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.