GOOD NIGHT IRENE

Bill was one of twelve siblings and grew up in Northern Alberta. The family lived on a ranch farming wheat and raising cattle.

Horses were used for work and for riding to the one room schoolhouse. He started grade one there and completed grade eight. Then it was time for daily ranch chores and moving cattle around. He had rapport with horses and was an expert rider, so was often the one assigned to drive the cattle between pastures, along with one or two of their trained dogs. He enjoyed working the days, but Saturday night was the highlight of his week. That was when the community hall was opened for the weekly social and dance.

He loved dancing and excelled at it. His older sisters had taught him well. An affable sixteen year old, he was sought after by young and old as a dance partner. The waltzes and whirling continued into adulthood. He could now attend dances in the Legion hall. The band always played Good Night Irene for the last waltz. It was there where he had first met her, the one who would later become his wife. He vividly remembered the night she first came to his bed but what was her name? Ah! Annie! Where was she now? Suddenly a uniformed woman appeared and told him that she would take him to the activity centre.

Was that what they called dance halls these days? He wondered. How could he dismount strapped on the saddle like this? Where were the stirrups?

The care aide proceeded to take command of the wheelchair and push it down the hall to the activity centre. It was not a ride for an experienced horseman.

Entering the centre, he was dismayed to see he was not at a dance social. People who were not strapped into wheelchairs and asleep, sat disconsolately on couches or in the few armchairs provided, an unseeing white haired herd wearing name stickers for the benefit of the personnel. He looked for Annie. He needed her to get him out of this nightmare and take him home. A log cabin, children, dogs and his favourite horse flashed before him.

“Annie! Annie!” he called out.

And the recesses of his mind opened. He was holding her and they were waltzing.

He crooned softly in her ear, “Good night Irene, good night Irene. I’ll see you in my dreams.”