Today I start my chemo treatment. It might be painful but I've determined to take it. It just might give me a little more time to finish writing my autobiography.
Cancer Care is just down the street ten minutes away and the staff there are efficient, understanding and positive. I believe death is a living ministry.
Before I go the Victoria Hospital - I will tell another story. Not sure about this one - mixed feelings.
*****
I attended the most famous school in Saskatchewan, Huffnungsfeld Elementary School, made famous because its first teacher was William Diefenbaker, the father of the Right Honorable John G. Diefenbaker, former Prime Minister of Canada.
I experienced it as a big spacious one - roomed school house with one wall of windows and another of blackboards, located 14 miles north of Borden – approximately two miles from our home.
There was no doubt that I enjoyed going to school, riding horseback on a good day, and in bunk on cold windy days, furnished with a bale of straw several inches thick spread out on the floor.
I also always enjoyed sports especially hockey. Hockey was actually a big thing at Hoffnungsfeld school during the winter. The community had built a large ice rink with boards all around. Not sure if it was "official size" but to us it seemed huge! It was located near the barn on the south end of the property so it was a ways away from the school house itself! No problem!
What us guys did was pour a path of water two or three feet wide so we could skate all the way from the single door school house exit, across the yard to the rink. You see during class we had our skates piled up against the large heat register screen at the back of the classroom, this way they were toasty warm by the end of class, slipped on our skates, parkas, and went rushing down the stairs, through the door, skating madly across the yard to the rink in minutes! Sometimes we just untied our skates and kept them on our feet for class!
You see, we had a great adult community hockey team in our community so we wanted to be like them, winners! I had eyesight issues so I was not that good at the game itself, but I have to say I was one of the best skaters in the school! We often played a game then called "pom-pom-holliway!" where one or two began in the middle of the rink tagging the larger group of students, staking through from one end to the other. At some point only the most agile and speedy skaters were left, weaving and dodging through the crowd. It was a proud moment when I would be one of the two or three left to skating through the group.
I also enjoyed the attention of being considered a gifted child.
As time went on my teachers began to appreciated my artistic abilities, having me draw the Christmas decorations on all the blackboards for our community Christmas programs – Santa Claus, sleighs, holly, angels, candles and so on.
I enjoyed learning: history, social studies, geography and loved our scant school library.
But in reality, all of this was overshadowed by a feeling of never really fitting in. I entered into grade one not knowing how to speak English. We spoke low-German at home only. I experienced a lot of teasing/bullying and often went home in tears!
Then I had eyesight issues which caused another delay until I got glasses. I was one of those smaller children, under-developed, sensitive, artsy, bookish and unpopular.
To make matters worse, I had a learning disability, I did not catch onto spelling and math. Somehow, I saw things differently; letters and numbers danced in my brain and defied any organization.
What also didn’t help was that because of multiple grades in a one room class room, the teachers tended to use the blackboard for teaching purposes. We were called up to work on the blackboard practically every day – specially to learn spelling and math.
Because I would tend to reverse numbers and letters, which seemed so obverse to everyone else, the teachers thought I was doing this on purpose to defy their teaching instructions. The other students would see me struggling and begin giggling.
The teacher would try to correct me but despite of all their good efforts I could not perform as needed! This resulted in embarrassment, shame and meltdowns on my part. Teachers were frustrated and I was a mess – any leftover learning capacity gone!
My parents were notified and they too felt the embarrassment and shame in the community. They bought a blackboard and began going through the same processes at home. This went on to the point of exhaustion, both for me and my parents. I began to wonder how I would survive at all!
Finally when i got to like grade seven or so, one of teachers who was new to the school spoke to my parents suspecting a learning disability and assisted them in getting me checked. Which they did! I had dyslexia. Suddenly all the yelling stopped on a dime! But the deed had been done. My trust level was gone!
The worst part was that because everyone saw my natural inclination to doodle in my school scribblers as a distraction, I was finally discouraged - perhaps the word is prohibited - from doing any art at all at home or school.
Meanwhile, my first cousin decided to make my life miserable. To this day I do not know why he did this. He was sneaky, inventing all kinds of ways of creating school yard mischief - like releasing my horse from the school barn, scaring my horse with firecrackers and then blaming it all on me.
I mentioned his antics to my parents but they could not believe that a child of one of their own siblings would do such things!
So, I just stopped talking to them about what was happening.
One morning this cousin of mine was dragged by his father, into our barn by the ear while we doing chores. I happened to be milking a cow and was shocked to see my cousin and his father standing in front of me.
The uncle spoke. “You have something to say to Cliff – say it now.” My cousin, apologized for some thing, I cannot remember what it was because I was so traumatized. All I knew was that now I was in real trouble. He was embarrassed and there was going to be hell to pay.
So, I said, “Of course I forgive you.” I said, knowing I had no choice.
And I was right – it did make things worse.
Not long after as I was driving our two-wheel wooden cart home filled with my younger sibling and a friend or two, another horse cart with my cousin and his "goon" friends came up from behind us, I moved over to allow them to pass but they decided to scare us and our horse in the process of passing – snapping their whip, in the air, yelling and so forth.
My poor horse started to gallop uncontrollably and veered to the left to avoid them and running full gallop into the ditch. The wheels (wooden spokes) crushed once we hit the bottom of the ditch and our poor horse dragged the cart through ditch onto the field, the wheels, spokes and axel destroyed.
It was a disaster – our wagon demolished. Fortunately, no one was hurt, and I had to unhitch the traumatized horse from the cart, calm her down – calm the children - and walk her and the others with me home.
Meanwhile, my cousin and his friends, were long gone, knowing what they had done and left the scene of the accident! Not even offering people a ride! I could still see and hear them laughing with derision as they passed.
My father was not amused, but this time I didn’t have to defend myself. It was now all evident.
I think because of all of this, my parents started to feel sorry for me. They gave me two important gifts.
The first was a dresser desk in my second-floor bedroom at my window overlooking the field and pastureland – an artist's heaven. They expected me to use the desk for my school work, but it was also a place for me to do my art, and I could hide my art in the many shelves of my dresser desk
Then somewhere I heard of this course and begged my parents to purchase a 'Home School" Photography course
They were reluctant but after some persistence on my part they succumbed and purchased the course for me. After all, in their minds, it wasn’t really art!
Unawares to them and myself, the Lord had just gifted me with a course that would teach me the basic principles of art. Along with the box camera that was a requirement of the course, they had bought me the tools to practice the principles of art and design, balance, rhythm, patterns, emphasis, contrast and movement. At the time, learning all of this was my escape and my survival.
Later in life, I realized what God had done for me. He had arranged for me to learn the very basics of art in spite of all the obstacles – this turned out to be an essential gift that would become the basics of any art I did in the future! invaluable in practically any aspect of art in my life later on.
What does this say to me? God made a point!
"When I give gifts, I want them to be developed and used for the kingdom! If you cannot due to circumstances develop them, I will make a way!"
In my case the Lord provided a way to develop my artistic gift in the very midst of the enemy! Wow! That’s how important these gifts are to him - to us.
Cancer Care is just down the street ten minutes away and the staff there are efficient, understanding and positive. I believe death is a living ministry.
Before I go the Victoria Hospital - I will tell another story. Not sure about this one - mixed feelings.
*****
I attended the most famous school in Saskatchewan, Huffnungsfeld Elementary School, made famous because its first teacher was William Diefenbaker, the father of the Right Honorable John G. Diefenbaker, former Prime Minister of Canada.
I experienced it as a big spacious one - roomed school house with one wall of windows and another of blackboards, located 14 miles north of Borden – approximately two miles from our home.
There was no doubt that I enjoyed going to school, riding horseback on a good day, and in bunk on cold windy days, furnished with a bale of straw several inches thick spread out on the floor.
I also always enjoyed sports especially hockey. Hockey was actually a big thing at Hoffnungsfeld school during the winter. The community had built a large ice rink with boards all around. Not sure if it was "official size" but to us it seemed huge! It was located near the barn on the south end of the property so it was a ways away from the school house itself! No problem!
What us guys did was pour a path of water two or three feet wide so we could skate all the way from the single door school house exit, across the yard to the rink. You see during class we had our skates piled up against the large heat register screen at the back of the classroom, this way they were toasty warm by the end of class, slipped on our skates, parkas, and went rushing down the stairs, through the door, skating madly across the yard to the rink in minutes! Sometimes we just untied our skates and kept them on our feet for class!
You see, we had a great adult community hockey team in our community so we wanted to be like them, winners! I had eyesight issues so I was not that good at the game itself, but I have to say I was one of the best skaters in the school! We often played a game then called "pom-pom-holliway!" where one or two began in the middle of the rink tagging the larger group of students, staking through from one end to the other. At some point only the most agile and speedy skaters were left, weaving and dodging through the crowd. It was a proud moment when I would be one of the two or three left to skating through the group.
I also enjoyed the attention of being considered a gifted child.
As time went on my teachers began to appreciated my artistic abilities, having me draw the Christmas decorations on all the blackboards for our community Christmas programs – Santa Claus, sleighs, holly, angels, candles and so on.
I enjoyed learning: history, social studies, geography and loved our scant school library.
But in reality, all of this was overshadowed by a feeling of never really fitting in. I entered into grade one not knowing how to speak English. We spoke low-German at home only. I experienced a lot of teasing/bullying and often went home in tears!
Then I had eyesight issues which caused another delay until I got glasses. I was one of those smaller children, under-developed, sensitive, artsy, bookish and unpopular.
To make matters worse, I had a learning disability, I did not catch onto spelling and math. Somehow, I saw things differently; letters and numbers danced in my brain and defied any organization.
What also didn’t help was that because of multiple grades in a one room class room, the teachers tended to use the blackboard for teaching purposes. We were called up to work on the blackboard practically every day – specially to learn spelling and math.
Because I would tend to reverse numbers and letters, which seemed so obverse to everyone else, the teachers thought I was doing this on purpose to defy their teaching instructions. The other students would see me struggling and begin giggling.
The teacher would try to correct me but despite of all their good efforts I could not perform as needed! This resulted in embarrassment, shame and meltdowns on my part. Teachers were frustrated and I was a mess – any leftover learning capacity gone!
My parents were notified and they too felt the embarrassment and shame in the community. They bought a blackboard and began going through the same processes at home. This went on to the point of exhaustion, both for me and my parents. I began to wonder how I would survive at all!
Finally when i got to like grade seven or so, one of teachers who was new to the school spoke to my parents suspecting a learning disability and assisted them in getting me checked. Which they did! I had dyslexia. Suddenly all the yelling stopped on a dime! But the deed had been done. My trust level was gone!
The worst part was that because everyone saw my natural inclination to doodle in my school scribblers as a distraction, I was finally discouraged - perhaps the word is prohibited - from doing any art at all at home or school.
Meanwhile, my first cousin decided to make my life miserable. To this day I do not know why he did this. He was sneaky, inventing all kinds of ways of creating school yard mischief - like releasing my horse from the school barn, scaring my horse with firecrackers and then blaming it all on me.
I mentioned his antics to my parents but they could not believe that a child of one of their own siblings would do such things!
So, I just stopped talking to them about what was happening.
One morning this cousin of mine was dragged by his father, into our barn by the ear while we doing chores. I happened to be milking a cow and was shocked to see my cousin and his father standing in front of me.
The uncle spoke. “You have something to say to Cliff – say it now.” My cousin, apologized for some thing, I cannot remember what it was because I was so traumatized. All I knew was that now I was in real trouble. He was embarrassed and there was going to be hell to pay.
So, I said, “Of course I forgive you.” I said, knowing I had no choice.
And I was right – it did make things worse.
Not long after as I was driving our two-wheel wooden cart home filled with my younger sibling and a friend or two, another horse cart with my cousin and his "goon" friends came up from behind us, I moved over to allow them to pass but they decided to scare us and our horse in the process of passing – snapping their whip, in the air, yelling and so forth.
My poor horse started to gallop uncontrollably and veered to the left to avoid them and running full gallop into the ditch. The wheels (wooden spokes) crushed once we hit the bottom of the ditch and our poor horse dragged the cart through ditch onto the field, the wheels, spokes and axel destroyed.
It was a disaster – our wagon demolished. Fortunately, no one was hurt, and I had to unhitch the traumatized horse from the cart, calm her down – calm the children - and walk her and the others with me home.
Meanwhile, my cousin and his friends, were long gone, knowing what they had done and left the scene of the accident! Not even offering people a ride! I could still see and hear them laughing with derision as they passed.
My father was not amused, but this time I didn’t have to defend myself. It was now all evident.
I think because of all of this, my parents started to feel sorry for me. They gave me two important gifts.
The first was a dresser desk in my second-floor bedroom at my window overlooking the field and pastureland – an artist's heaven. They expected me to use the desk for my school work, but it was also a place for me to do my art, and I could hide my art in the many shelves of my dresser desk
Then somewhere I heard of this course and begged my parents to purchase a 'Home School" Photography course
They were reluctant but after some persistence on my part they succumbed and purchased the course for me. After all, in their minds, it wasn’t really art!
Unawares to them and myself, the Lord had just gifted me with a course that would teach me the basic principles of art. Along with the box camera that was a requirement of the course, they had bought me the tools to practice the principles of art and design, balance, rhythm, patterns, emphasis, contrast and movement. At the time, learning all of this was my escape and my survival.
Later in life, I realized what God had done for me. He had arranged for me to learn the very basics of art in spite of all the obstacles – this turned out to be an essential gift that would become the basics of any art I did in the future! invaluable in practically any aspect of art in my life later on.
What does this say to me? God made a point!
"When I give gifts, I want them to be developed and used for the kingdom! If you cannot due to circumstances develop them, I will make a way!"
In my case the Lord provided a way to develop my artistic gift in the very midst of the enemy! Wow! That’s how important these gifts are to him - to us.
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