Once upon a two-wheeler.

When I attended a boarding school in Vancouver, British Columbia, a supervisor taught us how to ride a bicycle. Like all boys, I had my share of accidents. From my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, this is how my first and worst one happened.
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Cycling became one of my methods to escape the hopelessness of my situation. The thrill of riding at top speed down the hill caused me to temporarily forget my woes. I had my first serious bike accident one January evening. After asking Mr. Thynne's permission, I took a bike out from the storage room. As I zoomed down the road from the dorm, I saw the headlights of a car coming towards me. As I swerved to the right, my foot caught on the curb, sending me flying. Fortunately, I landed on the grass, but I twisted my right ankle. The pain nearly overwhelmed me as I picked myself up and hobbled back to the dorm, leaning on the bicycle for support.

When Mr. Moiarty drove me to the emergency ward of the hospital, I inexplicably had a fit of the giggles. Everybody in the emergency room stared at me as I laughed uncontrollably. My foot appeared twisted but the X-ray showed that no bones were broken. After a few weeks, it was as if nothing happened to my ankle.
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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. This 196-page paperback, containing 6 black and white photos, sells for $25.00 through the PayPal-equipped Inscribe writers group web site. E-mail me for further information or if you don't have PayPal and still wish to place an order.

THE BOWLING BALL CONVOY TRICK

One of Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind's proudest boasts was its two-lane bowling alley. The chief access ability feature of the facility was  a set of chrome hand railings to guide blind children as they bowled their balls. What the proud administrators failed to tell the public was that the alley lacked pin-setting machines. Two hapless students inevitably spent their entire recreational periods setting up pins and sending back balls.

Even so, the more inventive of us victims found ways to amuse ourselves. Here's an example of our mischief and how we had the last laugh on our dormitory supervisor, Mr. Moiarty.

I didn't mind going bowling and I understood that somebody needed to set up pins as well as send the balls back. Even so, I hated those tournaments which the intermediate and senior dorms held. Worse yet, Mr. Moiarty badgered me until I agreed to set up pins for the teams.

The first Saturday afternoon of the tournament was warm and sunny. Nevertheless, the weather clashed with my bleak mood as I shuffled into the bowling alley. While I was setting pins up, and before I signaled that I had moved out of the way, he decided to lob a ball down the alley.

"Get out of the way," he shouted, suddenly realizing what he had done.

"What!?" I called. The ball hit my right shin with a resounding crack. I doubled over, howling in agony. Mr. Moiarty raced down the lane to the pin-setting booth, picked me up in his arms, and carried me to the infirmary. All the way there, he apologized for not looking first. Fortunately, my shin was only bruised but it ached for a couple of weeks. However, that accident didn't excuse me from setting up pins for long. As a result, my loathing of organized sports grew rapidly that autumn.

Though working in the pin-setting booth was tedious, Geoffrey and I, who usually were sent back there, did find ways to amuse ourselves. The funniest of these was to hoard balls until the bowlers ran out of them. Then, the two of us placed almost all of the balls on the rails. Like a convoy of trucks, they rolled toward the rack. All but one traveled up the slope to where the bowlers waited. When that ball rolled slowly back toward the pin-setting booth, Geoffrey or I sent the final ball down the rails. It collided with the other ball, knocking it onto the alley and toward the door.

The game caught on with the other boys, much to Mr. Moiarty's annoyance. I happened to be at the other end of the alley one evening when he chased a rogue ball into the lobby. The ludicrous sight of our supervisor frantically grasping at and missing the ball had me doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. We considered ourselves fortunate that no punishments were meted out for showing such disrespect. However, we giggled behind Mr. Moiarty's back whenever someone mentioned our bowling ball convoy game.

You can read more of our pranks in Deliverance from Jericho: Six Years in a Blind School, available at the Bruce Atchison's books page.

THE CURSE OF PETTY BUREAUCRATS.

If I hadn't been there myself, I would scarcely believe that adults in charge of disabled children could be so feckless and corrupt. Yet it did happen and I'm not the only one who witnessed the climate of inbred mistrust at Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind. From a report by an anonymous supervisor at my dorm, here's his conclusion regarding the abuses of the public's trust which these individuals committed. ----------------------------------------------------------------- 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. ----------------------------------------------------------------- I wish I had this shocking report when I wrote my Deliverance from Jericho: Six Years in a Blind School memoir. It filled in many blanks and explained a large number of arbitrary decisions made by the administrators. Please check my book link for more information regarding my memoir of those times. You're welcome to e-mail me directly with your questions or comments.

VANDALS ALWAYS HAVE TO RUIN IT FOR THE REST.

We've all experienced this, haven't we? Authorities revoke a wonderful privilege or ban a device because of one unthinking individual's rash behaviour. Our sense of injustice is multiplied when the perpetrator of the mischief receives little or no punishment.

This excerpt from Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) shows how an expensive machine was ruined by one boy's bone-headed stunt.

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This room also contained a primitive print enlarging machine. Light from an incandescent bulb illuminated the page and lenses in a box projected it to a white translucent screen. This made reading more enjoyable. Furthermore, I discovered I could see my drawings in greater detail. Volcanoes were what I passionately enjoyed sketching at the time. I created my own "television shows" based on what I drew. I loved that machine and used it often that autumn.

I felt devastated when Jimmy yielded to a destructive urge and jumped off the top of the bookshelf one Saturday. He deliberately put his foot through that remarkable print enlarger. I don't recall if Jimmy received punishment for his vandalism but the school removed the machine and they never replaced it.

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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 GREAT CANDY CONTEST OF 1967.

Now that all the trick-or-treating is over, children across North America have an ample supply of goodies. Even so, parents usually dole out candies, peanuts, and other snacks to their children during the first weeks of this month. Though kids would rather eat as much of their halloween swag as they want, they understand that this rationing is for their own good.

In this excerpt from Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), my fellow dorm mates and I received the rare privilege of keeping all of our halloween stash. This is what we wisely decided to do with our windfall.

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Those of us who were new to the dorm felt pleasantly surprised when no supervisor confiscated our goodies. For the first time at Jericho, the authorities actually trusted us with our Halloween treats. I stashed mine in my locker and rejoiced that my candies were not seized "for my own good."

"I don't know about you guys but I'm going to try and make my candies last," I announced the next evening.

"Yeah, let's have a contest to see who can make theirs last the longest," Geoffrey encouraged. All four of us roommates agreed and carefully hoarded our bootie. Though we had a monumental struggle to resist the siren call of the treats in our lockers, I felt proud of myself for being one of the last to run out of candy.

I grudgingly ate the apples first to prevent them from going bad, remembering all those "starving children in India" lectures from grownups. Apples weren't much of a treat compared to chocolates, popcorn balls, peanuts, caramel kisses, and other sweets but they were better than nothing.

This process of sorting and hoarding taught me to conserve my candy and make it last for a couple of weeks. Every single one of us prized the privilege of being trusted with our treats and did not want to lose it by becoming ill from overeating.

We did, however, yield to temptation in another matter. Weeks passed as we waited impatiently for someone to collect the UNICEF money boxes. I felt no qualms when I spent those pennies since I rationalized we were needy children too and deserved the cash. The other boys shamelessly spent their UNICEF donations as well.

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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.

NEVER ASK A LADY'S AGE?

One thing I never understood when I was young was why everybody could ask my age but I couldn't ask how old a grown-up was. This hypocrisy was dramatically brought to my attention when I was sent to Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind. I lacked the space to include this story in Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) so I'm relating it here.

I forget where we were headed that hazy Saturday morning in October of 1964 but I remember that I and the others were going for a walk around the grounds with Mrs. Sandyford. She was our weekend supervisor. As we walked, she asked our ages.

Knowing little of the social morays of adults at the time, I innocently asked, "How old are you, Mrs. Sandyford?"

"You should never ask a lady's age," she admonished. "It's not polite."

"How come?"

"Well," she faltered, "you just shouldn't, that's all. Women don't like to be asked how old they are."

"How come?" I insisted.

She turned to another child and began talking to him. The way she wouldn't look at me and the tone in her voice suggested that I was being a naughty boy. I decided not to ask her any more questions.

Though women today are more open and less vain about their ages, I still am cautious about asking such personal questions. It really doesn't matter how old a person is in years. Maturity of attitude is the important factor in a person's character. I've met some mature children and some immature adults in my five decades of life. My hope is that I'm one person who others feel has learned wisdom.

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're also welcome to contact me directly.

THOSE TRICKS WEREN'T FOR US KIDS.

Children usually forgive tricks played on them by adults. Lying is a different matter. The quickest way for an adult to lose the trust of children is to trick them with a lie and then refuse to apologize for it. I don't need a degree in child psychology to know this is true.

On September 20th, I posted an excerpt from Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) about a singularly disagreeable supervisor charged with our care each weekday. Here's how he retaliated when we complained too much about the early morning runs he forced on us.

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The strain on Mr. Thynne of urging twelve reluctant boys to do his bidding finally took its toll. Everybody groaned and complained so bitterly that he gave up enforcing his exercise plan. He decided that, since we refused to exert ourselves voluntarily, he would trick us into it. We were relaxing after supper when he came rushing in and exclaimed, "There's a fire on Eighth Avenue! Quick! Come and see it! Hurry before it goes out!"

We all ran down the stairs, out of the dorm, and up to the gate in the chain-link fence. Those of us with vision glanced all around for smoke and flames. "Where's the fire?" several of us asked as we strained to detect any sign of a conflagration.

"I just said that to get you guys to exercise," Mr. Thynne admitted. We groaned in unison and trudged sheepishly back to the dorm.

Because Mr. Thynne's conduct and attitude disgusted us, we had no respect for him. We nicknamed our supervisor "pretty boy" and "Mr. Knackers" behind his back. Life was bad enough with Mr. Moiarty on the weekends but now this singularly disagreeable man was running our lives all week.

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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.

THE POINT OF NO RETURNING.

Most children dread going back to school. Nevertheless, they accept it as an inevitable part of being a kid. Unlike regular students, I feared being sent back to my former residential institution for a far different reason. Though I attended a public school in Edmonton, beginning in 1970, and went home on weekends, a nagging worry haunted me that I would again be exiled five hundred miles from my family for months at a stretch.

In Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I described the ecstasy I felt when I suddenly realized that I would never be sent back to that soul-destroying institution. Here's what I wrote.

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The fear of being returned to Jericho lessened as I attended public school but it never quite disappeared. One September afternoon, a sudden realization struck me. The officials could no longer send me back to Jericho. That school only went up to grade ten. During the past two years, I managed to catch up with the rest of my schoolmates.

Because the public school curriculum was a year ahead of Jericho's, I needed to work hard at first in order to earn mediocre marks. Even so, my report cards conclusively proved that I could learn along with my sighted peers. I suddenly realized that I was fully integrated into the public system and had no need to fear being institutionalized again. The joy which swept over me was palpable. I danced around my housekeeping room for five minutes straight, gleeful that I was home to stay. "They can't send me back!" I repeated to myself. That was one of the happiest days of my high school years.

A teacher at Jericho had once told me that exceptional students did receive tutoring for grade eleven and twelve. I would have refused to go back to Jericho in any case since I proved my ability to learn in the public system. I was almost sixteen and conscious that I was a human being with rights. Though I did not matriculate, I passed grade twelve and received my diploma. My heart swelled with pride that I accomplished such a feat.

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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.

STALAG JERICHO

Would I seem melodramatic if I occasionally refer to Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind as a prison camp? It had no armed guards in towers equipped with machine guns. Neither did it have search lights, delousing stations, vicious guard dogs, and barbed wire around the perimeter. How then could I and my dorm mates call it a prison?

In Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I wrote about the unnatural way we were housed, fed, and poorly educated at that institution. The administrators micromanaged our activities so that we couldn't even go unescorted to the local store to buy chocolate bars. A supervisor took all of us there once a week like prisoners on a day pass. One particularly nasty "dorm parent" treated us like POWs, as I point out in the following excerpt.

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Back at the dorm, we had a new weekday supervisor whom I shall call Mr. Thynne. He was a tall man in his twenties, whose voice had an annoying whining quality to it. Everyone hated him almost instantly. One of his first unpopular ideas was to make us run up and down Eighth Avenue at seven o'clock in the morning.

The rising sun appeared as red as our eyes felt when we dressed hurriedly. "Come on, you lazy bums," he goaded as we struggled into our clothes, "You boys need to get your exercise."

When everybody lined up at the gate, he addressed us like a drill sergeant. "Listen to me. You boys will run each morning for fifteen minutes. It's not gonna kill you to do a little running." When we began to murmur, he said, "Stop whining. You boys don't get enough exercise so I'm going to make sure you do."

After the first few mornings of these pre-breakfast runs, even Charlie grumbled. Mr. Thynne refused to heed our pleas for rest and resorted to insults whenever we slowed down.

Michael summed up our feelings eloquently after one morning jog. "He's running this place like a bloody prison camp." All of us heartily agreed.

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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 SHORT-SIGHTED APPROACH TO PROVIDING VISION AIDS.

Why didn't my parents buy me even basic visual aids before I attended grade eight? Any thinking person would have figured out that a boy with poor sight would need a monocular to read the blackboard and a proper magnifying glass for reading the textbooks. It wasn't until mid September of 1970 before my parents did anything to get the adaptive tools I needed.

From Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), here is how I had to scrounge together or do without visual aids when I was reintegrated into the public school system.

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I was ill-equipped, from a visual aids standpoint, to enter the public system. Since teachers scrawled assignments on the blackboard without verbalizing what they wrote, I needed to ask somebody what the teacher had written. Mom solved this difficulty when she took me to the CNIB to purchase a monocular. This visual aid magnified distant objects, allowing me to read the blackboard.

Some solutions to my visual aids deficiency were improvised. When my landlady gave me a couple of magnifying glasses, neither one enlarged print to the size I needed. Then I made a discovery. If I placed both together, the text book print became legible. A few years later, Mom arranged for an optometrist to grind a strong magnifying glass for me. That made reading even easier since I did not need to hold both glasses together.

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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.

IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME.

How many times have you rushed into something, then regretted it for years? This problem is common to all of us. Some people, including me, get fired up about some activity and become obsessed with involving others in it. Then reality sets in and brings us back down to earth with a resounding thud.

From Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), here's an excerpt that shows how trusting and foolish I became when I had a pair of two-way radios.

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Back at the dorm that September, I thought I would have fun with my new walkie-talkies. I faced the same predicament as I did at home, namely finding somebody to use one at some distance from me. Charlie agreed to take one transceiver and walk to the top of the school grounds while I made my way down the hill. As I walked, I felt eager to learn how far I could travel and still communicate with him.

The experiment was going well until Charlie said, "I'm not going to give you back your walkie-talkie. I think I'll just keep it. What ya gonna do about that, Atchison?" Horrified, I begged him to return it. Once Charlie felt satisfied with my pleadings, he agreed to give it back. I never let any boy use the walkie-talkies after that. The two-way radios remained in my locker until Christmas. I removed the batteries and used them to power my broadcast receiver.

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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.

WELL-INTENTIONED DAMAGE

I've heard that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. How true that is. We've all had some well-meaning friend or authority figure ruin something we spent hours making, toss out something we needed, or buy us an inappropriate present. Certain churlish individuals act out of spite but most folks just don't realize the consequences of their deeds.

The motives of those who sent me five hundred miles from home for months at a stretch might have been either honourable or malicious. Whatever they were, I left that institution socially stunted. From Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), here's an excerpt that demonstrates the extent of my cultural deprivation.

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My social skills were likewise inadequate from being isolated in Jericho. As a result, I rarely gazed at people who spoke to me. My knowledge of etiquette, beyond saying "please" and "thank-you," was nonexistent. No one even taught me to hold doors open for ladies.

My conversation skills were similarly insufficient. I often answered questions without asking people any. My isolation made relating to sighted students and their activities difficult. They also regarded me as an oddity at best and a freak at worst.

Many of my social blunders were due to adopting mannerisms from the other children at Jericho. I often stared at the ceiling, rocked back and fourth, and held my head at an odd angle. These visually distracting habits were inoffensive to totally blind people but they bothered my sighted acquaintances.

Years later, a church friend told me that I was difficult to be with at first. "You're a likeable person now," she confided.

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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.

THE BEST PLAYGROUND OF ALL.

What was your favourite place to play when you were a child? For me, it was a tract of undeveloped land on a residential school compound. Armed with only my imagination, I spent many happy recesses and hours after school exploring it. In my mind, it became everything from Sherwood Forest to an alien planet. It also helped me fend off my chronic homesickness.

From Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), here's an excerpt that tells how we lost that marvellous play area due to government officials and their uninformed idea of what sort of recreation we would enjoy.

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During my time at Jericho, I fell in love with the small forest behind the classrooms and the plain above it. Whenever I played in that undeveloped area, I felt free from the supervisors and their judgmental scrutiny. That natural wonderland became my refuge. Therefore, I felt absolutely horrified when I saw what had happened to it. Landscapers had ripped it up and put in sidewalks and shrubs. Worse yet, the grownups admonished everybody not to play in the shrubbery and to keep to the sidewalks. The plain above the school, once a wild mix of boulders and mud, now had sod, a cinder track for running, and a path for walking.

Other unwelcome changes took place too. The strip of lawn, which we used for soccer, was also gone from behind the school. Dirty grey sand and a few large rocks were spread in its place. A set of swings and teeter-totters were erected by the grade two classroom. Next to it, a pyramid-shaped wooden structure with a built-in slide had been constructed. Behind the Music Room a concrete bunker had been built. It had an open door on the lower level and a hole in the ceiling with a metal ladder going up to the roof. This was level with a sidewalk and a wall ran around the top of the edifice to prevent children from falling off.

Though playground equipment was installed, its novelty soon wore off. In fact, some boys only used the bunker as a convenient place to urinate. While we did play reluctantly on the new equipment, it was highly inferior to the natural playground we had lost.

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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.

THE COLD WIND OF FREEDOM.

Remember back in 1991 when the Soviet Union collapsed? People in satellite countries and former USSR republics immediately found themselves without masters. For the first time in their lives, these folks had to make their own decisions rather than relying upon the government.

Like the former citizens of the Soviet Union, I had to learn quickly how to make my own personal decisions. In many cases, people assumed that I ought to know how to do this without being told. From Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), here's an excerpt that demonstrates how unprepared I was in 1970 for freedom.

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Because of being cloistered at Jericho, I lacked the social graces and mobility skills which children learn as a matter of course. The culture shock of returning to the public school system proved difficult for me to cope with. The tumult from hundreds of children alone disoriented me. I forgot how loud the hallways became when classes ended. Since we now went to different rooms for every subject, I needed to learn quickly where each was.

As I habitually walked to school when I attended grade one in Fort Saskatchewan, I assumed that I was supposed to travel the same way to my new school. I came in late the first few days since I kept underestimating the time it would take to walk there.

My teacher sent me to the principal's office on the third morning. "You are expected to be in class on time. Why were you late again today?" he demanded as he glared at me through his black horn-rimmed glasses..

"I live fifteen blocks away and it takes a long time to walk that distance."

"Why don't you take the bus then?"

"I don't know how," I admitted as I stared at the floor.

"You'd better learn to take the bus or find a ride with someone. You can't keep coming late to school."

My mobility skills were so deficient that I had no clue regarding how to catch a bus. The first time I tried, I did not know where to deposit the fare. "Stop fooling around," the bus driver demanded as I searched for the box. In desperation, I placed the coins on his hat which he left on the dash board.

Nobody told me that I qualified for a special bus pass which would allow me to ride for free. "Why don't you have a CNIB pass?" one driver asked. "If you can't see well, you should be allowed to have one."

Mom set up an eye exam appointment and, once the proper forms were filled out, I was the proud owner of my own pass. The freedom of not having to pay fifteen cents per ride as well as being able to travel wherever I wanted delighted 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 compelling story. 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.