Chief Dan George and Friends: The Farewell Performance, by Lloyd Dolha

Chief Dan George looked out a window on the second floor. He could see the crowd making its way into the friendship centre, a lot of familiar faces he would never see again. This was the price of growing old, he thought to himself. He was approaching his mid-sixties, his children had their own families now and he was being blessed with more and more grandchildren. It was a good time to be alive, to look back on his life and watch the children grow. He could still tell the young ones his stories. That was all life left you with was your stories. Living out those stories was in the past now and the future was not a sure thing, you had to hold on to what remained.

Now even the music was being taken away from him. Tonight was the band's last performance, he would never be onstage with his three daughters and two sons again. For sixteen years he had watched his little band grow, it started with him and his oldest son Bobbie and eventually his daughters Marie, Rose and Anne were part of the group and eventually his youngest son Leonard took over on drums. He was proud of them, they were good musicians and wonderful singers and to be onstage as a family was special, maybe even sacred. He drifted off for a few seconds, thinking about some of the places he had played, the people he had met, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway...