On Monday night, when Rachelle and I were at the Masonic Temple for the taping of a TV show, I recognized one other member of the audience. Sitting two rows ahead of us, in a sliver and black disco shirt, was a 75 year-old man named Salvatore. We had worked as volunteers together at the Princess Margaret Hospital Lodge, where we helped to facilitate a weekly event called Music Night.
Music Night was usually a modest event. For the most part, it consisted of a handful of volunteers leading a sing-a-long in the basement cafeteria of the lodge. The idea was to provide a little bit of distraction for the residents, who were people from out of town staying in Toronto while they received treatment for cancer.
Salvatore, who was a retired physician from South America, liked to dance. That was his thing. Fancying himself something of a Lothario, in spite of being very round and no more than five feet tall, he would salsa with all the women while the rest of us sang along to a tape of La Bamba. In short order, Salvatore kind of took over creative control of Music Night, rendering it a grab bag of unpredictable activities.
One night, claiming to have learned how to hypnotize people while working as a physician, he decided to put on a demonstration of his abilities. Choosing a pretty 16 year-old Music Night volunteer named Caitlin as his assistant, he attempted to weave his magic in front of the puzzled residents, who always had a hard time understanding him through his thick accent.
Caitlin was not even remotely affected by his efforts, although Salvatore very sincerely believed he had cast her into a trance. She stood there awkwardly before the crowd, pretending to be hypnotized, while every once in awhile breaking out in giggles behind Salvatore’s back.
Salvatore, completely unaware of this, slowly explained the complex mechanics of hypnosis to the crowd, before turning to Caitlin, and saying in his thick accent, “Now, you dance like Madonna.” Caitlin closed her eyes and fell into character, before starting a modest, little dance. Salvatore beamed brightly.
He then snapped his fingers so that the spell was broken. “ And now, you will be dog. You will bark like dog.” This seemed kind of perverse, like we were actually taking a journey into Salvatore’s subconscious and not Caitlin’s. No matter, Caitlin, now blushing, was a trooper, and putting her hands up before her face, like they were paws, let out a few puppy yips. Again, Salvatore beamed, and stretching out his arms to the crowd, he took a deep bow, as everybody in the cafeteria unleashed thunderous applause.