MAYBE I SHOULD LEAVE part 10, chapter 81

By this time Garth was the only one who came to my room for visits. There was a time he was just listening and I was ranting and raving about who knows what. We were standing in my room by the dresser and I felt like those people living across Fourth Avenue had life better than anyone living in this tinderbox. I was flipping a pair of scissors around in my hand when I slammed them point down into the dresser top. They ended up sticking between Garths thumb and first finger. I was shocked at what I had done. I could have stabbed him, my only friend. He simply looked up at me and said, “Do you feel better?” I think so. Embarrassment knocks a lot of anger out of a person.

By the Saturday before finals, I decided I should return home and get my sorry butt out of the way of this awful mess. I had decided I had caused all of these problems. I packed my room up and put everything in my car. If anyone saw me or noticed my packing, they stayed out of the way. I decided I would go to church Sunday, have lunch with the Roses like I was then doing on Sundays, then talk to Della, break off our engagement and go home. That was going to be the hardest part. I had no idea how I was going to tell the woman I loved that we would not be getting married and that I was returning to Omaha. That was tearing me up more than anything else that was happening. I did not want to do it, but believed that staying engaged to her was selfish. If she was being hurt because of my actions she needed to be free from the damage I was causing. I was in the process of destroying myself, but I had no desire to take her down with me. She has already been hurt too much and she deserved none of it. I was the problem in this relationship and she was suffering because she was engaged to me. I could put a stop to that. I reasoned that it would be easier for her to heal if I wasn’t there as a constant reminder of the pain she was currently experiencing.

I had no intention of doing anything but leaving. I would not announce to the school I was leaving. The way they had treated me they did not deserve to get a note or comment from me. I would just disappear. Besides, I doubted anyone cared. I would write Miss A from home to thank her for her prayers. My roommate would figure it out first and at least begin to ask questions around campus. He may have already known my things were gone and may have already asked questions. I didn’t know. I did know word would travel like lightening around that place and they would find out Monday morning I was gone. There would be rejoicing in the halls.

As I entered church Sunday morning I passed by Mr. Rose’ office. He called me in. I went in shut the door and after asking me to sit down said, “I know I’m not to tell you this, but I fear you may do something stupid (not his exact word, but my understanding). The CBC board of Directors met yesterday (Saturday, an unusual Board day) and fired the dean. He will not return the following year. They will make no formal announcement, nor will they acknowledge any problems, but it is over and he will be gone.”

I was stunned. I could not believe it. He was fired? Really? I wondered if this meant the students had won. Was I vindicated? I doubted that. It was a bittersweet victory that I could share with no one at school. However, I loved church that Sunday morning. It may have been the best church service I had been in all year. I smiled all morning long.

I went to the Roses for lunch that day and could not stop smiling. Della knew something was up the minute she saw me. I could not wait to tell her the war had been won. Of course, we were still bleeding from the battles. We had a wonderful lunch with the Roses. I had a great afternoon with Della without telling her my car was packed or what I had planned. She had a piece of news for me. It was then that I learned the Dean of Women had visited Della at the Rose’s and encouraged her to break up with me. I could not believe what I was hearing. How could they do such a thing? She was told that I was sure to ruin her life. The truth is the reverse. Had she left me, I would have been ruined.

Della suffered more than I knew. Besides the deans visit to her at the Roses’ there was a rumor that she was there because she was pregnant. She kept that from me as well. We were so busy trying to protect one another from the rumors and actual events that we each were suffering more than we needed too. We learned a great deal about carrying one another’s burdens. We also learned how cruel the world even the religious world. I didn’t like learning the church can be just a cruel as the world. I knew that from the church of my youth, but now I had a crash course in the adult church. I thought it would be different. It was worse. Fall in line or be crushed.

I returned to school later that afternoon, unpacked, studied for finals and took that last week of exams. I did look for the man on Monday morning. When I saw him I went up, shook his hand and whispered in his ear — “goodbye.” Yeah, it was nasty, but I had to. As the comedian Flip Wilson used to say, “The devil made me do it.”

The school year ended and we were free to leave the anguish and pain of that year behind. I know I did. I picked up Della and we went to Red Deer. There was nothing normal about our relationship at school, but summer was going to be different. We could get to know one another free from manipulation and obsessive controls. We both looked forward to it. The question was — could we heal?

1965 yearbook photo. See, I was was young once.

BEGINNING OF TH END part 9, chapter 80

I charged over to the dean’s office in the boy’s dorm and pounded on the door with the back of my hand. When he opened the door, I pointed my finger in his face and backed him into his chair all the while telling him I wanted those hockey ride signup sheets and I wanted them now. He sat turned to his file and pulled them out. I didn’t ask questions I told him. “You had no right to take these sheets off the bulletin board. What you did in using these sheets to hand out deport slips was sneaky and inappropriate. You ended up giving deports to people who never even left the campus and you missed others who went. Why could you not even imagine these sheets to be the same as signing out in the book was beyond me? Because they signed up for a ride you knew they were leaving. They were not sneaking off. To also sign in the book was to sign out twice.

I don’t believe he ever spoke. He simply sat leaning back in his chair with a pasted on artificial but nervous smile while I told him what I thought. It would have been nice if I had had the common sense to be quiet about it, but the group at the door heard every word (not hard through those paper thin walls and doors with the huge gap under them). Just before I left I told him that I would see that he was fired if it was the last thing I did. I stormed out of his room, slammed the door and was greeted by a smiling and quietly cheering group of guys. It felt good at the moment. It didn’t take long to ask myself “what in the world had I done.” I wished I had simply crawled back in my little shell and hid there for the rest of the school year.

That evening I went over to tell Della and the Rose what I had done. They were all nervous. I didn’t blame them. I had put my foot in the bear trap and my tongue in a clamp. In today’s vernacular, “I was screwed.” The worse part of it was that I knew it, but didn’t know exactly what to do about it. Since it is hard to back out of a trap, I decided it would be easier to plunge deeper. I thought and planned, but that is exactly what I did. If you can’t swim and you want to drown, put your feet in cement.

The second semester ended with the dean trying to straighten out the deportments given to students who said they had not left campus. John has been expelled and the infamous four were expelled at the end of the term. Someone was cleaning house. The remaining inmates were at loose ends and confused. What had just happened? The administration never gave an explanation. Secrets! The rumors were abundant, the truth unknown. It seemed like it was all a secret. I guess it was. I was told specifically that it was none of my business.

Things did not really calm down, but it was somewhat quieter to the end of term. There was one exception, Students felt a responsibility to condemnation me for my “sin” of verbally attacking the dean. It took no time at all for everyone to know what I did. This translated into pressure on Della who had a nervous breakdown. She was worried for me and could not handle the stress. She left campus several weeks before and moved in with pastor Rose and family. He had been her pastor in Red Deer and was now the pastor at Woodward Avenue in Regina.

My plan of attack was hatched with a few council members. It took some time to get the courage to follow through so there was no action until third semester. At a future Student Council meeting I would ask for his resignation and if passed it would be in the council minutes and the administration would have to respond. The fear of doing this was that the dean sat as the faculty representative on the Student Council meeting. This action took guts. Talk about facing the enemy.

I guess I had figured out how politics worked since I had made the rounds talking to council members to make sure I would have enough votes to get my motion passed. I did not want to fail. I asked the question in council and it passed with him present and made the minutes. According to the rules the administration was required to respond before the next weekly council meeting. There was no respond.

Three weeks later I was called into the presidents office to be held accountable for my leadership, specifically the request that the dean be dismissed. I was told I was rebellious to authority and was not obeying scripture to submit and respect those over me. I suggested that respect is earned and titles were not the only basis. Respect is a two way street. I asked about the issues of grace, compassion and tolerance. I explained the tactics being used to issue deportments. I pointed out the regular interference with couples during their limited Tuck time. I reminded them of the spying going on from the music classroom and that his watch to the second was considered the correct time. They reminded me that none of his actions did away with the rules and he was acting in accordance with the law and their directives.

That was about the worst thing they could have said to me. It was just too much of a reminder of the arbitrary rules I grew up with in the church of my youth. I wanted some answers to “why.” I kept my mouth shut but was seething. The meeting ended when they requested that I step down as president of the student body. I refused saying I did nothing wrong, I followed the directives set out in Student Council guidelines, had only one deportment (which could be argued I did not deserve) and that I would only step down if the matter was put to a vote of the student body. They elected me and they alone had the authority to remove me. I left the office. It would never be put to the student body as this was a secret. Everything was a secret.

In the meantime, I was visiting Della at the Roses as often as possible. The Roses were hearing my side of the story and giving me some helpful advise but mostly listening and praying. I was often out past curfew. I wasn’t always talking with Della, but with the Roses, sometimes past curfew. Della did not want to hear all that was going on. It was too stressful.

Ron was the night watchman and understood what was happening. He would check my room and if I wasn’t there he waited up until I got back to let me in. He never put me on report. There were times I felt like he was my only friend. Something had begun and it could no longer be stopped. The snowball was rolling down hill and picking up the dirty snow.

Word got around that I had stood up to the dean and rather than coming around to encourage me I was ignored or criticized. The dissenting Student Council members and a few others felt compelled to throw Scripture at me and remind me of how wrong I was. I heard it verbally, but more often through notes in my box. Those supporting the administration were considered the spiritual ones. Then there were the rest of us.

At an early April Student Council meeting I once again asked for his resignation. It passed by a single vote majority and was included in the minutes. This time the Administrations response was immediate. I was called to the president’s office the next morning. There was no discussion this time they simply told me that I was immediately removed from office. I countered that they had no authority. They reminded me that they were in charge and not me and I was out. I left. The semester would end in three weeks. Student Council has little to do any longer. I do not know it they met without me. I never attended a meeting again.

I immediately stopped going to classes. I walked Fourth Ave. prayed and cried or cried and prayed. Had I messed up? Was I wrong? Did that man have the spiritual right to do what he did? Were these leaders actually following the directives of God? I did not return to class. I spend the entire last week of classes angry, hurt, praying, confused and frustrated. I spend much of the time crying. I was given a wide birth. No one seemed concerned that I was not attending class. Miss A was the only staff that ever contacted me. She sent an encouragement note reminding me that she was praying. It was tender without taking a specific position. I loved her for it. Only a very few students had any contact with me: Ron, Garth my roommate and a couple of others. I never saw any girls so don’t know what they thought. I do remember the love and support that came from the gang from Red Deer. Della’s friends stood by us both.

I simply did not know what to do. Was I really the cause of all of these problems? Had I really over stepped my bounds? Was it right that authority be so deceptive and interfering so that we were allowed to feel like prisoners in this Christian college? It felt like abuse of authority. Was it? I thought so.

THE GOOD TIMES OF ‘65 part 8, chapter 79

 Before I wrap up 1964-65 with the final explosion, it is important to know there were good times, fun times, those typical great days in college life. I admit my memory of many of these evens is rather impaired. My life was dominated by other events of school life.
So may remember the great skits that Franklin and I did the year before that a small group wanted to see them continue and suggested I hook up with Dave Peters. It sounded like a great idea. Dave was  the funniest guy on campus. I doubt he could talk without making someone laugh. We tried. We may have even did a couple before I realized I was way out of my league. Dave was extremely spontaneous. I could not make his quick wit. Our brains did not gel. I didn't need a word for word script, neither could I let it "just happen." I wish it had worked, but it didn't. 

The school yearbook was dedicated to those former students who had had responded to the call of God to foreign lands. The photo was of Julie Fehr who graduated the year before and took the college by storm with her dedication and passion to serve Christ. Written in part…

“We recognize with joy that these are under the Shadow of the Almighty as Julie has expressed…

“’A shadow, yes, but radiant with His life presence. He has been reminding me daily concerning abiding in that shadow of His Holy Presence. The Children of Israel journeyed under that holy cloud if the literal Shadow of the Almighty. In our walk with Him, is it not ever so easy to run ahead or lag behind in the ‘sunny-ness’ of our will? But oh, just to live and move and have out being in Him”

As always but learning to trust Him more, Julie Fehr’”

Julie was a gifted woman who lived a life too short.

An early internship model began this year. It was a voluntary program and guys (yes only guys) were assigned to work with one of the two pastors in town. Rev. E. J Bailey or Rev. William Rose. At that point in life there was no real career in Christian Education, so I was planning on becoming a pastor. I have no idea what I thought I would do about my public speaking weakness. I guess I just assumed God would take care of it when the time came. I certainly wished it had improved while I was at school. The need for me to speak was on the decline as greater problems involving me arose, I was needed less and less (read wanted less and less) on the school platform. It was OK with me. I knew there was many others much more qualified. It also reduced some of my tension.

As always there was youth conference, an event always shocking to first year students as high school students moved into our tiny dorms for the Youth Conference weekend. With no place to meet on Campus, the big meetings were held at Martin Collegiate a short six Regina winter blocks away. Here is what the yearbook had to say about Youth Conference.

“’There is nothing like Youth Conference’ every freshman was informed. He didn’t really understand until he had 325 young people on his hands for four days. It meant his life, hour by hour, given to the needs of young people who require God for every aspect of their lives. It meant revealing Bible studies in every available nook and cranny of the campus. It meant mountains of dishes and hectic moments when ‘our team was losing.”

 This is the only photo I have found of the college in the snow. Strange! There was always more snow during the school year than green lawn.

This year a new long range plan for the campus was presented. As nice as it may appear, this plan was never developed. I was interested that the plan showed a football field, baseball field and tennis courts, but no hockey arena. It was have been designed by an American. At least the new dorms would have been closer than the actual plan. The buildings up in the upper left hand corner was married students housing. Great idea, but it never happened on any plan.

A LIFE CHANGED continued, part 7, chapter 78

“The day after my roommate (and her accomplice) was expelled, I arrived at my first morning class and our professor made a special point that the topic of the class was changed to discuss “the obligation we have to obey our spiritual leaders” and that if we know something that “they” consider to be untoward, we are “under God” required to talk. Really, so a mere mortal of a man had the right to judge what was right and what was wrong in the eyes of God. In my second class of the morning, the professor had a similar message and I was beginning to wonder what was going on here. I was so naïve.

“By the time I arrived at chapel at 10:00 a.m. (or thereabouts) – the speaker had been changed out and the President was going to address the student body. I was feeling very uncomfortable, but didn’t really know why. I was confident that I had done the right thing. Bravely, I listened and what followed was a painful crucifixion for me. Too many years have passed for me to accurately remember his entire message, but I do remember him saying: “two students have been expelled today and there is one among us who knows something that they are not prepared to share – this is sin.” He then went on to say that if his son ever did anything that was considered (obviously in his books) a sin, then each of us (the entire student body) had an obligation to tell him. My mind went blank. I was feeling very dizzy. I was being centered out, in front of the entire student body, as someone who had “failed miserably before the eyes of God” and “through the eyes of these spiritual leaders”. To be misunderstood is a very difficult hurdle to overcome. Everyone has his or her own interpretation of the “understanding” and therefore it is a very difficult healing process for the one misunderstood.

“At this point, I froze in my seat. I knew the message was for me. I was hot all over. What was I going to do? I was stunned at what I heard. Being a fairly intuitive individual, I was stunned that I had heard basically the same message all morning and didn’t even connect the dots. These “men of God” were absolutely bombarding me. I felt like it was a lynching. I really don’t know what happened next, but I do remember people getting up and leaving the chapel while the President was talking. I remember one couple (women sat on the right; men on the left) – each of which stood up and walked to the center of the aisle and held hands as they made their exit. This behavior was clearly a defiant and sad statement on the broken human spirit. As I recall, nobody spoke to me after chapel. Or maybe I just rejected any approach. I just cannot remember.

“I went home right after chapel. My Father and Mother were living in Regina at the time. We talked, cried and hugged – supporting one another. They listened very thoughtfully.  Little did I realize what was about to change. My spirit is good today because of my parents. But back then my life was destroyed. My innocence gone. I didn’t realize to what extent until after I was expelled.

“The inappropriate use of “spiritual” power exerted by these so-called “spiritual leaders” on me personally and others collectively are written in a book by a power greater than myself. It was a very dark time.

“So…when I saw my Father come through the door, behind which the Student Life Committee sat, he touched my shoulder for the second time and said:  “We’re going home”. I had been expelled.   Mom had my bedroom set up so nicely with my favorite food – licorice – in a bowl on the dresser. Today, as a parent, I can more fully understand how they must have suffered to see my pain and feel theirs at the same time. They knew much more than I will ever know about what was really going on behind closed doors at CBC that year.

“I left CBC with a broken spirit and had it not been for the support I received from my Father and Mother I would not be where I am today. I have traveled a very rough and rocky road with lots of twists and turns, but I have a renewed spirit today that is continuing to seek higher spiritual ground.

“I learned that the gentle touch of someone that loves and cares for you is the greatest gift one can ever receive.”  

The End.

The chapel experience hit many people the same way. Each felt the message was directly specifically at them. The irritation and anger was palatable. You could feel it and it became the focus of late night discussion and debate about this new definition of sin. Personally, I felt like the Gestapo had invaded the campus.

A LIFE CHANGED part 6, chapter 77

What is in the gentle “touch of a hand” – an entire life.      

I appreciated receiving this letter from one hurt deeply by the experiences of the difficult school year. The letters put into clear perspective the problems being faced.     

                                                                    

“I felt this hand as I sat waiting to be called before Student Life Committee. I was trembling, confused and alone. I wondered what I had done that was so egregious. What were they going to do?  What were they going to say? What was I going to say in defense? Who was going to be there?  What shame would I bring to my parents? I was so young - just a teenager with wild enthusiasm for life – and unfettered hope for my future.

“As I turned around, I saw my father. His warmth and love was overwhelming. He said quietly and confidently: “you are not going in there, I am” and with that he left and the door closed slowly behind him. To this day, I cannot keep from welling up inside as I remember the love my father showed me that dreadful day. His touch is still felt every day of my life.  He was a man of principle and always sought to do the right thing. He had come to CBC that day to take care of business – business that was far bigger than the problem I was facing. My father had dedicated his life to young people and, not only did he change life for me that day, he changed the lives of hundreds of students who followed their dream at CBC for years after that closed door meeting.

“I do not know what went on behind that closed door, but I can share what happened outside that door.   It all began being a roommate to a challenging individual. I had been asked on a number of occasions to be an accomplice to accommodate certain behavior but refused.  Early one evening, while studying in the library, a page came for my roommate. I knew she was off campus. I froze. Nothing but trouble could follow this unanswered page. My roommate had shared a number of things with me that I had committed to confidence. My only concern at that point was that she would not face disaster. She did. She was expelled.

“When the Dean of Women called me to her office I was told it was my responsibility to tell her everything about my roommate and share anything I knew about her since she arrived on campus. I refused. The conversations we had as roommates were shared “in confidence” and under no circumstances would I ever break a confidence. Keeping a confidence was the foundation of my character and one of the principles most honored in our home. A confidence, if repeated, could ruin a fragile life – it just never occurred to me to do otherwise. I suggested to the Dean of Women that she speak to my roommate and get her to talk. It was her story and her obligation – not mine. This was not my issue. I had done nothing!

“As I was not party to any of my roommate’s decisions, especially this one to leave campus that evening without permission, I felt that I had handled the situation as well as I could. Later, when sharing the story with my parents – they agreed. That was good enough for me. BUT, it was not good enough for the Dean of Women, two highly respected Professors and the President.  It is astounding to me as I reflect, how they intimidated and tortured under the guise of “righteous indignation”. These “spiritual leaders”, allegedly called of God to train young people, be mentors, demonstrate a spirit of non-judgment, joined forces to find fault and declared that I was obligated “under God” to speak. I did not. I asked myself the question: Did we serve the same God? How could we be so far apart on this principle? I stood blameless, but was yet blamed.

“I will keep this short, but what followed changed my life forever and I firmly believe if it had not been for my father and mother . . .

To be continued….

E. A. PHILLIPS RESPONSE part 5, chapter 76

John has shared a letter his girlfriends father wrote on March 1m 1965 just a few days after his expulsion. John said, I suppose he could have said, "No man who is kicked out of Bible college will ever marry my daughter" or something like that. Instead, he wrote the following:

“Dear John,

    The Spirit maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God. And -- we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.

    How easily the Holy Spirit could have said 'some' things, or even 'most' things -- but He purposely said -- 'ALL' things. And this tremendous and well-known, but little believed truth is for 'the called' -- God's term.

    It means 'effectually' called in contrast to the weak and often ignored call that we make.

    This letter is not to encourage you in any self-righteousness, that would be wrong. But to encourage you in righteousness, that is right.

    Elias is termed a righteous man, as I read the context, yet I Kings 19:4 records his abject failure -- when he ran away and wanted to die. Righteousness then takes knowledge of our failure, because the Lord Jesus is our righteousness and He cannot fail.

    David failed God miserably, yet throughout his checkered career, he is known as the man after God's own heart.

    I have tried to imagine how you must feel -- and I can, for I too have known the awful loneliness of separation, -- so far away. the tendency and temptation is to bridge the gap as soon as possible -- but that would be unwise, except by letter, etc. However, it is possible to use this time in such a way that it can be greatly beneficial and a blessing. Obviously time is needed, somewhere in here, for both of you. Time for preparation, and time for proof.

    This proving time is really the heart of my letter. "For whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth."

    We must be proved, whether it is 'I will' or 'Thy will.'

    I could tell of some victories God in His grace has given me. What was General McArthur's famous words as he left Okinawa, "I'll be back." This was his victory -- it can be yours.

    Meanwhile make good use of the time. What lies ahead we do not know, none of us, except that there is a final reckoning for the saints, that is the important thing.

    Don't be discouraged! Remember the 'All things' actually under God's skill -- 'working together for good.'

    Perhaps it is my Calvinistic spirit, but I must look beyond all that has happened lately -- to the stark fact -- that God has decreed a separation just now.

    Problems, difficulties, heartaches ahead. Cheer up, we must therefore be on the right road for "we must through much tribulation enter the kingdom."

    Use the time wisely and well, and I wish you a blessed victory.

    Sincerely yours & His

    E. A. Phillipps”

This is a positive response.

THIRD SEMESTER part 4, chapter 75

John Barach Jr. writes of his expulsion. If I’m not mistaken, there were five expulsions in early 1965. This is number two, of three stories that will appear.

“Several couples had Special Permission (SP) to attend a weekend hockey tournament together. Prior to that event, there was an evangelistic campaign led by a guy named Argue. We were allowed to go to it as a couple, but I could wish I had never gone. It soured me on evangelistic campaigns ever since. My wife says she can no longer enjoy the song, "Just as I am" because they played all 37 verses of the song that night. The appeal he gave urged, "If you have a neighbour who is not saved, come forward." "If your paperboy is not saved, come forward." On and on it went. Then to top it off, he reported in the newspaper that hundreds of people came forward and were saved. What a liar.           

“The kitchen staff was aware they would all be late and held back some supper for their return. I was the first in line in the kitchen to fill up my girlfriend’s and my plate. The other guys were doing the same. So I came out of the kitchen and sat with my girlfriend ready to eat. That's when the assistant dean came in and saw me with my girl, which he figured was against the rules. As he called me out and told me to sit at a different table, I tried to explain that we had been at the hockey game and had an SP. Meanwhile all the other fellows stayed in the kitchen watching to see what would happen since their fate was going to be the same as mine. No reasoning with him was working, so I got up to go to another table and as I passed by him, I gave him a shove and sent him across another table. Well, that was the straw that led to my expulsion. I felt I was living within the rules, but he created his own interpretation of them as he went.

“I was expelled in 1964-65 for pushing the Assistant Dean. Later reports of my punching him were unfounded. But the clincher, which resulted in my expulsion, was not so much for pushing him, but for lack of repentance for the deed.

“One room in the dorm was designated as the prayer room; but instead of going to the Assistant Dean to ask for forgiveness, I went to the prayer room. I felt that I had offended God with my attitude and actions more than with my pushing him. Apparently I failed in the cross examination by the President, Dean, and Assistant Dean because I did not show the proper "signs of repentance" (i.e., tears).

“The following year I was allowed to return, but the attitude of Mr. Rose was 180 degrees the other direction. I am so thankful to him and his wife for the kindness they showed toward me.

“I found it strange in 1964-65 that I could talk to any girl in the school except the one I was dating. My roommate was dating as well and I talked with her a lot to convey the messages he wanted me to give her. My roommate did the same for me.

“After I left, I sent my girl a rose and her roommate took a picture of her with it which "comforted" me in my expulsion.

“Today, I don't feel bitter about the experience. It was a time of transition from the days of the Pink-and-Blue-sidewalk mentality of Bible colleges.

“Other schools had the same problems. A good friend of mine and I went to a Prairie Bible Institute conference in the summer of 1963. His fiancée attended there. Doug and I sat side-by-side in a nearly empty auditorium and his girl sat in the seat in front of us. She and Doug carried on a long conversation with some very endearing words. Though they were engaged, they couldn't talk directly to each other.

“I had a friend who, I think, was rushed into marriage in order to escape the strict dating rules. Their marriage did not last very long ... about a year, I think. That was another of the tragedies of those years. If he had been free to date her properly, they might have discovered sooner that they were incompatible.”

I am not defending the actions of these friends. I am questioning the process, which led to unfortunate results. No one received individual counsel. A person failed, was tried, judged and sentenced in a very impersonal way. I wanted a greater sensitivity from Christina leaders. But that was not the nature of the times. Rules reigned. It was the 60’s and absolute authority was crumbling. Those under authority wanted to know the why of rules. Government and educational authorities had abused their power and were being challenged across North America. I doubt we were completely aware of the full cultural situation. I wasn’t. I was aware of the Biblical passages being taught about love, grace, and compassion. Where was the example?

We were imperfect youth asking questions and generally trying to do the right thing. It felt like we were being told to do as I say, not as I do. I for one had questioned that thinking since I was thirteen. Tell me what God says about living the Christ life in this imperfect world. How is that done?  So my question was, what does God want of struggling Bible college students? Was it really absolute blind obedience? Even God did not ask that. The world was changing. How would we face this new world? 

ROOM ARREST part 3, chapter 74

ED. NOTE: The following is the story of Dave Peters who was under room arrest. The story has been edited for length. This story preceded the mass deportment.

“I had been very protected growing up, and was generally accepting of the Christian principles that had been instilled in me.  I loved our youth group where I could have a sense of belonging that I didn’t have at my school.  However, I never really had much joy in my relationship with God, as I felt He must be terribly disappointed with me for my lack of victory over sin, and my inconsistency in my devotional life.

“Going to Bible College was a chance to experience things I hadn’t experienced in my home environment, such as going to football games, singing in a large choir, and having a multitude of friends.  

  “The social rules were not a problem to me. It was fun just to flirt with all the girls and entertain them with my humor. Curfew was fine. I have always liked to go to bed early and get up early. I had been taught to respect and obey anyone in authority so don’t remember being angry or bitter because of rules. I did enjoy bending some rules and not getting caught. I certainly didn’t consider myself a rebel, or someone with a bad attitude. I just wanted to have a good time and enjoy my newfound independence.

“The fall of 1964 I returned for my second year thinking I would continue my studies to graduation. The atmosphere was not good as the Dean and Assistant Dean seemed overly zealous in their focus on the rulebook. There were a number of students who were disturbed by this antagonistic relationship between students and Deans.  

“With the Christmas banquet coming up I succumbed to social pressure and decided to ask someone to go with me. It was the first time I had ever asked a girl for a date. The rules were that this was an on-campus event, and that dates were allowed, but the date was limited to the campus.  Since I had never gone on a formal date I had no idea how it would go, or what to expect, but it seemed to go all right.  After the dinner and the program, four of us started talking and decided we would sneak out and go bowling. I had never done anything like this before, but it didn’t seem like a really big deal at the time, and if my conscience was saying no, I don’t remember it speaking very loudly.  

“Both of us guys had dates that we had hardly spoken to previously. We borrowed my roommate’s car, and off we went, the boys in the front and the girls in the back.  We bowled for an hour or so and then realized that the dorm would be locked by now, and we would have to sign in with the night watchman.  This would be tantamount to signing a confession of our guilt.  We talked about it for a while and decided to keep bowling, since it was Friday night and the bowling alley was open all night.  Then, once the doors were unlocked in the morning, we would sneak back in. 

“This is what we did, although towards morning we got tired of bowling and drove around for awhile. We parked the car for an hour or so (still boys in the front and girls in the back) and then decided we should head for the dorm.  The car wouldn’t start. By now the girls were mad, since the car was cold, and getting colder by the minute. The guys only had on suits – no winter coats – but we braved the cold and walked to a service station to get help.  We got back to the dorm cold and tired.  As dates go, this hadn’t gone very well. When I got back to my room I realized that the whole dorm knew we had been out all night.  Some of the guys had had a prayer meeting for us. One of the fellows who had a crush on the girl I had dated had spent the night in my room to see what time I would get in. I quickly realized that it was only a matter of time until the authorities found out about our all-night date. As the four of us talked the next day, we came to the conclusion that confessing our escapade to the authorities might cause them to be lenient with us, but at the time I was still looking for a way out of the mess.  

“A few days later we were given letters from the Student Life Committee.  We were each to be on “room campus” for a month starting right after the Christmas break.  What this meant is that we were only allowed to be out of our rooms for bathroom breaks, meals, church, classes, library (for class assignments), and we were not to have anyone in our room other than our roommates.  There was the feeling among the faculty and administration that they could not ignore the fact that two couples had stayed out all night, and that they needed to come down heavily on us.

“I went home and told my parents what had happened. They handled it very well and didn’t express any disappointment in me. I felt their support. I came back to school and began serving my time.

“I do not remember ever deliberately trying to break these new rules, but I obviously wasn’t terribly interested in sticking to the letter of the law either.  At the end of the four weeks, the girls were free to resume a normal life while the guys were given a letter stating that we had been observed breaking a number of the rules that had been laid out. We were left on “room campus” for another two weeks and on February 18^th 1965; we were given letters saying that we would not be allowed to return for the final trimester of that school year. We were expelled.

I was upset at how things were handled. I questioned the aloof attitude that suggested that they are the authorities and therefore were right and students were wrong. I was bothered at the disrespect shown students. There had been no personal contact. No face to face sense of compassion or care. They faced the judge and jury and then they were locked up and the key thrown away. There was no plan for redemption, only punishment. Spies were left to report infractions.

Rules had always been there, the same rules. But they had been handled with a sense of compassion. Now they had the weight of Deuteronomy. It seemed Christ had not yet come and grace did not abound. 
Did they do wrong? Yes. Did they deserve the punishment the received? Maybe. Were these students thumbing their noses at the rules? Doubtful. Was there a spirit of correction? No, just one of punishment. That was the problem from my perspective. I expected more.

 

THE DAM BREAKS part 2, chapter 73

The school year of 1964-65 was a personally defining leadership time. I changed dramatically in unexpected ways. While I had been freshman class president, and worked on various creative and planning committees, I did what I did because it was fun. I wasn’t always in charge. Even when I had that title I was more of a facilitator, than a leader. I love the idea of teamwork.

Many have regrets regarding that school year. I am one of them. I became angry, violate and explosive and it was highly directed. I was able to temper it at times but it seemed to simmer under my skin. It would not go away.

It was early in January of the second semester when the dam broke for me. It cracked and spewed muck in December. Several students were placed in room arrest (my term, not theirs – if ankle bracelets had been invented I’m sure they would had wore them). I saw the issue as a problem, felt it and tried to stick my finger in the hole to plug it but it was too little too late and I felt like I was the wrong person in the wrong place. I had no authority and no power.

The school had a scheduled hockey game with Carenport Bible College near Moosejaw, Saskatchewan, and the student council had arranged rides to the game at their campus. The normal pattern for this was to find drivers willing to fill their car, post their names and the number they could take and then let people sign up for a ride. Student Council would then pay the drivers gas money. This plan worked as designed.

We all had a great time. It was nice to get off campus as a group and just laugh and cheer. No doubt it was an important game. Carenport was our chief rival. Maybe we won. I don’t know. 

When we returned from the game, a large number of students had deportment slips in their mailboxes. I was one of the later cars to return and was under attack before I walked in the door. “Why did I get a deportment slip?” How was I to know? I couldn’t see through walls, nor mentally transport from city to city. “What did the note say?” Leaving campus without signing out. Each dorm had a book at one exit in which students were required to write their departure day, time and destination, then the time they returned. Several students followed that rule diligently apparently most did not.

I checked my box and as suspected also had one. It was my first deportment of the year and a mistake I did not want to make then or ever, but I had. I knew we were under law. I knew I had gone to the game without signing the exit book. Claiming it was an accident or that signing the transportation sheets was tantamount to signing out did not matter under the law. I messed up and accepted that as my fault. But some of the people who got notices had not left campus and didn’t know why. Neither did I, but for some reason some believed I should have the answer. I had no idea on what basis notices were given. I listened to those complains all weekend. It felt like my only escape from the talk was church. It is the first time in my life I wished church lasted all day.

. On Monday morning I walked over to pick up the signup sheets for the trip to the Carenport hockey game we had posted on a bulletin board in the Administration building. They were not there, No problem, Ron was the Student Council treasurer. It was his job and I assumed he had the sheets. I asked him about them when I saw him later that day. “No, I thought you picked them up.” “No!” We stood together trying to figure out where the sheets went. The same light bulb idea flashed over our heads at the same time. Most likely the dean took the signup sheets and used them to compare to dorm sign out books so demerit slips could be written. As students often did, some who asked for rides did not go. Others went who were not on the lists. The whole deportment list was arbitrarily based and caught only a few of the actual offenders all of whose names appeared on the ride lists already. It also caught a few non-offenders.

I was furious at the thought that someone in administrative authority has used the ride signup sheets to hand out deportments. In my somewhat less legalistic eyes those sheets might have been viewed as signing out. But instead they became proof that people left without signing out. Right or wrong, I could not believe they could have stooped so low. It felt more like “now I got you,” a sneaky little trick.

Having assumed the scenario we suspected was correct. I was so angry I wanted to punch a hole in the wall. I decided he had no right to take those signup sheets when they rightfully belonged to the Student Council. If he did have the right, why did he not consult with Ron or myself? We put them up, not him. A note would have worked.

There is no question my attitude was wrong. I had had it up to here (hand way above head) with what several students considered to be downright dirty tactics.  I had listened to their concerns and frustrations since September and done nothing but get worn out by their words. The room arrest wore heavily on the incarcerated and several other students. Their behavior was being watched closely and secret Gestapo assistants (other students) were reporting every possible infraction to the authorities. Apparently someone believed this was the responsible Christian thing to do. Some felt those student’s actions were unforgiveable, and even a lynching might not be too sever (joking).

Something had to be done. I did not see anyone stepping up to the plate. All anyone did was complain behind the backs of offenders and authorities or say we were under authority. I wanted to know what the right response was if authority was wrong. A large number seemed to believe authority could not be wrong. I never once saw myself as the champion of anyone’s cause. I had never stood up to any perceived wrong in my life. I kept my mouth shut and turned my back and slinked away with my tail between my legs. Someone had to do something and the powers that be were silent.

Emboldened by anger, I walked over the Deans office and pounded on the door with the back of my hand. I wanted answers.

THE FALL OF ‘64 part 1, chapter 72

This is the elephant in the room story. When I began this blog I had every intention of simply skipping this phase of my life. Certainly there were good times, but the year was dominated by conflict. I have no desire to blame or hurt anyone. This is my story and my interpretation of that story. I fully accept my responsibility. The conflict was not one sided. There are other points of view. I welcome them in the comments section.

It was fall of 1964 and I returned to Bible College engaged to Della. We could not have been more excited about what was ahead. I had been elected student body president and had no idea what I had gotten myself into. We arrived early so I could meet with the new student council and plan for the coming year and the welcome of freshmen. The first pressure was going to be the speeches I would have to make. I was terrible. I was a “C” student in Preaching Class. I knew speeches would be difficult but had no idea there would be so many. I knew I would just muddle through this part. What I saw was the opportunity to plan exciting events and bring about change. I wasn’t looking to change the world, just some rules. I had a personal sense that I was where God wanted me, but that did nothing to reduce the impeding sense of frustration and doom.
I finally decided to take the advice often given to me the previous year. I decided following through was important since I was now engaged to a Canadian and may ultimately settle there.

Canada was seriously opposed to the Vietnam War. It was not a gentle opposition. They had made it exceptionally easy for Americans living in Canada to get a green card so one could remain and work. I went to the post office and filled out the three by five resident application card. My permanent resident card arrived a few weeks later. I did not go to Canada to escape the draft or the war, but had no objection to the safety zone in which I found myself. The USA draft board had my address, but there was no doubt that, if necessary, I was prepared to remain in Canada. I was going to be married and I had fallen in love with Canada. I had many friends in Canada. I would have been completely comfortable. The best part was that I could get a job. I wasn’t sure what I could do, but knew I needed some source of income. Finally I worked at the post office sorting mail for the Christmas rush. I worked the eight-hour night shift from 11:00 pm to 7:00 am. I got back each morning just in time for breakfast with Della, muddle my way through classes and sleep in the afternoon. I know I was a walking zombie. Point me in the right direction. All I needed what were to go next. Thankfully it was a short run. I worked three or three and a half weeks. It was good pay and I reasoned I would sleep at the Christmas break. You never catch up, but I did sleep.

I had registered for a full course load and was enrolled in “Romans” with our new dean of students. I anticipated learning a great deal. By this point I fully believed God had called me to ministry. I wanted to know the Bible better,

Within the first two weeks, guys were coming to my room asking me to explain why certain rules were being interpreted as they were. I had no idea and didn’t see it as my job to explain. I encouraged them to speak to the new dean or his assistant. Questions turned into complain against leadership. My response was, “Did you sign the agreement to obey the rules?” “Yes!” “Did you break a rule?” Yes.” “Then what is your concern? You broke a rule and have received a deportment slip, correct? Then I do not see a problem.”

I had the sense early on that issues might get bigger. Things seemed to be growing fast. It was like the beginning of a tornado. It was somewhat quiet but the air was foreboding. I quietly dropped the Romans class on the last drop date. I was hoping and praying that I was wrong and things would calm down. Through out the first semester, the number of guys knocking on my door, catching me after classes or in the dining room began to grow. Normal complains turned into anger and verbal attacks. I held the line at obedience. Do it or pay the consequences. Grace did not appear to exist. We were under the law and needed to obey. There were no extenuating circumstances.

Because of Della’s relationship to me she was hearing from some of the girls. We talked about the situation often and decided that if this was going to become a big conflict we had better not be caught in the middle. We would live by the letter of the law. If it meant cutting our time short to make sure we would meet curfew, that is what we would do, and we did. As a couple we never broke the law. Couples were a primary focus of this law. If a showdown was coming, I did not want to be caught in the middle because I could not live by the law. It was a choice we made.
Della had some personal support because of the large number of Red Deer girls in the dorm. However that did not block out the pressure she felt. She was torn between to pain of her friends and fear of what might happen. She knew I was hearing even more than she and that only made anxiety greater. I know other members of the student body were hearing things as well. I may have been  more wiling to listen so was hearing a lot.

One consistent complaint had to do with a dorm sign out book. No one was permitted to leave campus without signing the book. Few ever signed out. The book was located at the door nearest Fourth Avenue. Some left that way, but more left at the other end of the dorm. The book did not appear to be in use the previous year. I don;t remember hearing of anyone getting a deportment for not signing the book. I know I didn't. That law was now in full force. I met with leadership and discussed having books at both doors. That never happened.

By the end of that first semester I was having difficulty getting my own homework done because of the being found wherever I was hiding or people gathering in my room. They were no longer coming one at a time. It seemed to always be groups. Stories were being regurgitated so repeatedly I could tell them their own story before they even got started. At times, I wish I had. I could have told it faster. We were only on the cusp of conflict and already my roommate was being driven out of his room. I asked him to leave at times for his own protection. He heard more than he needed and didn’t need to hear more. He appeared to be doing well with college life and basically untouched by the problem apart from being my roommate. I did not want to see him destroyed. He was a good guy and apparently untouched by the problems of the law. On the other hand, maybe he was as badly affected as others, but never brought it up.

Early in December the first crisis occurred. The second semester had just begun. Four students had been out all night and had been put on room arrest. Many students were in an uproar over the punishment. The guys seemed to be taking it pretty well, but the girls were furious. They blamed the guys for what had happened. Some thought the punishment just, others unjust and some thought it too lenient. If act, it was just one more layer of legalism. Some restrictions may have been necessary to keep the community in order, but this punishment was delivered without grace.

WESTWARD HO chapter 71

I was only home long enough to pick up the ring, work a couple more days, make a round of goodbye visits to special friends and a group gathering, and to have a final family dinner. Mom took my departure very hard. I expected it. She was so worried that I would miss home. I love my family, but departure was easy. I was glad to leave. I can’t say that I ever missed home. Home was often tense. One sister let me know how disappointed she was that I was planning to be in the ministry. She said, “You could have been someone.”  And all that time, I though I was somebody. Go figure. My younger brother had been married while I was in my first semester at school. I met his wife once. We never had a conversation. Mom was very quiet anticipating my departure. She did not like any of her kids moving away. No doubt I got less static on my departure than the others as dad was very supportive. He was thrilled that a child of his was planning on the ministry.

I soon left on the most nervous and exciting trip of my life. I was off to see the woman I prayed would soon be my fiancé. I tried to drive straight through, but holed up over night in Great Falls, Montana and took off early the next morning.

When in Red Deer I stayed at the Gifford’s. They only lived two blocks from Della. I loved the proximity. Mrs. Gifford was very good friends with Della’s mom and Della was best friends with Jean (Anna),

I was always welcomed to the Gifford’s like a family member. My first partial year only two students attended from Red Deer, Alberta. Al roomed with Floyd and I roomed with him on choir tour. Della was the other one and I had an eye on her, but didn’t pursue it. I wanted to then, but was adhering to the guy code of not approaching another guy’s girl. Well, she really wasn’t his girl, but he hadn’t accepted that yet.

The following year was a Red Deer invasion in Regina — nine more Red Deer students arrived. I’m not sure who followed whom? Rev. and Mrs. Rose left the pastorate at Red Deer to minister at Woodward Alliance Church in Regina. All these students had been part of their youth group. Among them was Ron Gifford. Not only were Della and her mother good friends with Ron’s family. I now had a connection. Every time I visited Red Deer as a single guy, I stayed with them. Here friend Jean I met at Christmas, as she was a nursing student in Edmonton. Her other friend from the second grade came along to CBC that fall.

I had no idea what Della felt, but I was nervous. I know we were both glad to see each other. That evening we went for a walk in Coronation Park (downtown Red Deer). We walked and talked and I was looking for the perfect place to drop to my knee and pop open the ring box. I wanted to stop somewhere she would be able to see the ring. She knew the park and was keeping us in the shadows and doing all she could to stay away from the park lights. I finally won, moved near a light, proposed, she accepted and I was walking on air and more than willing to go into the dark shadows, but then all she wanted to do was go home. There were people to tell.

Mom was excited and then Della went to the phone. Are all engagements like this? I totally disappeared into the background while she called every girlfriend she had (which was at least the whole church) and she had plenty. I might as well have gone back to the Gifford’s and gone to bed. By the time I did get to there place, they already knew of the engagement. There was no one left to tell, at least not in Red Deer. I told my Omaha friends of my plans before leaving.

Several of her friends came by the next day and I was privileged to sit on the side and listen and watch. I wasn’t completely ignored. I was congratulated before the girls peeled off into another corner. Actually, I loved listening to the talk.

A few days later, we headed to Regina. It would be her final year and my junior year. We were optimistic and enthusiastic. Our lives were out before us and it looked great. We could hardly wait.

GO EAST YOUNG MAN chapter 70

Franklin had asked me to be his best man. The wedding was to be in Hamilton Ontario. I had two reasons to want to go. First, I wanted to celebrate the great relationship we had the previous year wondering if this might be the end of it. Franklin and Donna had two years of home service ahead of them that would be spent at Avenue Road Alliance in Toronto. Then they were going to India as missionaries. I had serious doubts I would ever see them again. Second, I had never been east of Minneapolis and wanted to see eastern Canada and even Detroit. It made sense to me.

I had already made plans with Della to drive west to Red Deer, Alberta to pick her up and drive us both back to Regina. She had urged me not to go because of the expense. I barely had money for school. I was already planning to go 1500 miles northwest to Red Deer, but I wanted to make a return and go north to Hamilton, Ontario first, a trip of nearly 1900 miles. I guess it didn’t make much sense. But I was pretty sure I could afford the trip (cheap gas, young guy) and if not I would just steal Franklins honeymoon money. That should cover it. I’m just joking. She forgot to mention if would be another 560 miles from Red Deer to Regina. I was a driving machine. Now I barely want to drive to the grocery store.

I don’t remember how it happened, but I made a connection with a passenger heading that way. That saved some money, in fact, I thing she paid for all the gas going there.

I arrived in Hamilton on an afternoon and got reconnected with my friends. That afternoon we went to Franklin’s home in Grassie, Ontario. Franklin remembers his family being very shy, and hardly talking. He was really mad at them for not being more outgoing to his friend who had come all that way. It really didn’t bother me. I was having the same problem connecting with Della’s family. I’m not sure any of us really knew how to break the wall down, but that didn’t change the joy of the situation.

Later that day we went to their ”cottage” as they called it. It was a house his dad had built for a hired man.  It was vacant, and we slept together in the back bedroom.  Donna and he later lived in that house when going to India was delayed. They stayed in that summer cottage in the Ontario winter. Yuck.

The bed had a miserable mattress and we fought banging into one another much of the night, but it didn’t matter much as we were awake talking most of the time. We talked about married life (of which we were ignorant). He was to marry the next day and my marriage was not going to be for… who knew how far into the future. I hadn’t even proposed yet.. Yes, sex was part of the talk.

Franklin said, “One evening Donna and I went shopping for groceries for our honeymoon. You walked through the store with us feeling embarrassed. You bought us a can opener and then beat it out of the supermarket and waited for us outside. We had a good laugh.” Franklinly, I don’t believe a word of it.

On the wedding day, we washed his dad's car and then put Kleenex carnations and streamers on the car.  His brother was a schoolteacher who had a class competition for to make the nicest Kleenex carnation, then he kept them all for the wedding.  We should have decorated the car in Hamilton, as much of the decoration came off in transit from Grassie.  We got to the church, and touched up the decoration job as best we could.

Before leaving for the church Franklin took a shower and then came over to the cottage to get dressed. He was surprised that I was already in my tux. “Why have you gotten dressed so early.” I said, "So that I now help get you ready." He needed me. He struggled with the cummerbund and the studs, especially. He even had the suspenders twisted. While he was grateful, it made it even harder to say goodbye. It seemed like a forever goodbye. We both had the sense this would be the end of the relationship. 

It was a beautiful sunny day and the wedding was great. It was my first experience at a Canadian wedding with a fruitcake wedding cake (how could they?), a sit down meal and multiple toasts. It began the preparation for my own wedding — whenever that was going to be.

Donna and Franklin. They graduated from college and ten graduated from the single life. Aren't they cute? It's the closest thing I could come to a wedding photo.

MY LAST SUMMER AT HOME chapter 69

Leaving Della was difficult but seemed to be the right thing to do. I had no idea that this would be my last summer in Omaha. I’m lousy at predicting the future.

Bruce traveled east with me. We went through Winnipeg to visit Roy and then on through Minneapolis. We pulled in rather late thinking it will be not problem finding a place to stay. Wring. It was terrible. We could not find a single motel/hotel with a vacancy. There was some huge convention in town and they had everything tied up. We kept moving on south until finding a place in a small town south of Metropolis.

I lived in Omaha and Bruce lived in Oregon, but he was going to visit his Grandparents in Van Meter IA near Des Moines before flying home to Oregon. When I moved to Oregon in 1980 I through of Bruce from time to time and even tried to find him. I never had any success. He bounced back into my mind because of the blog and I found him through facebook. For the life of me I could not figure out why we got as far as Minneapolis. It was too far each for Omaha and way to far east for Oregon. I’m glad I found him. I love solving mysteries. It appears he may have lived in Portland, OR all this time. So close yet so far.

I had some part time work back at Kinney Shoes. I covered for vacations and heavy days. They could call me at the last minute and I would work if I were in town. I knew I wasn’t going to be there for the back to school rush as I had been elected Student Body President and had to be back early to plan for the fall activities and beginning of the new school year.

Once again I spent a few weeks at Rivercrest Bible Camp. I really loved Al’s parents and could hardly turn them down. This year I felt like I knew what I was doing and I wasn’t hobbling around with my side about to split open. Two weeks were spent with junior boys and one with high school boys. I met a sophomore guy who spent the first two weeks working in the kitchen and third week as a camper. He was a nice enough kid. Very quiet and seemed depressed. We got to know each other a bit in the first two weeks and he asked for my cabin in week three,

Kips story nearly broke my heart. The hardest part was that I did not know how to respond, or what to do, if anything. His parents were divorced and just a few weeks before he came to camp his mother died in a car accident. Dad had already married a younger trophy wife and had no more interest in the boy. I think he was 14 or 15. He had arranged his summer to be away at camps until school started in September. After Rivercrest he was scheduled to wash dishes at another camp that then be a camper again. It was with Kip that I had the first real pull on my heartstrings to rescue someone in distress. I had no idea how to help nor what to do, so we talked and prayed and separated at the end of camp. I do wonder whatever happened to Kip?

Because my own movement was a lot of running around, I was at home, at camp, at home, at work, with friends. It seemed like I couldn’t stay still. I spend all the time I could with friends when I was around. I cherished every moment.

While the money was not rolling in, school was still cheap. I think I got a small amount from Al’s parents and a couple of their friends. I made my car payments the four months I was home. I offered to sell the car again, but dad insisted I keep it. But I did have one thing worth selling. A few years back I had upgraded to a better quality accordion. Would you believe I played the accordion for five or sic years and never did get very good. I made enough on the sale of that thing that I no longer wanted so I could pay for a semester and a half. The gift money and what I had earned at the shoe store took care of the rest. I calculated what I would need to go to Ontario for Franklin and Donnas wedding, then drive to Red Deer, Alberta to collect Della and drive back to Regina. After all that, I had enough to barely buy the cheapest engagement ring one could get at Zale’s. So that’s what I did. It was such a pathetic thing I always told Della I found it in Cracker Jack’s; I swear it looked like it. You had to squint to see if it really had a diamond.

 Not the actual diamond, but what it looked like in my mind.

This is 18 carets, mine was more like .00001 carets.

God gave me enough to do it all, but it would the Christmas rush job at the Canadian Post Office that provided spending money. Talk about exhaustion. I will, but that will be later.

THE TUCK GIRL AND I chapter 68

Della and I got closer and closer. By the end of the year I was pretty sure we both knew it was love. I know I did. We did have a conflict. She wanted to be a missionary and doubted that I did. I had no real idea as to what my call may have been — just the ministry I guess. All I knew was that I wanted to be in ministry. I knew that nothing resonated with my heart more than what Miss A discussed in her classes. I was convinced that we needed churches with a total emphasis on all aspects of life and that meant children and youth as well as adults. Real men didn’t go into Christian Education, and to the best of my knowledge there were only two in the Canadian Alliance at the time and for both, it was somewhat of a sideline. I always interpreted the need to be an understanding and skilled pastor. Also, if you really wanted to be Godly, be a missionary. Second, you could always settle and be a pastor. Third, wait – there was no third, but if there had been it would have been music. At least some saw a place for music in the church.

I confess that part of my attraction to Della was that she didn’t seem to really need me. I often felt like she could take me or leave me. There was no doubt we liked one another and she was probably just waiting for me to open my heart to missions. I was trying, but nothing was there. I guess God knew I would have a harder time with a foreign language than I did with public speaking. I didn’t even see myself as a mediocre speaker and as yet I had no aspirations to cross the ocean or fill the pulpit of some large church anywhere. I kind of thought I would end up closing the church if I even tried. This was an on going internal tug-o-war, albeit a gentle one. What challenged me is that she was not falling head over heals for me. I enjoyed the chase.

Della needed a car one night to get her and a few other girls to their Christian Service assignment. They were going to lead a Pioneer Girls program. It was the first time she asked to use my car. No problem. I didn’t really consider it my car any longer. It was God’s. My father was paying for it and I was using it. How could it be mine? When she returned from her service she sent word to the dorm to meet her in the Ad building. As soon as I saw her I could see something was wrong.  There was stress all over her face. As I approached she was looking at the floor. The first thing that crossed my mind was that something horrible had happened and she was about to break up with me. When I got near I could see tears rolling down her cheeks. I knew - I was about to be dumped.

 She had been in an automobile accident. My first response, after relief, was, “Are you OK? What about the other girls.” “No, everyone is fine. No one was hurt.” I was glad about that. “I backed your car into a light pole. And there is a dent in the back bumped.” I laughed and took her in my arms. “Is that all? Its only transportation and it sounds like it still runs. It’s no big deal.” “But it’s your first dent.” “So…” I didn’t care. She was surprised I didn’t want to go and check it out. I told her I would see it next time I drove the car. I think she took a step or two closer to me after that. I didn’t say it for that result, but I wasn’t disappointed.

I had now decided getting up for breakfast was a good thing. Breakfast was one of those times couples could be together. Did you know that about the only people at breakfast were couples? I didn’t until I went. The room was normally spread thinly with pairs of two. We sat with Franklin and Donna and all got to know each other pretty well. The four of us represented three different classes. Franklin and Donna were seniors, Della was a junior and I was a freshman. I suppose this should have caused me to lean more toward missions as all three of them wanted to be missionaries. It didn’t — then there was the language thing.

When in High school we were required to take two years of a foreign language. It was the 50’s and we were early into the cold war. The schools were pushing the Russian language. Everyone said it was very difficult. I really didn’t care much for difficult. I asked around to see which would be the easiest. Spanish, everyone said. I learned about a dozen words, how to say I didn’t speak Spanish and to count to 20. I was so bad; the instructor approached me at the end of the year and said she would pass me if I would promise not to take the course next year. I asked if she would write the note needed to get out of languages. Her note indicated that I had no aptitude for foreign languages. I guess I shouldn’t have been so pleased, but I was and I was released. Now maybe I could actually learn to speak English instead of Kansas farmers English (my families native tongue). Does that explain anything? Strangely, I find myself spitting out some of my families funky expressions. Where does that come from? I avoided those for years.

I first visited Della at her home on the Christmas break. I loved her mother immediately, a sweet Christian lady. She and Della were extremely close. I liked that. We certainly were dating in the cultural era of separation of men and women. When family arrived, the women all gathered in the kitchen, and most of the men stayed outside to smoke. Della’s father sat in the dining room in his recliner watching TV. I was initially led to the living room where I could also see the TV, but a wall divided her father and I. There I sat for most of that visit. If I entered the kitchen to talk, it got quiet. Not may men came around and I never figured out how to talk to her dad.  It was a strange introduction. Leroy, her brother, was friendly when he came around, but I didn’t see him much.

A huge clan gathered for Christmas dinner and to exchange gifts. They all endeared themselves to me at that time. This was a poor family and the gifts were small and meager. I was impressed with the extreme generosity of gratitude. Everyone was so thankful even for the smallest of gifts. I was impressed. My family was never that thankful. I had the sense that this would be a hard family to get to know, but I was impressed and liked them all the same. I just didn’t know if I could scale or break the walls that existed. In may ways I was not just the outsider, I was the Christian boy interested in one of their own.

As the weather improved in the spring Della and I loved walking in Wascana Park, down around the lake and Parliament buildings. The evening was beautiful and the area peaceful. Now Della had worked in a Five and Dime store in Red Deer, Alberta. As part of her job she cared for all the animals, mostly things like turtles, fish, budgies, etc. We were walking and taking and planning our futures when a bird flew right at my head. I immediately jumped from one side of Della to the other. She burst into laughter at my apparent fear of birds and never ever let me live that down - ever. It was pretty funny.

The year was coming to an end. She was going to Red Deer and I to Omaha. We were saying goodbye until fall. It would not be letters.

By the way, she was wearing that same collar flower (top photo) when I first saw her.  It is the photo that appeared in the 1964 yearbook.