Though I'm far from being an accomplished musician, I did create some fascinating sonic landscapes. Some of my compositions were aired on radio stations in cities such as Moscow, Warsaw, Paris, and Helsinki.

In When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies), I briefly mentioned my passion for this synthesizer-oriented music. Here's an excerpt that explains how I combined my twin loves of electronic music and bunnies.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Over the past fifteen years, I had composed and recorded my own form of experimental music. My passion for that genre began in 1975 when I became an instant fan of Kraftwerk, a German electronic music group. I heard their hit, Autobahn, played on 630 CHED, Edmonton's rock music radio station, and I bought their first three albums.

Listening to them, I felt inspired to create my own sonic textures. Other electronic artists intimidated me with their racks of expensive synthesizers, but Kraftwerk's earlier music could be produced even by poor musicians.

During the late seventies, I had tinkered with various circuits and acoustic sound-making devices in my home. It was for my own amusement and I never mentioned it to my friends
because I never dreamed that anybody would be interested in my sort of compositions.

In December 1984, I discovered a program on CJSR radio called Departures. The host Marcel Dion played all sorts of fascinating compositions and he invited "home tapers" to submit their music for broadcast.

In March, 1985, believing that my work might have a chance of being played, I copied all of my experiments onto a cassette and hand-delivered it to Marcel while he was doing his program.

Those early recordings were very primitive, but as time passed, I bought better gear and improved my technique. During the summer of 1998, and in honour of my beloved Gideon, I recorded an album called Lagomorph.

The title refers to the family of animals comprising of rabbits, hares and pikas. When I visited a web page containing the word rabbit in different languages, I decided to title each of my new tunes with those names. It took me a few months to record and manufacture the album at home, partly due to my freelance writing work and also because of other interruptions.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

When a Man Loves a Rabbit is filled with many more fascinating stories of life with house bunnies. These vignettes range from the tragic to the hilarious. Read more about this memoir here. You're also welcome to contact me directly for more information.

I WAS SOAKED IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE.

Time, money, loyalty, - I gave them all willingly to Thee Church (as I thought of it). And what did I get in return? The elders criticized and mislead me for more than fifteen years.

As I previously posted, I was a naive convert with no clue that not all who claim the name of Christ had my eternal welfare in mind. In this excerpt from my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, here is the first example of the erroneous expectations which the elders placed upon me - beginning at my baptism on this date in 1971.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"Here's a bathrobe, Bruce," Sister Roberta said after the hymn. "Go upstairs to Sister Eileen's bathroom and change into your bathing suit."

When I walked into the church a few minutes later, I saw Brother Herald waiting by the tank for me. He and Jay removed the comforters and lid. Then Sister Roberta lifted a short wooden step ladder that stood to the left of the tank, lowered it into the water, and held it steady. Brother Herald and I removed our bathrobes and Sister Eileen placed them on the freezer. I took note of the way Brother Herald climbed into the tank so I wouldn't embarrass myself. Then I followed him in.

"We are gathered here tonight to witness the baptism into the name of Christ of this new member," Brother Herald intoned to the four congregants standing by the tank. "Let us pray. Lord Jesus, be with this young man as he accepts baptism into your family. In Jesus' name we pray this. Amen."

"Bruce," he gave me a penetrating stare, "are you ready to receive the baptism of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins?"

"Yes, I am ready to receive the baptism of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins."

"Then, in Jesus' name, I baptize you into the name of Christ. Receive the Holy Ghost."

I pinched my nostrils closed as Brother Herald pushed me backwards and held me under the water for a few seconds.

"Start speaking in tongues," Sister Roberta exhorted as my head broke the surface. Everybody except Brother Herald jabbered as I stood, awaiting the promised Holy Spirit to manifest.

"Come on, Bruce," Sister Eileen urged. "You've got to speak in tongues. Just say anything and let the Spirit take control."

"How do I do that? What if I say something wrong and don't know it?"

"Just let the Holy Spirit guide your tongue."

I spoke a few nonsense syllables as if to jump start the process but I sensed no supernatural change.

"Hallelujah! He's starting to speak in tongues," Sister Roberta blurted. This sent the congregants into an accelerated frenzy of babbling. In spite of all their efforts, I remained mute.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

How I Was Razed is my testimony of how charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. After leaving that congregation and turning my back on God for almost a decade, due to the lies that the cult taught about him, he revealed his true nature to me. I now realize how blasphemous that house church's doctrines were.

Check out my previous memoirs here. You're also welcome to contact me directly for more information.

LIKE A LAM TO THE SLAUGHTER.

It happens all the time. Some charismatic preacher sets up a church and claims to have direct revelations from God Almighty. Instead of targeting unbelievers, these wolves dressed in shepherd costumes prey upon naive converts.

Forty years ago, I was one of those wandering sheep. No mature Christian discipled me so I had no idea of what was true or false. This excerpt from my How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir shows how I was seduced by a false teacher.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Three people looked me over as they sat at a rickety, brown card table in front of the pulpit.

"This is Sister Roberta and Sister Eileen," Jay said as he gestured toward a silver-haired woman wearing a flower print dress and her brunette daughter in a beige blouse and slacks. "And this is our minister, Brother Herald," he gestured toward a short, bullet-shaped man at the head of the table who sat with his back to the pulpit. He wore gold wire-rimmed glasses, a brown dress shirt, and grey suspenders with matching dress pants. His greyish-brown hair and moustache made him appear younger than his sixty-six years.

"We're about to start the meeting," Sister Roberta announced. "You better pull up a chair and sit down."

At first, Brother Herald's teaching style perturbed me. He spoke in a low monotonous rumble for many minutes, then his voice abruptly rose in volume and pitch as he pounded the table for effect. After startling us all, his voice dropped back to its normal level. This, and his laboured breathing, made listening a challenge in the beginning but I soon adjusted to his mannerisms.

By the end of the meeting, this man's preaching captivated me. I can't remember the subject of that particular lesson but I recall thinking that he explained arcane mysteries which ordinary ministers never preached. Only Garner Ted and Herbert W. Armstrong taught such revelatory doctrines on their radio and television programs called The World Tomorrow. Like Christ's audience when he finished preaching the "Sermon on the Mount" in Matthew 7:28 and 29, a sense of awe gripped me.

Though I gave my life to Christ at a Vacation Bible School in 1969, nobody discipled me until that evening. This was Thee Church, and my spiritual home, as I came to think of it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

How I Was Razed is my testimony of how charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. After leaving that congregation and turning my back on God for almost a decade, due to the lies that the cult taught about him, he revealed his true nature to me. I now realize how blasphemous that house church's doctrines were.

Check out my previous memoirs here. You're also welcome to contact me directly for more information.