HOW HANGING IN THERE PAID OFF.

I sure am glad I stayed in high school and graduated back in 1975. Though a high school diploma isn't worth much these days, I feel a sense of accomplishment that I hung in there and passed grade twelve.

I nearly gave up because of the math course I took. Try as I did, I just couldn't get my mind around fractions. My poor teacher almost tore out his hair trying to get me to understand what he was getting at.

In my How I Was Razed memoir, I mentioned my high school years but not how I nearly quit. Sister Eileen drove me home from the Wednesday church meeting one June evening. As she pulled up to the sidewalk of the house in which I rented a basement room, I poured out my heart about the problems I had with math. She encouraged me to hang in for just two more weeks. Reluctantly, I agreed.

In 1991, I took a remedial mathematics class at a community college. All those equations that my high school teacher tried so hard to teach me suddenly made sense. Furthermore, the course teacher used real world problems to illustrate mathematical principles. One fact that astonished me was that it's cheaper to hire two employees working twelve-hour shifts than three working eight. Even with time-and-a-half for the last four hours of the shifts, it still works out cheaper. Discoveries such as that encouraged me to take a new look at numbers.

I also mentioned my chronic poverty in How I Was Razed memoir. I received social assistance at the time as my dad didn't give me much to live on. Even so, I couldn't afford to go to my graduation ceremony and rent a gown and cap. I did pick up my diploma from the school office afterward and handed it to my mom for safe keeping. I now have it in my safety deposit box with my other important documents.

Persistence really does pay off, as I found out. When things get tough, I've learned to take my problems to the Lord and leave the things I can't change in his hands. Like we used to say on the CB radio, we send our signals out twenty-six miles and the Lord does the rest.

The e-book version, Kindle and Nook, of How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity can now be purchased from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm Publishers. You can also get the paperback version from Virtual Bookworm.

YOU KNOW YOUR DAD IS A CHEAPSKATE WHEN....

When children of middle income families apply for welfare because their parents are too stingy to give them enough to live on, it's disgraceful. Though the Bible does teach that we should honour our parents, it also says that a person who doesn't care for his own is worse than an infidel. At the risk of dishonouring my father, here's why I ended up on the dole.

In October of 1974, I visited the Alberta Social Services office. The woman who interviewed me that afternoon began by asking why I was applying for Social Assistance. I explained that I attended a high school in edmonton that had special counsellors. They were tasked with helping visually-impaired students by reading assignments onto tape and assisting them in filling out test papers. My parents lived in Fort Saskatchewan, twenty miles north of the city. Due to the rapid rise of inflation the previous year, my allowance from my father barely paid the rent or bought enough food to fill me.

I gave her my address but when she asked for my phone number, I admitted that I couldn't afford one. After she sent another woman to visit my tiny furnished room to ensure that I was telling the truth, she gave me food vouchers and a cheque for the next month's rent.

I felt humiliated the first time I purchased groceries with a voucher. People behind me sighed and shuffled their feet impatiently as the cashier filled out the form and had me sign it. In spite of that humiliation, I finally had enough food to satisfy my teenage apatite.

Once I cashed the cheque, I set about to make my life easier. I had a telephone installed, bought an orange cardigan, and began buying fresh produce rather than the cheapest items in the store. No longer did I have to buy mint jelly because it was twenty cents cheaper than a jar of jam. Meat became a regular part of my diet. I could even afford the occasional block of cheese. Though I was dependent on the government, having money for the good things in life cheered me greatly.

In my Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) and my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoirs, I mentioned my penury during those high school years. In upcoming blog posts, I'll be writing about topics that I could only hint at due to space limitations in those paperbacks. Read more about these compelling memoirs here. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about my books.