Have you experienced your own version of Exodus? Most of us have in some small way or other. Whether we leave an abusive relationship or a miserable school, we all experience the profound relief of putting an unpleasant situation behind us.

In my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, I recounted the last time I left that uncaring institution to begin my life as a free student in public school. Had I known I would never return there, I would have been much happier. As it was, I felt glad just to be heading home for summer holidays. Here's how my exodus from Jericho went.

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After all the tedious school activities were over, it was time to pack our belongings. Along with my suitcases, I decided I would bring a shopping bag filled with whatever would not fit in my luggage. When we arrived at the airport, some of my possessions fell out of the bag at the precise moment when everybody was leaving the bus.

As I felt around under the seats, Mr. Thynne said, "You're holding us up. Why did you have to bring so much stuff anyway?" I managed to escape the bus with my luggage intact. Behind me I could hear the rest of the boys murmuring about how my accident made them late.

Apart from that mishap, my home coming was uneventful. The hard times were behind me for the moment and I knew I could relax for two glorious months.

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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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

JERICHO EXPOSED!

In my previous post, I quoted part of a damning letter which somebody sent to the parents of the blind school I attended. Since it verifies my contention that the institution was run to make the government look good, I'm publishing the whole document here. Though it's long and rambling, it sheds light on a few of the many corrupt practices which occurred there for decades. I've corrected the mistakes which the O.C.R. program made when I scanned in this document but the writing style is that of the anonymous author.

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ATTENTION OF PARENTS OF CHILDREN AT JERICHO HILL SCHOOL:

This is a report written to expose to the Government Authorities and to parents the abhorrent practices which are currently enacted by the Administrative staff of Jerico Hill School. The reasons necessitating this report are not based on personality clashes but result from the sufferings, both physical and mental, which the children experience from an administrative staff, who daily become more lax and indifferent.

The casual observer, or even perhaps the professional investigator, might well conclude after a visit to the school and Resident Buildings, that the above observations are over-passionate and melodramatic. The floors are thoroughly polished, the lawns systematically mown, the children seem responsive and laugh appropriately, and the meals are well-cooked and nourishing.

Were I to go to the Victoria government, infuriated with a petty grievance that one of my Blind boys had been given 50 cents less than the requested amount in his weekly allowance, I would be laughed out of court; rightly. or wrongly. Were they to take such a small issue and demand an explanation from the Administration, the latter would be well equipped with a convincing answer. As Resident Instructors. we are less fortunate in being provided with the answers than the more influential outsider. On one occasion, when the Blind Boys' refrigerator had been removed for some unknown reason to Mrs. Pearson's office, (Mrs. Pearson is in charge of the Laundry) I was told by Mr. Armitage that it was "not for you to be given answers."

A further instance of how the Blind Intermediate and Senior Boys are being deprived occurred recently. For some months they received bread, peanut butter, tea, and other items for an evening snack around 9 p.m. On our return from a camp at Easter we see that Mr. Freemantle, shortly before his trip to Washington, has posted a notice to the effect that there were to be no further evening snacks, owing to such a disgusting mess of old food, which had been found in the dormitories. As Mr. Dustan (who is on the relief schedule) Mr. Jack, and myself personally supervised the evening snack, this 'reason' was unimpressive and certainly not justified. ***Further as Mr. Freemantle had left for Washington and Mr. Bryce ... [8 words were blacked out on the original document.] the Resident Instructors were given no opportunity to discuss the matter further. Incidently the girls , who were deprived of their snack for another reason, have now got their snack re-established. However we were 'appeased' with a vague promise that if we compiled a joint time-table for our evening snack, and submit this to Mr. Freemantle, we would conceivably get our snack back. That was done over a month ago and nothing has come of it, and now we will be fortunate if we get it in September.

Earlier I mentioned that the Blind Boys were deprived of their refrigerator. It is ironic that the excuse for ending the snack on account of alleged food-soiled dormitories is hardly made consistent by the removal of the fridge, the one available place for food which was taken some 2 weeks later. Now the Blind boys buy their own bottles of pop and chips, and consume them indiscriminately in the dormitories.

If explanations were to be given to the kids, at least this would provide some compensation, however inadequate. No explanation of a verbal nature has been given in regard to the snack-stoppage.

In early May, students from Simon-Fraser University wished to receive urine samples from each of the Blind Boys with regard to finding any chemical or genetic associations with their blindness. As the kids were given no formal explanation and no reassurance, their reluctance and embarrassment in giving a urine sample was to be fully appreciated. Several of the boys, whose blindness has been the result of an accident, need never have been involved.

Recently the Bowling Alley has been closed by Mr. Armitage: his involvement here seems strange, as he is the Business Manager. ***No reason was given as to why the Alley has been closed; the boys are further frustrated and one more activity is curtailed. No reason was given for the termination of the daily newspaper. Of course there is no reason as this is an expense paid for by the P.T.A. No reason was given the other day when the kids had to have their feet inspected at the Infirmary. (It was later established that Mr. Freemantle's children had warts on their feet.) No reason was given to all the Intermediate children when it was stipulated that their dormitory doors were to be left open. They resisted this new piece of "legislation" so firmly that the night-aid had no option but to leave the doors open. [I think he meant 'closed.]

At this stage the Reader may (Hopefully) be getting as depressed as the Writer. The task of making any headway seems remote and impossible. There may be a faint understanding of what is being described, a few sympathetic nods, but now there needs to be a complete realization that there is through and through corruption at Jerico Hill School. The argument that this is "just the government and what more can you expect?" is simply a valueless evasion. Nevertheless, this 'reason' is constantly given by the Administration. This merely excuses them for delays and contradictions, which the children suffer. Such delays and contradictions could be eliminated merely with Administrative effort and integrity; instead the kids suffer Administrative laziness and deceit.

Just the other evening I was told by Mr. Bryce not to let my boys wander off the pathways. He was unable to say what the purpose of the acres of available grass was, except there was a rule about it somewhere. Of course they are little more concerned with the rules, which are petty and clearly not meant to be enforceable, than the Resident Instructors. Again it is ironic that they themselves do not respect some of the rules which really matter. Frequently, Mr. Bryce does not appear until 2:30 p.m., when he should be there at 1 p.m. Of course the studies he is doing may be a reason, but this. regular absenteeism only furthers a breakdown in communications.

On May 17th. Mr. Freemantle appears at the sight of the newly-erected trampoline which straddles a pit some three feet apart. In a moment of clear hastiness, he ordered that the pit be filled in and that the boys be made to do it. The pit took the deaf boys and some partially-sighted boys 8 days to dig, and apparently Mr. Bryce had not notified Mr. Freemantle that the trampoline had been set up. Mr. Bryce, being in an embarrassing position, has said that the pit might stay open, but that Mr. Freemantle must not know about it.

***This leads into the next point, that there is acute mistrust among members of the Administration themselves. I have had frequent instances of their passing the blame onto another when a criticism has been levelled at them. Here then are some of the wretched practices to which the children are directly exposed. Most Resident Instructors would readily endorse it, but inevitably some of us have become infected with this widespread corruption. Some of the teachers feel as strongly as the Resident Instructors, but they are not as vulnerable as the latter, I know that Mr. Rose, the excellent and well-qualified Vice principal of the Deaf has encountered numerous frustrations, in the short time that he has been there.

To conclude, these are the questions that we try to give an answer to, in order to console the Resident boys and girls who are so bewildered. The trampoline should not be used, as Mr. Freemantle was angry; the Bowling Alley has been closed because Mr. Armitage has said it must be closed; you must give 'your urine because Mr. Freemantle has said so, and it is wanted for some tests (one blind boy asked me whether this would mean that they were going to have an operation). What is the real reason for the snacks ending? Why has Mrs. Pearson got all the keys to the Tyler House Boys' lockers, when they should be in the hands of the appropriate Instructors? Why are the drawers of the boys gone through regularly when nobody is present or on duty? Why should the children be made to walk on the paths, though there are acres of available grass? WhY is there so much resistance in letting the kids go on regular camps? One of the reasons is that Mr. Bryce complains he's not the bus driver.

WHY was Mr. Walter Lhortsky dismissed? That Was such a piece of white-collar crime that one hardly dares ask the question! It would be a rhetorical question to ask why has pressure been brought to bear on me to quit on my own accord. Other outspoken Instructors have been similarly pressured. Why has there been a vast turnover of Resident staff in the last year? (No knowledge of sign language does not seem to bother the Administration.) Why is there not careful assessment of a Resident Instructor's mentality and moral standards? At Jericho, the unspoken motto is: "Don't rock the boat, we live in splendid isolation (both from Victoria and the public)

In reference again to the deaf and blind boys and girls:

1. No audiograms

2. No vocational counsellor. (Mr. Freemantle has provided no
volunteer professional to cater for this)

3. No P.E. instructor, and Mr Freemantle has made no provision
for a substitute.

4. Inadequacy of Mr. Bryce.
a. fails to turn up for his hours.
b. cannot speak the deaf language efficiently.
C. physically and socially unfit for job.
d. reluctant to drive the bus.

5. No swim club. Stopped in September; this means the end of
the Olympic team.

6. Depriving them of dependable outside help.
I Heith Watson-Swimming.
II P.T.A. were asked to come and assist-Driving.

7. Complete supervision of outside activities-one camp
obtained for the girls with great difficulty.

Just a note regarding available sources of money: Why was the Resident Instructor not in receipt of petty cash, which can be used for items such as glue, Scotch tape, Strings, Labels, and a hundred-and-one other essentials. Each day, the Resident Instructor finds himself obligated to provide for small items, purchased from his own pocket. There are many points not even touched on, but I hope and pray that some light may have been thrown on an atrocious set-up at this school.

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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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

DAMNED IF I DID AND DAMNED IF I DIDN'T.

Have you ever had no choice but to be under the authority of somebody who perpetually criticized everything you did? This is a common affliction suffered by many. That sort of person often rises to prominent places in corporate and government organizational structures. People like that are motivated by the rush of making underlings jump as they bark commands. These individuals are obeyed by their subordinates but never truly liked by them.

In Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I recounted how many of the supervisors at that institution relished the thrill of bossing us boys around. It didn't even matter to some when we became ill. Below is one of many instances when a supervisor showed no compassion for me when I felt miserable.

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My hay fever persisted through May and June. I appeared to suffer attacks at the worst possible times. After school one afternoon, Mr. Moiarty sorted out the laundry, handing items of clothing out as he read aloud the names on the tags.

I tried in vain not to sniff as I stood with the other boys.

"Stop that sniffling! Go to the bathroom and blow your nose for crying out loud!" he roared.

"Who'll collect my clothes for me?

"I'll put them in a pile for you - just get out of here and go blow your nose."

As I hurried to the bathroom, I cursed my allergy and Mr. Moiarty's insensitivity. "If I left he would get mad and if I stayed he would get mad," I muttered to myself.

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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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

A GLIMMER OF LIGHT IN A DARK TIME.

Various victims of oppression have said that they found glimmers of joy even in the darkest of times. During war or imprisonment, I've heard that people discovered ways to have fun and even laughed at certain situations.

Though I've never been in a battle or a correctional facility, the authorities of Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind repressed independent-minded children like me. From my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, here is one of those shining moments in an otherwise bleak time of my life.

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The school provided us with exercise of a different sort than the twenty-five-mile walk that May. One of the administrators took the trampoline out of storage and dug a pit for it near the gym. Mr. Moiarty marched everybody down to it one evening. Each of us took his turn on the trampoline. When Mr. Moiarty bounced, his heavier weight caused it to touch the water at the bottom of the pit. All of us, including our supervisor, laughed heartily at the absurdity of it all. As nobody else could make a splash, we begged Mr. Moiarty to jump as high as he could.

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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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

TALK ABOUT JUNK SCIENCE!

I've heard of some weird scientific studies but this one was perhaps the strangest of them all. While I attended Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind in the late sixties, Our supervisor ordered us to give urine samples for some sort of study. We asked him why but he gave us no clear idea what it was all for.

Thanks to an anonymous letter to my parents, from a supervisor who complained about corruption at the school, I now understand what this mysterious business was about. Here's the relevant part of the letter:

In early May, students from Simon Fraser University wished to receive urine samples from each of the Blind BOYS with regard to finding any chemical or genetic associations with their blindness. As the kids were given no formal explanation, and no reassurance, their reluctance and embarrassment in giving a urine sample was to be fully appreciated. Several of the boys, whose blindness has been the result of an accident, need never have been involved.

At the time, I believed it was a professor at the University of British Columbia, not Simon Fraser students, who asked for the samples. Even so, I did feel some humiliation regarding what the supervisor ordered me to do.

From my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, which was written before I found out about the letter, here's what we thought of this oddball request.

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Occasionally, adults required of us tasks which appeared to make no sense. Somebody from UBC approached the school and asked for urine samples from the students. From what we could gather, it was a research project conducted by a professor. One afternoon, Mr. Moiarty marched us into the dorm bathroom and gave each of us a glass specimen bottle with a black lid. "Maybe they think they'll figure out a cure for blindness from this," Peter joked. We all laughed at the thought of such an absurd notion.

After we filled the jars and gave them to our supervisor, some were left over. "Can we keep these since they are unused?," I asked Mr. Moiarty. He consented and each of us who wanted a jar was allowed to take one. That surprised me since adults usually did not let children keep articles which were neither practical nor toys.

One game I enjoyed playing was filling the jar almost to the top with water, screwing the lid on tight, and swirling the contents around. By shaking it in a circular pattern, I made what looked like a tornado form in the bottle. I imagined it was a real twister as I shook the jar and held it close to my eyes. The ability to control such imaginary power helped take my mind off of my helplessness at Jericho.

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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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

SUNBATHING BUNNIES.

The public's lack of understanding regarding rabbits continually astonishes me. While riding in a friend's pickup truck recently, I mentioned to him that my dear companion, Carolyn, died of bloat last August. He was shocked as he only knew of cattle perishing from that malady.

This reaction of my acquaintances to the facts about house bunnies is no rare occurrence. People generally don't allow them a chance to be themselves. Most rabbits end up in tiny hutches with little social interaction. No wonder they withdraw into themselves and seem witless. Living with these misunderstood pets has taught me much. One of those surprising facts I've learned is that they love to sunbathe. During the months when the sunlight fell on the floors rather than on the walls, I've been treated to the sweet sight of bunnies contentedly flopped out like a human at the beach.

I wrote of how my long-eared companions enjoyed the simple pleasure of sunbathing in When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies). Hear's an excerpt from my debut memoir in which I described one of many episodes of my furry friends soaking up the rays.

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That spring and summer, a sunbathing fad had set in at my house. Harry had found the sunlight by the stove. And as the morning sun shone into the living room each day, Neutrino discovered the pleasures of laying in it. Now I had three rabbits who loved lounging in patches of sunlight. I suppose it might have been age-related, but they all enjoyed soaking up the rays. When I had time, I'd lay with my bunnies and pet them.

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Since the publication of this book, I've adopted four bunnies. Whenever they had access to a patch of sunlight, I invariably found them either lounging contentedly or washing themselves.

Of course too much of a good thing could prove fatal. If you have a rabbit, make sure he or she can hop to a shaded area or, better yet, take the poor creature inside as a house pet. bunnies can overheat and die if left in temperatures above thirty degrees Celsius (ninety degrees Fahrenheit) for more than a few minutes. No animal-loving person would leave a dog or cat in an enclosure where she or he had no cool area to go to. Why then treat rabbits differently?

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.

LET HIM WITHOUT SIN CAST THE FIRST STONE.

In past posts, I've written about how the administrators at Jericho Hill School made our lives miserable with their arbitrary rules and callous attitude toward us. Though I suffered injustice along with the rest of the boys and girls, I deserved my punishment at times.

In my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, I wrote about the time I vandalized a storage shed and coaxed some other boys to help me. We were justly punished for our rebellion in that instance.

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One sunlit evening, I became obsessed with the idea that those windows in the shed next to the pool were begging to be broken. I figured that, since some panes were already shattered, no one would notice a few more.

I outlined my idea to a few boys standing next to the pop machine, urging them to join me. "We'll never have a chance like this again," I urged. "Someone already broke a few windows in that shed so what would a few more matter? Come on, guys, let's smash a few more. It's an old building anyway."

My audience appeared strangely reluctant, but they eventually gave in to my urging. We gathered handfuls of pebbles and started hurling. The windows shattered delightfully. We were happily breaking them when Jimmy ran toward us. "I'm telling on you guys," he threatened. We implored him not to but he refused to listen, turned, and sprinted toward the dorm. Since we were already in trouble, we threw one last volley of rocks.

Mrs. Parker strode out of the dorm full of wrath. "You boys are going to bed right after supper for six weeks," she announced. "You'll get no candy either." Our hearts crashed to the ground. Six weeks seemed such a long time and to be with out candy was pure torture. The penalty impacted me so thoroughly that I felt intense dread whenever I walked passed that shed on the way to and from the Dining Hall.

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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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

EXPERIENCE IS THE BEST TEACHER

Life has radically changed for the average person over the last hundred-and-fifty years. Our houses are now constructed by professional builders. We heat and cool our homes by adjusting a few controls. We cook dinner using radio waves. Most of us shop rather than grow, raise, and hunt for our own food too.

In my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, I wrote about a field trip in 1969 that gave my classmates and me a glimpse of what life in Canada's pioneer days was like. Of course, my classmates and I didn't have to work from sunup until sundown as the settlers did. Additionally, I wouldn't have envied their ability to burn wood in their stoves if I had to chop it first. Nevertheless, it was a lesson that I never forgot.

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On one of our school field trips, we went to a museum where they were constructing a replica of a log cabin. The curators invited us to help build it. I enjoyed splitting the precut cedar logs to make shakes for the roof. The way the wood split so easily along its grain fascinated me. In my previous attempts at cutting boards, I always sawed across the grain. The wood also gave off a wonderful aroma. I felt tempted to dawdle and inhale its scent.

The staff allowed us to handle some of the tools and examine the kitchen implements. The wood stove reminded me of the one Scotty owned except that his was coated in gold-coloured enamel. I envied folks who were able to burn wood in their stoves.

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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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

TO BOLDLY GO WHERE NO TELEVISION SHOW HAD GONE BEFORE

Remember the way science fiction T.V. programs were before the nineteen-sixties? Either the heros continually vanquished aggressive aliens or the shows were frivolous sitcoms. Then one aired in 1966 that took the science part seriously and even dared to examine social problems.

In Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I described how the cancellation of this show, a mere three years after it began, grieved me. During the days when television helped me temporarily escape the depressing surroundings of Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind, the loss of this inspiring program hit me hard. Here's the excerpt from my book describing how I felt when I heard the sad announcement.

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The news came over my radio one day in April that Star Trek had been cancelled from the fall television line-up. Normally, the loss of a show did not bother me but I felt that program was special. Unlike Lost In Space and similar science fiction series, this one seemed to be, for lack of a better word, plausible.

Furthermore, Star Trek examined many social problems such as racism, conservation, and inequality. I felt sad that this show, which was optimistic about the future of humanity, was leaving the air. The Enterprise's five-year mission ended in only three.

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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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

FRUGAL VERSES CHEAP.

What's the difference between being frugal and being cheap? Frugal people understand that some expenses are necessary whereas a cheap person skimps on everything.

In When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies), I learned the difference when I thought my home remedies were sufficient to cure my rabbit, Esther. Here's what happened in May of 2003 when I was too tight-fisted to call the vet.

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Several times during the winter, that naughty girl had ripped up the carpet. When I took down the beaded curtain and the door was back in its place, she started ripping up carpet in front of it.

In April 2003, she stopped eating and all my home made remedies didn't work. When I went with her to the vet, I was told that Esther had been ingesting the rug and the vet managed to dislodge a lump that was blocking her intestine.

Esther ate well for a few weeks and then stopped again

I was extremely fed up at being broke and having to pay bills that I tried to cure her at home. By early May, nothing had worked?not even rubbing her belly or giving her canned pumpkin through a syringe.

After breakfast one morning, I went down to the radio room to check on her. When I tried opening the door, something seemed to be blocking it. I pushed it hard, thinking that a bundle of junk mail had fallen over.

To my horror, it was Esther's body that jammed the door.

She lay next to a puddle of pumpkin that had risen in her throat .I mentally kicked myself because I should have taken her to the vet again, but I'd been too cheap.

I resolved then and there not to adopt any more pets of any kind, until I was in a better financial position and had a reliable way to get medical help for them.

Then I wept.

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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.

ANOTHER Unforgettable SUPERVISOR.

In my previous post, I mentioned a supervisor at Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind who made me wait in her car for an hour and all for wearing the wrong sort of shoes. Among the apathetic or downright hostile personnel at that institution, a few actually cared about us boys.

From Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I present this story of how one man took the time to encourage me, even though I didn't appreciate it at the time. In this excerpt, I returned to the institution after going home for Easter. This man helped me face another ten-week exile from my family in Fort Saskatchewan, Alberta.

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A new weekday supervisor appeared at the dorm. I liked him immediately. Mr. Duberry was a relatively young, dark-haired gentleman from England. His accent made it hard at first for us to understand what he said. This led to more of the same humorous confusion of terms as we had with Mrs. Fletcher. One example was when I showed him a plastic ball which I painted with model paint. He kept pronouncing the word "bowl" which caused me to wonder how bowls related to my handiwork.

Mr. Duberry treated us equitably and took an interest in our personal growth. I must admit he did annoy me with his lectures at times. When I complained about the school and how I wished I was home, he would invariably say, "There are worse places for a lad to be than here. Make something of yourself and look on the bright side of life. Use your initiative and take advantage of your opportunities. You have your whole life ahead of you."

I remained silent and stared at the floor when he made statements like those. His advice changed nothing in my world. This man was free to go wherever he pleased whereas I had no choice but to attend Jericho.

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In July of 1968, Mr Duberry wrote my parents. In his letter, he urged them to remove me from that school because it was destroying my character. I also received an anonymous document condemning abuses of power at Jericho. I suspect it was written by this decent gentleman. Since he was replaced by a mean-spirited supervisor in September, I suspect that the administration fired him for not protesting their dishonesty.

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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

ONE MISTAKE WAS ONE TOO MANY FOR ONE SUPERVISOR.

Have you ever been left alone in a car when you were young? It's one of the worst things a parent or guardian can do to children. Apart from the danger of paedophiles, confining them to the car without supervision is a form of psychological abuse.

In my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, I wrote of the times when adults, who ought to have known better, left me alone in a vehicle while they enjoyed themselves. In this excerpt, I was punished by a mean supervisor at Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind because I put on the wrong kind of shoes.

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I upset Mrs. Parker often and this Easter was no exception. One rainy afternoon, she drove us to Stanley Park. As I stepped out of the car, she noticed I wore the wrong type of shoes. "I told you to put on your rubbers. Can't you do anything right?" I sat in the back seat, feeling wretched.

"Since you're so stupid and dense, you'll have to sit in this car and wait for the rest of us," Mrs. Parker ordered.

"Can I listen to the radio?" I timidly asked.

"No you can't. You sure have nerve asking that after you've inconvenienced all of us with your thoughtlessness. You sit there in the back seat. We'll be back in an hour."

It seemed much longer than sixty minutes as I waited while the rest of the dorm enjoyed their walk. I had nothing else to do but let my imagination entertain me. As Dad often left me in his Volkswagen while he went into the bar, this punishment was similar. I felt livid. Adults seemed incredibly selfish and mean-spirited. They possessed absolute power over us and yet some abused it for their own ends.

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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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

HAPPY EASTER, BUT NOT FOR SOME.

Easter is normally an exciting time of year for children. They eagerly look forward to all the chocolate and candy goodies that the Easter Bunny, a.k.a. mom or dad, brings to them. The weather in northern latitudes also improves dramatically, allowing them to play outside without bundling up like Arctic explorers. Then there's the days spent away from the routine of school. This period varies from one region to another.

In Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I wrote about how I not only was sent five-hundred miles from home to a residential school but I had to stay in the dorm over the Easter holidays three times. As this excerpt shows, I felt deeply hurt that one Alberta boy's parents sent him a plane ticket so he could go home while mine didn't.

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I faced another lonely Easter away from home with even more sadness in my heart than the previous year. I felt particularly grieved that Brian's parents paid for his plane ticket, allowing him to be with his loved ones. "Why couldn't Mom and Dad buy me a plane ticket home?" I kept asking myself.

My morale sank even lower when Mrs. Parker drove us to the airport one midnight to see Brian off. We all waved and said good-bye as our fortunate friend boarded the jet, each of us silently envying him. As our supervisor drove us back to Jericho, we discussed Brian's privilege of having an Easter vacation at home.

"Farmers must be rich since Brian's parents can have him sent home for Easter," I grumped. Mrs. Parker overheard and jumped on that remark. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Farmers aren't rich; Brian's parents love him. Don't you realize how much airplane tickets cost." Though she was right regarding farmers, I felt wounded due to her insensitive rebuke.

As we cruised through the dark rain-drenched streets, I pondered why my parents refused to buy me a ticket as well so I could leave for a few weeks. Did they not care at all about me?

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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 book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

RABBITS AT PLAY

Did you know that rabbits love to play? This is a fact that many people, who never have lived with a bunny in their house, find surprising. Even so, these animals enjoy themselves in their own inimitable way.

As dogs and cats become frisky on occasions, rabbits will suddenly dash around the room for the sheer joy of running. In my When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) memoir, I wrote of the time my rabbit, Gideon, discovered the joys of racing at top speed in the hallway of the house I rented at the time. I was often distracted from my writing in the mornings by the sound of his exuberant charging back and forth. Watching his obvious pleasure in his new game gave me immense enjoyment too.

Other rabbits also demonstrated their sense of fun throughout the years. Neutrino, named after a song by Klaatu, loved to push toys out of a cardboard tube used by builders to make concrete pillars. I suppose it seemed like a burrow to him. The odds and ends I shoved back into it was like dirt that caved in. We spent many happy moments playing this game.

Cardboard bunny houses are one of the most entertaining toys for both them and their humans. Every rabbit I've had enjoyed them. All I did was to cut an entrance in each end of a box and place it on the floor. My bunnies chewed on their houses, hopped on top of them, and even napped inside them. When I placed an old phone book inside, the rabbits spent many happy hours shredding the pages.

My rabbit-loving friends and I also placed hay in toilet paper tubes to encourage them to eat more of this beneficial food. Like children, bunnies would rather eat treats than something that helps their digestion. The coarse fibres in hay also prevents their teeth from growing too long. In addition, placing hay inside the tubes made it fun for them to eat. My rabbits often tossed them around while they dined.

In my When a Man Loves a Rabbit book, I also wrote about a fun toy I made for my long-eared friends. Here's how it came about.

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During the summer, I invented a cool bunny toy. My PC had
ruined a fair number of CD-R disks and I was idly examining
one when an idea struck me. I found a toilet paper tube,
flattened it and turned it into a spindle. Then I shoved it through the centre of the disk. The toy rolled back and forth and made a
satisfactory noise, from a rabbit's viewpoint.

All three of my lads loved the new plaything and my house
was filled with the distinctive sound of their game. The only
problem with my new invention was that the aluminum coating
on the disk started to peel. I scraped it off, so that the rabbits
wouldn't ingest it and that solved the problem.

When I told the folks on PetBunny about my new invention,
people liked the idea so much that they started making them for
their bunnies.

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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.

LEARN FROM MY FAMILY'S TRAGEDY.

Is it better to make the same mistakes as others or to learn from their misfortunes? The answer is obvious. Like millions of families, we bought a young bunny at Easter without knowing how to look after her. As has happened in many other households, our rabbit ended up in a backyard hutch and died a few months later due to our neglect. This need not have happened. These pets can live up to ten years with proper care and loving attention, things which we never provided our trusting bunny.

I wrote When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) in the hope that novice rabbit owners would read and be forewarned regarding impulse purchases of living creatures. Here's an excerpt from it that describes the easily-avoidable tragedy of buying live animals on a whim.

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On a snowy day in April 1968, my mom and I visited the downtown Edmonton Eaton's department store and we spotted some blond-coloured rabbits in a raised pen.

On a whim, Mom decided to buy one to surprise my sister Diane. Because of the rabbit's wiggly nose, we named her Samantha, after the character in the Bewitched television show.

Diane and I enjoyed our new pet. We loved stroking her soft golden fur and her silky ears. Both of us giggled when Samantha tickled our faces with her whiskers and licked our fingers.

Unfortunately, we weren't as gentle as we could have been with her. We thought it was hilarious when Samantha kicked her legs spasmodically when placed on her back in somebody's lap. We often improperly carried that poor bunny and were entirely too noisy around her.

As I was attending Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind in Vancouver, I was only able to be with Samantha over the Easter holidays. Sent home at the end of June, I discovered that she was kept in a large wooden hutch in the backyard. When I asked Mom why, she said that the mess the rabbit made had become too much for her to bear.

I visited Samantha the first evening of my summer vacation and when I knelt and looked in on her, she hopped from the main part of her cage to her private quarters. I opened the door on the side and she glared at me with large brown eyes?as if I were intruding.
I felt rejected by her.

Besides, it was boring watching a bunny through the wire.

I soon lost interest and the poor animal ended up alone most of the time as we went about our daily activities.

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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.

PROTECT YOUR HOME FROM YOUR HOUSE RABBIT.

Did you know that you can keep bunnies in your house in the same way that dogs and cats are kept? These animals can be litter trained and they enjoy hanging out with their humans. In Fact, it's cruel to leave these sociable creatures alone in backyard cages where they receive little attention. With certain precautions, and depending on the animal's personality, rabbits can enjoy the freedom of their caretaker's homes.

In my When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) memoir, I explained how I learned, both from friends and from experience, how to coexist with my long-eared companions. Here's a summery of just a few facts that I learned.

Rabbits love to chew on electrical cords. Protect them by either hiding them behind heavy furniture that fits close to the wall or put them inside cord wrap plastic tubes that automotive and electrical stores sell. I've found that this helps keep bunnies safe from being shocked in most cases. Some persistent rabbits may manage to chew through the plastic wrap tubes. Covering them with aluminum tape helps to prevent this. In extreme cases, cords can be slipped through an old garden hose. If the plug on the end is too big to go through, slit the hose down its side and insert the cord. Then tape it up with aluminum tape. This product can be found at hardware stores.

Rabbits sometimes chew or dig up carpets, particularly against walls. I solved the problem by filling empty four litre jugs with water and lining the walls with them. Not only did this help deter my bunnies but I had a ready supply of water with which I could flush the toilet or use to wash my face during power failures. As I have a well, I can't use it during blackouts.

Some rabbits insist on chewing up furniture and door posts. I've found that squirting vinegar or smearing hand soap on the chewed-on area usually deterred them. Placing a barrier made from wire grids, sometimes called Neat Idea Cubes, has helped in extreme cases. These square, metal grids, measuring fourteen inches per side, are also handy for making barriers to block off areas where I didn't want bunnies to be.

I've also had rabbits chew holes in my blankets and clothing. Removing them from the bunny's reach or barring them from my bedroom has worked, as has holding down their heads for a few seconds when they try to nibble what I'm wearing. violent punishment doesn't work with rabbits as they assume that they're being attacked. It results in them fearing their punisher rather than being deterred from doing their naughty activities. Distracting them with safe things to chew and dig is a more effective approach.

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.

ANIMAL SHELTER WARNED THE PUBLIC OF BUYING BUNNIES ON A WHIM

In spite of many warnings on the news, parents still buy bunnies for their begging children around easter. Even so, some progress is being made by those of us who have long advocated for proper rabbit care.

In April of 2000, an Edmonton TV station interviewed me regarding this perennial problem. The reporters also went to the city's animal shelter and interviewed the caretakers about the abandoned bunnies they receive each year. I uploaded the clip to YouTube and you can watch it at this link.

I also wrote about the day I was interviewed in my When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) memoir. This is how the interview went.

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One day, I got a call from A-Channel, a television station in Edmonton that was eager for a novel story angle. For the past couple of Easters, I'd been campaigning about the harm in buying rabbits for children. Most of my letters to various radio stations, newspapers, and TV stations had been ignored, until A- Channel called.

A camera crew, consisting of reporter Stacey Brotzel and a man who videotaped my bunnies, arrived at my house the next afternoon. Stacey was surprised when Gideon hopped into his litter box and started eating hay. I'm certain that she had never seen a rabbit use a litter box.

"Look at that!" she exclaimed.

She asked the cameraman, whose name I can't recall, to get a shot of my bunny boy. I felt embarrassed when the poor man tried to step over the cardboard barrier, but didn't quite make it. Fortunately, no damage was done to him or to the camera he carried on his shoulder.

Stacey and the cameraman must have used at least a half hour of tape as they shot Buns doing cute things in his cage and Gideon being his princely self. While they filmed, I straightened the cardboard sheet out and propped it back in the doorway.

When the footage aired during the six o'clock news, there were only thirty seconds of my bunnies and me. There was also a short segment on how the SPCA staff wanted the public to think first before adopting rabbits. A guest doctor explained that when rabbits hit puberty and the novelty wore off, many were returned or dumped outside by disappointed owners.

It didn't take long before the next news story was on and our short TV appearance was over. But thanks to an advertising video which the IGA grocery chain sent to home owners in my area, I was able to record the broadcast and once again watch all those sweet rabbits at the shelter. I was delighted that I had received useful junk mail in my letter box for a change.

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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.

STOP! DON'T BUY THAT BUNNY FOR EASTER!

"We had one, but it died."

These are, perhaps, the saddest words I've ever heard.

Too many parents buy rabbits, especially at Easter, thinking that a bunny will be a good pet for their children. After a few months, the novelty wears off and the poor animal becomes neglected.

Many once-beloved bunnies end up in a backyard hutch where they succumb to disease or heatstroke, or die of fright from predators. Others are dumped in parks or similar open spaces where they become dinner for various carnivores. Those animals who survive the trials of weather, disease and infighting among their own species, cause property owners a lot of grief because rabbits breed rapidly, eat people's prized garden plants and dig up yards.

But these heartbreaking scenarios need never happen.

Many good internet links exist specifically to help people properly care for their bunnies, ensuring that the creatures live long, happy lives. For example, the House Rabbit Society web site has ample resources to help novices with their bunny companions. The alt.pets.rabbits newsgroup is also a good place for information and the group's dedicated bunny-loving folks are more than
happy to share their tips with whoever asks. Then there is the PetBunny e-mail list where no sincere inquiry is considered stupid by its members.

Along with electronic resources, there are books on rabbit care. A book titled House Rabbit Handbook by Marinell Harriman is probably the best on the subject, and well worth reading. I too have made mistakes and been led astray by what popular opinion has said regarding rabbit care. I wrote When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) to counteract the lies and misinformation that is so prevalent in
today's society.

Through recounting my experiences, I hope that readers will learn from my mistakes, as well as my discoveries. If the trend of animal welfare awareness continues, bunnies may eventually be treated as adequately as dogs and cats are today.

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.

IS ALL CHURCH ATTENDANCE BENEFICIAL?

"How come I have to go to church?" That was the question I perennially asked the supervisors when I was young. In Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind, we were given no choice but to go to the worship Service that they assigned us to. Consequently, I felt no desire to spend Sunday mornings in the basement of Saint Helen's Anglican Church. Apart from the Bible stories and crafts, the whole affair seemed a waste of time.

A few years after giving my life to Christ in 1969, I joined a pseudo-Christian cult. Captivated by the minister's self-proclaimed gift of prophecy, I wanted to learn every secret he had to share with us. I now realize that those teachings were blatant lies and that I would have been better off staying away from that house church.

In my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir, I wrote of the time when one member's ambivalent attitude toward the Wednesday evening meetings offended me.

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Though I had temporarily stopped handing out tracts, I remained zealous about attending meetings. Because Jay and Linda's landlord sold the house so a developer could build a walk-up apartment building on the lot, we moved to a house located a few blocks from Thee Church. This was a wonderful boon since I could walk to Sister R's house instead of relying upon my minders for rides. Though I still slept on couch cushions on the floor of a basement bedroom, and the house was infested with bed bugs, being near the sole church with the "complete truth of God" made the sacrifice worthwhile to me.

Being convinced of this, the lack of enthusiasm for Brother H's teaching shown by certain members outraged me. "Aren't you coming to the meeting?" I asked Jay one sunlit Wednesday evening.

"No. You go with out me. I want to watch T.V."

I glared at him and thought, "We live only three blocks away, the weather is beautiful, Brother H is an anointed teacher, and all he can do is sit and watch his precious brand-new black-and-white T.V.?" I stormed out of the front door and strode toward Sister R's house, fuming all the way there. "Please do something about Jay, Lord," I prayed as I walked, "He told me how I should always attend church and now he's watching T.V. Please show him how it's so important to learn from Brother H."

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses.

My previous books are now available for purchase online by clicking here. You can also click here to e-mail me directly as well.

WHERE'S THAT "MARK OF THE BEAST" EH?

Various charismatic sects and misfits throughout the twentieth century have proclaimed the soon arrival of a worldwide government headed by a man who Scripture calls "the beast." Mussolini, Hitler, and even Saddam Hussein were supposed to have been this man of sin but all of them failed to do what various over-excited ministers said they would.

During the seventies, I was under the influence of a so-called prophet and Bible teacher who believed that the implementation of "the mark" was imminent. Like a fool, I believed his bogus prediction without question.

Thirty-five years ago this month, I received a call from my brother, Roy, who was frantic with worry about this prophesied event. Being a bit simple-minded, he took every word he heard literally. Here's an excerpt from How I Was Razed that demonstrates how deceived we were back then.

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An incident in March demonstrated to me once more how foolish I had been to invite Roy to Thee Church. As I finished eating supper in my room, the phone rang.

"I want to go to the rodeo at the Coliseum. Please take me to see it," Roy pleaded.

"What are you asking me for? Can't you find it yourself?"

"I'm afraid I'll get lost. I want to see the rodeo before the mark of the beast comes."

"It's not going to happen right away, Roy. Those tattoo machines are still being tested and the man of sin hasn't been revealed. The great famine hasn't happened yet either. There'll be other rodeos before then. Besides that, it's easy to get to the Coliseum by bus."

"Why can't you take me to the rodeo? I want to go so bad."

"I've got other things to do. You go if you want to see it that badly."

After arguing for a few more minutes, we said good-bye. "I guess he'll have to be sent to the Nahanni Valley city of refuge since he's so dependent on others, I grumbled.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses.

My previous books are now available for purchase online by clicking here. You may click here to e-mail me directly as well.