No. 195 – Ghost Dance

Performer: Robbie Robertson & the Red Road Ensemble

Songwriters: Robbie Robertson, Jim Wilson

Original Release: Music for The Native Americans

Year: 1994

Definitive Version: None, although I saw a sweet live performance of this song on YouTube, since removed, that featured Rita Coolidge looking superhot in leather fringe.

When Debbie and I went to Toronto in November 1994, one of the places we visited at the Eaton Centre was a store that sold Canada merchandise. I already had a flag, so I didn’t buy anything, but the store had a stuffed moose wearing a Mountie uniform, which apparently was the national mascot.

How cool was that? At the time, Scott kept his old stuffed Opus on his computer, and I thought my computer needed a similar companion. It was fairly expensive though, like $50, and I ultimately decided it was too rich for my blood for an impulse purchase—and almost immediately after regretted my decision.

That year was my first Christmas with Debbie. We decorated her tree, complete with the two ornaments we bought in Toronto, a couple weeks before the big day. On Christmas Eve, she was going to have her whole family over, which was how she liked to celebrate the holiday. I already had met everyone, so that wasn’t a big deal, thank goodness.

That day, I went to her apartment early to help with the setup and stopped at the nearby Big Bear to pick up a couple of things she requested for the party and a bottle of champagne for later. Just inside the entrance, the store had a Christmas display that included a stuffed cow, and my reaction was almost like it had been in Canada with the moose. I don’t know why, but I knew Debbie had to have it, and this time, the price was right: $10.

I presented it to her upon arrival, and she loved it. She said she hadn’t gotten a stuffed animal in decades, but she loved her little cow, which she named Otto.

The evening was a great success, and finally Debbie and I were alone, so we could exchange our own gifts and open the bottle of champagne. Debbie had one in particular that she couldn’t wait for me to open—particularly after she had gotten her Otto. As I tore into the paper, I had an inkling of what it might be.

Sure enough, it was—the Mountie moose from Canada. It’s name was Binkley. “You looked at that moose over and over, and when you didn’t buy it, I had to get it for you,” Debbie explained. So she snuck a business card from the store when I wasn’t looking and ordered it through the mail almost as soon as we got home. I was overjoyed.

Well, Binkley never made it to my computer. From that night on, Binkley and Otto were inseparable. We made them the centerpieces atop Debbie’s bed, and that’s where they remained after we moved in together the next year.

I’m happy to say the two remain inseparable. When Debbie and I broke up in 2001, Debbie said she couldn’t bear the thought of separating them, and she insisted I take both. I didn’t want to, knowing what they represented, but I relented.

They went into a box—together—and into a closet at Mom’s condominium. (I didn’t want them with me.) When Mom died, and I moved the last of my stuff to Chicago, the box that contains Binkley and Otto came along and was placed in the storage garage that Laurie and I share.

They aren’t like the Ark of the Covenant—buried among an endless stack of similar boxes. I know where they are, and, someday, I’ll turn them over to my first grand niece or nephew. They deserve a better fate.