MEMORIES OF ROOM NUMBER SEVEN.

Though I own a house, I still have fond memories of one room that I rented while in high school. Back in the early seventies, it was ideal for me.

I remember how happy I felt when I moved into that eight foot by twelve foot basement room. Having formerly lived in a rooming house with a nosey landlady, this new place was a vast improvement. The new landlord and his wife were kind and hospitable. Nobody asked what I was doing in there or who I was talking to. Never did I find them standing outside my door as I did with the former landlady.

I liked the antique gas stove that was in the room. Though it made baking difficult, having no heat setting for the oven, it was still nice to use

I also liked the cupboard with its blue and white curtains covering the shelves where the dishes were stored. I thought that was a cool idea. The long window on the opposite wall had the same blue flowers on a white background.

That room also had one of those old fashioned beds with metal head and foot boards. Being higher off the floor than modern beds, I was able to store all sorts of things under it. Along with being a place to sleep, the bed acted as a ground plain for my CB radio antenna. Nobody I talked to could believe that my bed was part of my antenna system.

In one corner stood a brown wardrobe. It was nice but the flimsy shelf on top collapsed with the weight of my winter tuques and other things. In the summer of 1977, I had an idea. After buying a piece of plywood from the lumber yard, I sanded it smooth. Then I placed it in the wardrobe. It stayed in place and didn't fall when I placed too many things on it.

The room also featured a small wooden table with a shelf underneath it. It also had a plastic table cloth with blue flowers on a white background. Along with eating my meals, I used it for homework and a few science experiments. I used the shelf as a place to store dirty dishes in a plastic basin until I had the time to clean them.

I liked the large drawers of the antique, ebony dresser with the white lace cloth on top. I had plenty of room for my clothes as well as a reel-to-reel recorder and an old TV that a friend gave me.

Though I enjoyed my time there, the room did have its drawbacks. I shared the bathroom and shower stall with a neighbour. We also shared an old fridge. The bathroom had no sink so I used the ones in the laundry room for washing my face and the dishes. Having only one electrical outlet, I had quite a rat's nest of wires leading to it. The room lacked a radiator so I had to leave one stove burner lit in the winter. It sometimes went out during the night. Only God's providence saved me from being asphyxiated.

The furnished room I moved to in 1979 was larger, had its own fridge and stove, and a bathroom. Though I never lived in such a small room again, I still cherished the times I lived in room number seven. Listening to the music I taped then and recalling my high school days still bring back pleasant memories of evenings spent in the first totally-private room I lived in. I hope whoever lives there now feels the same peace that I did.

In my How I Was Razed memoir, I wrote about the remarkable way that the Lord helped my mom find this cozy room. This testimony of how God led me out of a cult is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm Publishers