"Why should the Devil have all the good music?"

Today's christian teens have access to a wide choice of God-honouring music. Thirty-five years ago, this genre was in its infancy. LPs by a handful of Christian rockers were often found only in a few specialty record shops. Apart from Sweathog and Ocean, the latter being a pop group, I heard no Christian acts on the local rock station. Through the Edmonton Public Library's record collection and a friend I met through the Full Gospel Fellowship International, I discovered that there were artists and groups who really rocked for the rock. Here are just a few of these pioneers.

Larry Norman, who passed away in February of 2008, has a website where his CDs are available for purchase. The stock keeps changing as his organization has limited editions of his albums pressed or burned to CD-R. Even so, Larry's music was ground-breaking and unique. He often received criticism from older Christians for his songs due to the popular belief that the beat was a Satanic influence on teens.

Resurrection Band, also known as Rez Band and Rez, started out as part of a larger band called Charity in 1972. When the Jesus People community in Milwaukee split into four groups, the members moved to Chicago. As rock music was thought of as the Devil's tool by many Christian record companies, they had difficulty finding one that would sign them. They released two independent cassettes of hard rock before being signed to Star Song Records four years later. After going through stylistic and personnel changes, they broke up in 2000. The Resurrection Band site is inaccessible to screen readers but it has pictures of the group and audio of the band's music.

Stryper burst onto the music scene in the mid-eighties as a "white metal" overtly Christian band. Dressed in yellow and black, they often tossed Bibles into the audience during concerts. The group broke up in 1992, reforming and touring in 2003. Two years later, they recorded the album called Reborn and in 2009, they released Murder By Pride. Stryper, at the time of this writing, is still performing and touring. Samples of the two newest album tracks can be heard at the Stryper site. Information and photos of the band are also there.

Daniel Amos Band, also called D.A. or Da, formed in southern California, playing acoustic guitar music at coffee houses during 1974. They released their self-titled album two years later. Their 1977 LP, Shotgun Angel, showed the band's shift from country to rock stylings. The band went on to record rock albums such as Horrendous Disc and ¡Alarma! until some of the members started a side project called The Swirling Eddies in the late eighties. Daniel Amos came together again in the nineties for several more albums and concerts. Their music is still available at the Daniel Amos site.

In my upcoming memoir, How I Was Razed, I tell of how the cult church elders criticized me for the music I loved and how a handful of Christian rock records strengthened my faith. I also mentioned my passion for secular rock music in my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir. More information about it can be found at the Inscribe writers group page.

The principle of one principal.

Did you ever get punished for something that was not your fault, even when you tried desperately to explain yourself? I had the misfortune to be doing the wrong thing at the wrong time back in 1966. In those days, corporal punishment was still practiced in the educational system. Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind was no exception. From my memoir, Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), here is one example of when I was unjustly discipline.

-----------------------------------------------------------------
In all my time at Jericho, only once was I unjustly strapped. One rainy November afternoon, a small riot broke out in Mrs. McMaster's class. As we waited for her to arrive, the noise level of our chatter rose steadily. Soon children began pushing each other off of their chairs. Mrs. McMaster stood in the doorway and tried to regain order. My classmates were making too much noise to notice her. She turned on her heel and fetched the principal.

"Alright you kids, whoever's standing - come with me!" Mr. Brice thundered. I had been pushed off my chair and stood looking for a place to sit when the principal rounded me up with the other rioters and sent us to his office. One by one, we had our hands slapped with the strap.

"I wasn't doing anything wrong," I protested through my tears. I started explaining why I was out of my seat when our principal interrupted. "Don't lie to me. I saw you standing in class. Go back to your room and behave from now on." I followed the other boys back to the Music Room, fuming at the injustice of it all.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

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 sells for $25.00 through the PayPal-equipped Inscribe writers group website. It also contains 6 black and white photographs.

Royalty in the rain.

Though my exile to Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind was a hardship, it did provide experiences that I may never have had. One of those was being in the presence of Prince Philip. From my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, here is the account of how it happened.

Jericho received a second important visitor that year, and his coming temporarily took my mind off my troubles. Prince Philip visited Canada and one of his many stops was in Vancouver. Though a steady drizzle fell all that day, everybody was in a state of heightened anticipation. Before the prince was due to arrive, a woman from the Administration Building knocked on each classroom door to brief us. "All of you kids must wait by the parking lot to welcome His Highness," she instructed. "None of you is to stand on the road. You wait on the sidewalk next to it. Here are some Union Jacks for you to wave when the motorcade comes." The woman handed Mr Lao a box of flags to distribute to us and left.

The same messenger returned a while later to announce that the prince was about to arrive. Everyone crowded around the parking lot's perimeter, waiting for the big moment. "He's coming!" the woman proclaimed. As we franticly waved our Union Jacks, two long black vehicles drove swiftly around the lot before stopping in front of the bowling alley and swimming pool. The Jericho staff had erected a covered podium on the lawn next to the building, where we all dutifully gathered, waved our flags, and listened attentively. Since I was at the back of the crowd, I could not see what our regal visitor looked like. After a school staff member introduced the prince, he stepped up to the microphone. "I see your weathermen must have known of my visit here today. All this rain makes me feel quite at home," he quipped. I failed to understand why everyone rocked with laughter, not knowing how habitually damp the climate of England was. His Highness then delivered a long speech filled with the sort of generalities which members of the Royal Family are wont to say at public appearances. My mind wandered as the prince spoke, so I am unable to recall specific details of his speech. All I remember was that some important person with a posh accent was droning on and on while we became increasingly chilled.

After Prince Philip finished and the school officials thanked him for visiting, His Highness' staff members gave all of us blind students a ride in their black limousines. I suspect the deaf children were given the same privilege. The size of the vehicle to which we were led astonished me. I had never seen any car that large before. It even had a set of grey folding chairs which were squeezed between the front and back seats, allowing many of us to fit in each vehicle. I was not in the car with the prince but my group rode with two other officials. As the chauffeur drove through downtown Vancouver, we were oblivious of the honour granted to us. My classmates and I became engrossed in chatting among ourselves while the men in the front seat discussed arrangements for His Highness' next appointment.

When we returned to our classrooms, Tracy, a platinum blond intermediate dorm girl with a bossy voice, came around to collect our flags. "We don't have them anymore. Some deaf kids yanked them out of our hands and ran away," several of us lied. I felt strongly tempted to hand mine back to Tracy and expose the deception we agreed to but my nerve failed me. I never heard if punishments were meted out to those unfortunate students who we blamed, but we justified our covetousness by thinking that we ought to have been given those flags as mementos.

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 sells for $25.00 through the PayPal-equipped Inscribe writers group website. It also contains 6 black and white photographs.

A tribute to a caring supervisor.

Life in a boarding school can be painfully lonely. Because of this, little gestures of thoughtfulness by the staff matter greatly to those children forced to live there. Whenever kind-hearted employees buck the trend of being disinterested minders, they make life bearable for the institution's students. From my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, here's an excerpt that relates one man's generosity toward us inmates.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Our supervisor pleased us all with an outing on the evening before Halloween. "We're going to have a bonfire. Everyone come and follow me," he announced at the door to each bedroom. We eagerly grabbed our coats, put our shoes on, and followed him to the brow of the hill overlooking the school.

Mr. Cooper collected branches and bits of scrap lumber to fuel the bonfire. Then he lit it. The flames roared up, warming our faces. Mr. Cooper placed more wood on the fire when it began to burn low. A shower of sparks rose into the twilight sky.

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "I never saw that before."

"Haven't you ever seen that?" our supervisor asked. "Fires do that, you know. Watch this," he said and poked the bonfire with a stick. Another cloud of red hot ashes soared upwards. All the boys who had sight gasped at the spectacle.

"I want to show you boys something real exciting," our supervisor announced. "These are horse chestnuts. When I throw them into the fire, they'll pop." A minute after he tossed a handful into the flames, we gasped in unison at the small explosions. Even those who were totally blind relished that, as well as the loud pops the wood made as it burned.

After a while, Mr. Cooper led us in a few songs. I did not care for that activity but I enjoyed the ghost stories he told afterwards. They suited the darkening gloom and the mood of the evening well. We had not had that much fun around Halloween in years. Mr. Cooper made the night memorable because of his bonfire and his genuine love for us.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant examples of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. This 196-page paperback sells for $25.00 through the PayPal-equipped Inscribe writers group website. It also contains 6 black and white photographs.

A birthday away from home.

Most children celebrate each birthday at home until they become adults. I was not so fortunate. My eighth birthday was spent five hundred miles away from all I knew and loved. Even so, I made the best of the situation. From my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, here's an excerpt that relates what happened on that day.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
I spent my eighth birthday away from home, another new experience. Somehow, I had the notion that presents would be waiting for me the moment I woke up.

"It's my birthday - where's my presents?" I excitedly asked Mrs. Sandyford.

"Why do you think you would get gifts so early in the morning?" she asked.

"I thought that maybe things might be like that here," I admitted sheepishly. When no presents arrived that day, I felt terribly let down.

As it was Sunday, my supervisor let me play records all afternoon. I had a splendid time. "I want to do this for all my birthdays," I enthused to Mrs. Sandyford. "You'll not be allowed to if it's a week day," she reasoned. "You'll be in school next year you know." That fact totally eluded me.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Though I had fun that day, I felt chronically homesick throughout my time at Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind. My condition was inadvertently made worse when my Uncle and aunt came to visit me there. Here is an excerpt that tells what happened.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Miss Boyce ushered me into the waiting room, normally off limits to children, where my uncle and aunt sat.

After asking how I was doing, Uncle Bill gave me a white race car, a gas station, and a silver dollar for my upcoming birthday. As we chatted, Uncle Bill assembled the gas station. Then he presented it to me. I marvelled at its gas pumps and rows of toy automotive products. A cosy feeling, similar to being home, swept through my heart as my uncle and aunt encouraged me to play with the toys. Jericho faded into the background as I enjoyed being in the company of my relatives.

All too soon, my uncle and aunt hugged me, wishing me well. Sadness engulfed my heart as they walked out the front door. Christmas was still two months away, almost an eternity for a child on the verge of turning eight years old.

"I'll keep your dollar safe in the desk and you can ask for it next June when you go home," Miss Boyce promised. As I had no reason to disbelieve her, I meekly handed it over. "A whole dollar is a lot of money for a schoolboy you know," Miss Boyce explained.

My beautiful gas station did not last long. Piece by piece, it became progressively vandalized until my supervisor threw it in the garbage. The race car did not last either. I felt heartbroken that everybody was allowed to play with my toys and wreck them with impunity while I was severely punished for taking apart the space station.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Today's disabled children need not be sent to distant institutions as I was forty-five years ago. They can be home-schooled or enroled in designated local public schools equipped to help them. Please visit the Inscribe writers site and click on the Deliverance from Jericho button to learn more about this book. Though it was written for a general audience, this memoir would be of interest to teachers and vision-loss professionals. They doubtless would benefit from contrasting my experiences with that of today's registered blind students.

The great water fight of 1964.

Blind and visually-impaired children are just as mischievous as their sighted peers. I amply demonstrated this in my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir. During my first term at the institution, I perpetually ran afoul of both supervisors and teachers. The following excerpt is just one of the many examples of my rebellion against the dictates imposed upon me.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
More trouble came my way when I foolishly followed the crowd. One night someone started a water fight. At first, I tried to ignore the rapidly growing chaos in the hallway. "We're having a water fight. You want to join us?" a boy invited. "No, I better not. I'll get in trouble." "Come on, you're missing out on the fun," he urged. The object of the game was to spit water at somebody and the other person was supposed to dodge it. I forgot who spat a mouthful at me but I retaliated. Soon the hall floor was drenched as many of us joined in the fun. "The night nurse is coming!" a boy warned. Everyone involved in the water fight scurried into bed and tried to act as if nothing had happened. Suddenly we heard a thud and a splash as the night nurse slipped in the hallway. "Who's responsible for this mess?" she demanded as she went to each bedroom. "Everybody out of bed!" The night nurse checked our pyjamas and wrote down the names of anybody who was wet. Then she told us to change into dry pyjamas and go to sleep.

All those involved were rounded up after school the next day for questioning by Miss Boyce. "I want to listen to Peter's record player," I whined as our supervisor dragged me out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the Quiet Room. Along with our supervisor, Superintendent Principal MacDonald, a stern grey-haired man, joined the inquisition that afternoon. The questioning appeared to continue interminably. I remember that the ringleader was spanked but I cannot recall his name.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Having been raised in a home where discipline was somewhat lax, it was inevitable that I would get into trouble repeatedly that autumn. During the writing of my memoir, I recorded as many of these incidents as I could remember to demonstrate the humanity of us blind students. To learn more about this 196-page paperback memoir, please see the Inscribe page.

The bowling ball convoy

One of Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind's proudest boasts was its two-lane bowling alley. The chief accessability 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. From my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, here's an example of our mischief and how we had revenge on our dormitory supervisor, Mr. Moiarty.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

I did not 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. 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. The weather clashed with my bleak mood as I shuffled into the bowling alley. While I was setting pins up, and before I signalled 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 did.

"What!?" I called. The ball hit my right shin with a resounding crack. I doubled over, howling in agony. Mr. Moiarty raced 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 did not 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 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 travelled 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.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
My memoir includes many other acts of innocent devilment and harmless defiance of authority in a matter-of-fact style. The final chapter contains a short history of Vancouver's infamous institution from it's beginning in 1922 to its closure in 1998 due to the sexual abuse of deaf pupils. This 196-page paperback sells for $25.00 U.S. from the Bruce Atchison PayPal-equipped page.