FLYING HIGH BUT ONLY IN MY DREAMS

Isn't it just the way it goes? The folks who love flying don't get as many opportunities as those who dread boarding a plane. If I had good vision, I'd love to have my own aircraft.

This isn't a new desire of mine. As a child, I dreamt of piloting my own plane. In fact, there was a period in the autumn of 1968 when I kept dreaming night after night about soaring high above the land.

The plane I piloted was like the one in the above photo, though it had a yellow body. In each dream, I felt great affection for my aircraft. I also felt a sense of freedom which I lacked in my waking hours at Jericho Hill School.

I've heard that dreams of flight are a subconscious manifestation of a wish to be free. In view of the dreams I've had, I can well understand that theory. Jericho was oppressive to me. For the first seven years of my life, I was a free person. Mom let me and my sister play wherever we felt like. As long as we came home for lunch or dinner, she was happy. Even when I went to public school, I still felt free.

Then came that dreadful shock in 1964 when I found myself five-hundred miles from home and no possibility to return until Christmas. I also lived with a dozen blind boys in a sterile dorm ruled by a supervisor. We were marched down to a rickety dining hall three times a day like prisoners and the food there was terrible. I couldn't even play wherever I felt like since the supervisor made us stay in a group.

For that reason, and a few others, I treasure my independence. Only on God do I want to rely. Never again do I want to be in a highly structured environment like Jericho. The ability to eat what I want and go wherever I can is a precious treasure. So is eating whatever I feel like and going to bed when I want to. Even wearing whatever clothes catch my fancy in the closet is a thrill.

To better understand how suddenly being plunged into the alien world of an institution at a young age is like, purchase Deliverance from Jericho: Six Years in a Blind School. Not only do I describe life there in a matter-of-fact way but I relate the mischief we got into. It was harmless foolery but the authorities didn't think so. Sometimes, we even got away with things when temporary supervisors were there.

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.