The Tapestry Of Adam’s Race

Goodnight Irene

In a tattered little upstairs apartment somewhere on the east coast there sits a little old woman turning through the yellowed pages of a well worn scrapbook. There is a half empty bottle of wine on the coffee table and a dirty glass, red around the rim with lipstick. The furniture is cheap and well worn. The smell of stale cigarettes permeates the air. There is a cigarette lit in the old woman's hand as she leans back on the ragged and faded green sofa and closes her eyes..."Just for a moment." she thinks. But in mear seconds her thoughts fade into the troubled repose of a thousand unmade dreams that never would come true. Disconnected thoughts of husbands that control, hit hard and vanish. Not enough food for the children, working long hours for never enough money and many other clouded worries of a life passed in struggle and sadness. In the same moment the cigarette falls from her fingers a moonbeam cuts across the front room of the tattered little apartment. The light and almost silent feet of the Elves Gayland and Renardine pad down onto the floor. Gayland takes up a watchful position in the shadows that now wash the room while his brother catches the smoldering cigarette as it falls from the old woman's fingers and before it hits the floor. They two will guard the dreams of the old woman this night. Renardine of The Guardians of DreamLand and of the Elves is tall with long flowing dark hair. He is smooth swift and graceful with eyes of starlight and moonless midnight. He sets his armament by and takes up a position on the sofa lowering the head of the sleeping old woman into his lap. His tunic, softer than silk is soothing to her careworn face. His fragrance of the woods and waters of the dreamland wild eclipses the smell of stale cigarettes in the disconnected thoughts of her slumber. He begins to stroke her hair very gently. The cloud of sadness stress and tension of past troubles and present emptiness fades from the women’s brow. Her furrowed forehead becomes smooth. Renardine begins to sing ever so softly in the language of the elves as thoughts of joy, peace and contentment... Yes and of love as well replace those of fear, regret and sadness. As her dreams go sweet Renardine continues his serenade. By and by the old woman who's name is Irene drifts into a deep untroubled sleep the like of which she has not known since childhood. The guardian of her dreams continues his melody so soft and so low that it can only be heard by Irene herself deep within her dreams. As night drifts into the wee small hours the Guardian gives some small attention to the old scrapbook. Turning the pages with just a touch of Elfin charm Renardine sees faded pictures of a 4 year old Irene. A pretty, perky, bright eyed blonde child in the uniform of a drum majorette. Next, a yellowed newspaper clipping with another picture of little Irene, Baton in hand, strutting back and forth in front of and Army Engineer's Band In which her father and uncle played. They were marching up Tremont St in Boston in the Memorial Day Parade in the Spring of 1941. After that there is a letter to the parents of this child from then Governor Saltenstal inviting them to bring the little band leader to a dinner party in June of that same year. There are quite a few letters from a Hollywood movie producer who saw the parade and wanted to put the child into movies. In one letter Mr. Goldwyn said, "Even with spectacular entries right in front of them every head in the crowd had turned. They were all looking at something I could not yet see coming up the street. Just another band I thought and then I saw this Magical Little Girl Drum Majorette leading all these Soldiers and everyone was transfixed on her.... Signed Mr S. Goldwyn, MGM Studios. The year was 1941. The war broke out. Little Irene's dad and uncle went over seas with the other soldiers. She never got to go to Hollywood and be in pictures. As he looked through the pages of her life in that old scrapbook he saw few happy times and many sad ones. Now here cradled in his arms dreaming to his song lay a careworn old woman with unmade dreams of almost being a movie star, regretting now for 60 years the time , the place and the war that took her chance away. But this moment she does have the tender and abundant strength of Gayland and Renardine of The Elves and of The Guardians of DreamLand watching over what remains of her dreams.... "Goodnight Irene. We all wish you the happiest of dreams."