Sweet City Woman
(Dodson, R) The Stampeders
Well, I'm on my way
To the city lights
To the pretty face
That shines her light on the city nights
And I gotta catch a noon train
I gotta be there on time
Oh, it feels so good to know she waits at the end of the line
Sweet, sweet city woman
I can see your face, I can hear your voice
I can almost touch you
Sweet, sweet city woman
And the banjo and me, we got a feel for singing, yeah, yeah
Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon
Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon
Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon
Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon
So long, ma
So long, pa
So long, neighbors and friends
Like a country morning
All snuggled in dew
Ah, she's got a way to make a man feel shiny and new
And she sing in the evening
Old, familiar tunes
And she feeds me love and tenderness and macaroons
Sweet, sweet city woman
I can see your face, I can hear your voice
I can almost touch you
Sweet, sweet city woman
And the banjo and me, we got a feel for singing
Sweet, sweet city woman
Oh she's my sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman
Sweet, sweet city woman
oh my sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman
Everybody
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman
I just got back from another trip with my brother, Ken. He had planned to go out to Calgary to hang with our aunts and uncles there, with the added bonus of going down to Lethbridge, where we went to high school, in order to meet up with some of his old friends. I was seriously uninterested in this trip - I just saw the aunts and uncles when they came to Nova Scotia in February; saw half of them last month in PEI; knew I'd feel like a fifth wheel on the Lethbridge detour - but despite telling Ken I simply didn't want to go, when he asked me again at Laura's birthday in June ("So are you coming to Alberta? You're coming to Alberta. You'll come, won't you?"), like the spinster sister of a Victorian poet, I agreed, once more, to be my brother's travelling companion. And I had fun despite myself.
I don't have a whole story that I want to memorialise about our time in Calgary, except to note that I really enjoyed meeting my (deceased) cousin Trevor's fifteen-year-old daughter, Grace, for the first time. As I noted to Ken, Trevor was my favourite of the cousins we knew (not that we spent all that much time with any of them), and I enjoyed taking Grace to the Calgary Stampede with the aunties: That's a picture of me up there at the rodeo, and the only inspiration for this week's song by The Stampeders (about whom I should have written when we went to their concert last year; great show.)
About the Lethbridge trip: Ken was super nervous on the drive down, chewing the cuticles on his thumbs raw. I guess it is pretty risky to contact a couple of old friends after thirty years to say, "I'm dying and I'm going to be in town and wouldn't it be fun to catch up?" We arrived at our Vrbo (cute old house in the downtown core), went out shopping for snacks and drinks for the gathering, drove past our old house (the brown slab siding had been painted white, but otherwise exactly the same), and toured around the city that has doubled in size over the decades; totally the same and completely different.
Nearly forty years ago, Ken shared a house with two brothers - Eric and Jeff - and it was them that Ken had wanted to see. Eric came to the door, same as he ever was, but Jeff (who is recovering from a massive stroke) had to be helped along by his wife. Eventually, Eric's girlfriend arrived (Eric had divorced his first wife and his second, "the soulmate", died of cancer), and the evening was filled with storytelling, remember-whenning, and so many laughs. Jeff had some difficulty communicating - often using the wrong word, trying to write the correct one in the air, and his wife interpreting - but he was also telling his stories and laughing along. (Ken had hoped to see another of their old friends, Pat, but he had also apparently recently had a stroke and his wife was cagey about visitors.)
The most important thing - and when I put it this way to the aunts and uncles later, Ken agreed - was it was a full circle moment for Ken. When he left Alberta, Ken had no career plan, no education, no partner. He had been a bit of a lowlife through high school, and I don't know if even his friends would have expected much from him. But Ken got to reconnect with the people who knew him best back then, and between the two of us, we told them a story of a guy who runs a twelve million dollar department at one of Canada's biggest hospitals, who's about to celebrate his 30th anniversary with an incredible woman, and who has two kids who are on their own paths to happiness and success (not to mention a close enough relationship with his sister that she travels the country with him, even sometimes against her will). In return we got to learn of these friends' successes - noting that their happiness has not been untinged with loss - and ultimately, there was nothing weird or uncomfortable about the visit. Ken got exactly what he hoped for out of it and I ultimately didn't mind being back in a place to where I never expected to return. Yada yada, we went to Waterton the next day, saw a bear, had a barbecue with Eric and his girlfriend, back to Calgary for several more days, but that evening was the point and the full circle moment and maybe an ending, too. With terminal cancer, Ken finished something here. And I was happy to help him get there.
Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon
Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon
Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon
Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon
