Gronlid's Last Dance
THE TOWN
Main Street in Gronlid is silent.
It's only a block long. There's a saloon, a post office, a small firehall and, at the end, the community hall, a curved wooden
structure familiar to anyone who has spent time in small towns or villages, like a horizontal cylinder that's two-thirds buried.
On this sunny Saturday afternoon, you can sit for a half-hour and see only one or two cars drive by. But tonight will be
different. Tonight, the block will be packed with vehicles and the hall will be packed with friendly faces.
For 11 years, the winter months in Gronlid have been livened up by the monthly old-time dance. Folks from all around will come to
foxtrot, polka and whatever else the music demands.
Gronlid's population was listed as 67 in the 2011 census. Depending on the month, a dance can more than double it, and tonight a
good turnout is guaranteed.
Tonight, the first Saturday in May, is special. It's the last time Gronlid will host one of these dances. The hall will still be
used for weddings, receptions and - more than ever these days - funerals, but with attendance waning and patrons getting older
it's time to put the dances to rest.
People will come for this final get-together from St. Brieux, Humboldt, Spalding and many more of the communities that dot the
nearby prairie.
Welcome to the last dance in Gronlid.
THE BAND
With 20 minutes to show-time, Irene and the Good-Niters are almost done setting up. The three-piece band has 18 pieces of
equipment. Between saxophones, a fiddle, guitars, amps and a keyboard there are plenty of wires to run. They move with the confidence
of a seasoned road crew, even though Irene Schellenberg, 79, is the youngest band member.
Schellenberg, who plays keyboard and sings, wears a colourful, flower-patterned blazer. She will rarely be seen without a smile.
She sits between Raymond Kalk, who plays fiddle and saxophone, and her cousin, Edmund Nelson, who plays electric bass because his
standup bass is just too much trouble to haul around.
The hall is a familiar venue. Over 11 years, Irene and the Good-Niters have played all but one of the old-time dances here.
"It's just a nice social evening and it's going to be missed," said Schellenberg over a cup of coffee earlier in the day.
It's not the band's only gig. They play senior centres, public events and sometimes casinos. When Prince Edward came to Melfort in
2003 they were the entertainment and still have the photos to prove it. But that's not to say they won't miss it.
"I enjoy playing for dances. I'd sooner play for a dance than dance. I'll play the music and let them do the work," says Kalk who,
at 87, stays on his feet the entire performance.
There are no special plans for this last dance. They'll go through their repertoire, trying their best to play at least a bit of
whatever dances the crowd desires. They will not play the chicken dance, Irene makes a point of saying. That is saved for weddings.
With setup done, Irene sits in front of her keyboard, adjusts her microphone, and waits for the clock to strike eight.
It's time to play.
THE DANCE
The inside of the hall is brightly lit, and the atmosphere is energetic. People chat about what's been going on since the last dance,
and there are enough of them to fill the space with a friendly buzz.
As showtime rolls around, the dance floor is almost empty, with patrons choosing instead to pack the benches that line the outside of
the hall. Were it not for the mix of genders among each pocket of people, it would resemble the first few notes of a slow song at a
dance for eighth-graders.
When the band starts playing, it all changes.
Save for a few patrons physically unable to do so, everyone is on their feet, shuffling and twirling. The previously empty dance
floor now looks full. Everyone knows the steps to every song. Some stick to one partner, while others swap between tunes or when band
leader Irene Schellenberg leans forward to her microphone and says, "Bingo!"
Glenn and Irene McFarlane have been the main organizers of the Gronlid dances through the entire 11-year run.
"It's a way of keeping our age group active. We're like a big family," says Irene McFarlane. The other Irene, who plays onstage, was a
bridesmaid at their wedding.
The end of the dances is sad but inevitable, as with most endings.
"The crowds are going down. We're all getting older, the bands are getting older, and there's fewer people," says McFarlane.
This Gronlid tradition is ending, but its spirit will live on. Polka Fests and warm-weather shindigs will occupy the summer months.
Come winter, there will still be dances in other communities on the other three weekends each month, and some folks from Arborfield,
about 50 kilometres east, plan to start holding dances to replace Gronlid.
So tonight they'll dance until well past dark and, after enjoying the potluck meal that always comes after, they'll head home knowing
the fun will continue elsewhere.
It's the last dance in Gronlid, but the music will play on.
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