"You Make Me Feel Alive Again"

A couple of years of tap and ballet in grammar school. Dancing like all teenagers in the ‘50s at sock hops and proms. Married at 17 to a professional drummer (had a gig on our honeymoon!). Jazz dance lessons for a year at 19. Square dancing for three years at a rate of five nights a week until my second husband became a square dance caller. In my 40’s, taking Bellydance lessons when I was single and 30 lbs to dance off! For the first half of my life, this was the extent of dance and music in my life. Not good enough to perform professionally, but loving every minute. And, I did lose the 30 lbs!

Fast forward to when I am 59, and on the threshold of my 60th decade. After realizing that I humiliatingly missed a $100,000/yr job with perks of a car and a computer (unusual at that time), because of my appearance (heavy again) and age, I joined a gym and lost the 30 lbs – for the second time in my life!

But this time was different. I had never belonged to a traditional gym but instantly loved the Curves for Women gym. Interval training on resistance equipment – I could do this! I lost my 30 lbs plus another 10 in about 12 months. I felt great. I was so impressed with my journey back to humanity that I wanted other women to be as happy as I was. So, my husband, Roger, and I bought they gym! Our franchise was a fixer-upper that needed to be developed. My marketing background was perfect for that. Within a little over two years, we had doubled our original membership and were only 25 members from our goal number necessary to become truly profitable.

But fate was not kind to us. We were like the poor schmoe who opened a business in 1928 then was hit by the Great Depression in 1929. We opened in 2006, just before the Great Recession hit in 2008. In 30 days in the Fall of 2008, we lost half of our membership. We took cancellations right and left from faithful members who cried, telling us they could no longer afford their membership. Our gains had been hard-earned, and we were determined not to give up. For six more years, we struggled in hopes of the economy turning around. Financially, we exhausted even our personal resources during these years. Our pockets were not deep. We gave our all, but it would not be enough,

The positive, marvelous moments of our struggling years were what kept us going. We had five women who lost over 100 pounds each through our coaching, working daily with them, sharing their pain every step of the way. We witnessed journeys of countless women who did not hit that mark but made life-altering changes in their appearance and their mobility. We had young girls working out for the first time in their life, realizing how great it was for them. We worked with women with disabilities that felt uncomfortable at regular gyms. So many success stories!

Sixty percent of our membership were older women as we live in a retirement area. Many of those, like me, had never been in a traditional gym, but also like me, found our systems easy to do. They had been old school conditioned to believe that “nice” women don’t do gyms! Only male wrestlers and bodybuilders. But they knew they needed to exercise to extend their ability to remain living independently and enjoy their senior years.

Roger was truly the wind beneath my wings. He totally supported our venture and grew to enjoy the daily inspiration we drew from the members. Even though it was a women-only environment, the women more than tolerated him sitting behind the desk doing our bookwork and paperwork. He was my rock and became a good friend to many of our ladies.

In 2011, our parent franchisor, Curves International, teamed up with a hot, new dance exercise program called Zumba. As an owner, I felt that if I had to hire Zumba Instructors, I should learn what it is and how to judge anyone I would allow to teach in our club. I wanted to be sure that they would be worthy of teaching our members.

It became obvious that the only way I would gain this insight would be to become a Zumba instructor myself. Only then could I judge and appreciate whether others were good at it or not. Although I was in the best shape of my life, I was 66 years old and the certification class was an all day dance certification. It ended up that it started at 8:00 am, with a short mid-morning break, 30 minutes for lunch, a short mid-afternoon break and back on your feet until 5:00 pm! Fast-pace high-impact Latin rhythm dancing all day! By the time class ended, I was exhausted and already getting sore. I was ready to teach and definitely in love with Zumba!

Earning certification did not stop there. To learn low-impact, senior-oriented Zumba, I attended ANOTHER full-day training for GOLD Zumba. Not quite as draining as it was a different pace. This class included seated Zumba for seniors unable to stand to dance. Little did I realize how life changing this would prove to be for me.

After teaching GOLD Zumba at the gym for about a year, a member brought me a fateful opportunity. lShe was a Director at a local assisted living home. She had such faith in me that she insisted I would be wonderful doing seated exercises with her residents. It quickly became a weekly event and opened a door that has not closed since, but would only open wider.

Not too long afterward, we made the difficult decision to close our club. It was heartbreaking. Despite a landlord who had worked with us, wonderful employees patient about being paid, and a hard-core group of supportive members, it had to be done.

The next few years were one long struggle. Luckily, I had my social security and Roger had his retirement. But we found it necessary to file bankruptcy as many others did during that time. It was even a struggle to do that, as we had to find a lawyer willing to work with us to pay for the expensive process. That kept the creditors away, but we were still missing the club income, as meager as it had been. Our lifestyle had never been extravagant but it was not bare-bones. But, it quickly became bare-bones.

I dredged up a life skill from an earlier part of my life and became a second-hand flea market vendor. We even asked our friends to save aluminum cans and scavenged for metals at garage sales to cash in at the recycler. We were frequent customers at the local Dollar Store. All of the things you do when you don’t have money. My one class at the Assisted Living was our only other source of income. Times were tough.

Then after a year or two, another Zumba teacher asked me to substitute for her at her seated class. About the same time, I hooked up with a medicare insurance company who paid me a fair amount per class to do marketing with their agents at retirement communities. I started some stand-up classes in retirement communities and worked hard to build their attendance. And before long, the word was getting around in the retirement-home communities that I was doing fun and effective seated exercise programs.

Over the next six years, my reputation in that community grew. Activity Directors called me asking me to work at their facility. By 2020, when the pandemic literally locked me out of my classes, I was teaching at four assisted living facilities and four retirement communities, averaging 10 classes per week. AND LOVING IT!!

My typical day at class? Actually, no day is typical for I never know what to expect. But there is one thing that does not change. I do not start my day alone. I have a buddy named Gizmo, the cutest little mechanical, white-faced Capuchin monkey! My Mom had found the first Gizmo at a garage sale. His real name is Dave the Funky Monkey but he was Gizmo to me! Turns out that this life-like little robot had been “Toy of the Year” in England around 2012, so he had not been seen in America very often. The first Gizmo lasted me about two years until Roger sat on him in the car! When I researched replacing him on the Internet, I discovered he had become a highly sought-after collectible, with a price tag of $100 which I was just not willing to pay.

So, for a few years, I was a solo act again. I never gave up, checking the Internet every few months. I though surely if a company had made a lot of profit with them, they would make them again. I was right and found him one day unexpectedly at a reasonable price of $35. I bought three to make sure I would always have a Gizmo.

My residents absolutely adore him. He does 30 different things. He waves at them, giggles, acts shy, shakes his head yes or no, plays invisible drums and even belches and farts! He and I have become a pair. So, whenever I pack for classes, I make sure Gizmo is with me, filled with fresh batteries and ready to go. He now resides in a sit-proof carrier to avoid any accident. My people know us as a pair, and that is fine with me. I am dedicated to making them smile, move and feel better. And Gizmo always seems to bring out the child-like qualities of wonder and fun.

My seated Zumba is a 30-minute movement program. I put them at ease by telling them to do “whatever you can do”. I mean that. At one class pre-pandemic, I had two ladies over 100 years old. At that age, most of my residents will have “new” ailments from day-to-day. Perhaps they fell, maybe their arthritis is acting up, maybe their cancer chemo was particularly difficult – it is a constant struggle. I am always in admiration, seeing them push through whatever pain they have to move with me. I respect their determination.

I choose lively, positive and upbeat opening songs that put a smile on their face and rhythm in their feet. I mix Latin, oldie-goldies with rock from all periods, from the ‘50s to today and all in-between. Think Pitbull, Perry Como, Bing Crosby mixed with Jimmy Hendrix! Then we have a slow, easy stretching cool down. Of course, much of the music is not familiar to them but they like that. They know the next song might be Dean Martin, Doris Day or Frank Sinatra that they can sing with.

After several years working at my first facility, the Director told me she wanted me to develop a seated Tai-Chi program for her residents. I was flattered but informed her that I had no training in Tai-Chi. She looked at me, thrust an old 8-track tape, “Tai-Chi for Seniors”, into my hands and said, “Oh, you can do this. I put you on the calendar in January.” That was October. I had two months to come up with somethng.

As I looked into Tai-Chi, I discovered that to teach the actual practice of the discipline I would have to learn over 108 movements. I was not ready to do that and I knew it would be difficult for my residents to learn and remember that many movements. I decided to compromise. I used my storytelling skills to put together a story about an everyday Chinese citizen, back in ancient times when Tai-Chi was first practiced.

I incorporated many of the Tai-Chi elements as movements that would be made by our villager while performing his everyday chores and actions, waking up to the Golden Rooster That Stands on One Leg, lots of “walking”, Archery motions, Repelling the Monkeys, etc. The monkey movement even allowed Gizmo to be involved! By the end of the story, the residents would have stretched for a full 30 minutes. And, they would not even think about how much they had actually exercised because they were busy listening to me tell my story. It became a hit and I became a storyteller.

I called it Tai Chair. Not only was it popular at that facility but I was soon invited to duplicate the program at other facilities. One of our local hospitals sought me out to provide it to their senior program members. I had a regular class there right up until the pandemic.

Since I now teach either Tai-Chair or Zumba at all levels of retirement facilities, I have learned to work with each stage of aging. I teach stand up GOLD senior Zumba at condos and retirement villages, where residents are still capable of living independently. I teach seated exercises at assisted living homes where the people are able to move but not stand and move. Most people live in assisted living homes because they cannot cook for themselves or perform other daily duties but need to live where food, nurses, and activities are provided for them. Then some days, I teach at skilled nursing/rehab facilities that provide the next level of senior care. These residents are permanently in need of intense nursing assistance and possibly in Hospice care.

Each level brings different experiences daily. As I was teaching a stand-up class, I noticed a lady crying. I tried to stop the class, but she shook her head for me not to. At the end of the song, she shared with everyone that while doing the squat/bend/touch-the-floor sequence we had been doing in that song, she had realized it was the first time in seven years she had been able to move that way. She had limitations from a previous injury and Zumba allowed her to recover her range of movement.

A general observation from teaching low-impact GOLD Zumba to this able-bodied senior group has made me realize how good it has been socially for them. Many in this group live alone and can become introverted. It is meaningful to see them develop friendships and support systems through my classes.

When I have a class at an assisted living facility, I change my expectations of how much they can participate as opposed to the stand-up classes. Although most are ambulatory, some are in wheelchairs. I am always amazed at the positive attitudes these wonderful people have. They are, however, hungry for a smile, a laugh and a temporary escape from their daily doldrums. No matter how I feel, I always smile and have Gizmo interact with them. I watch to see who is responding and who needs some extra positive support those days.

Assisted living facilities are quite a mix of people. Some are just physically not able to care for themselves and are there for safety and support. Others are in the beginning stages of dementia or Alzheimers or some other illness. One lady was an adult/child who was a sweetheart. Due to some malady she was born with, she never matured. In spirit, she remained a teenager. There is usually one class clown, I fondly recall Nick from New York. Nick would sing along with every song at the top of his voice. He would often tell jokes – maybe a tad off-color – but not too much, as he would quickly remind you that he was a gentleman from New York.

Then there was a couple I will never forget. They were both in their 90’s and both in wheelchairs. They were inseparable, always wheeled right beside each other in class for at least a year. Then one day she showed up by herself He was nowhere around. I had learned not to ask direct questions about an absence for most of the time it was because someone either had been taken to the hospital or had passed. So, I greeted her but didn’t act as if anything were different. After class, the class busy-body hurried over to me. She asked if I knew about the breakup. She proceeded to tell me that the woman had broken up with her boyfriend because she was convinced that “he was having sex with another woman while talking to her on the telephone”! It was really hard for me hold back my laugher!

Several days I go straight from one type of class to another and have to shift gears accordingly. From one of the above, I may go directly to a skilled nursing area. I never know what I will encounter there. And, although some still exhibit that indomitable positive attitude that I so respect, many others are in more intense pain and struggling to smile through it. 

While setting up my musical equipment in a nursing area, the aides wheeled in a lady totally wrapped like a mummy. Only her face, her fingers, and toes were not wrapped. To this day, I do not know what befell her to put her in that predicament. The first thought I had was to wonder what in the world physically could she do? How could she respond to my music? Once I started my program, about two or three songs in, I heard beautiful singing. I almost cried when I realized it was her. She was singing and gently tapping her fingertips together prayer-like. She was expressing joy and responding to the music in the only way she could!

Another day in a similar class, a devoted husband was sitting beside his wheelchair-bound wife. She had downward spiraling health. I waved at her when I came in, and she remembered me and smiled back. She always made an attempt to do what she could. I had not met him before, but more importantly, he was spending time with her today. About halfway into my songs, the Director motioned for me to look to the back of the room where they were. He had gotten up, stood in front of her, and taken her hands as if dancing with her. The Director whispered to me that he had never done that before, and his wife was obviously enjoying every second with him. The Director and I both were fighting back tears. 

Of course, there are emotionally trying times, too. Only once have I been working at a facility while they were removing a deceased resident. Luckily, my class members were facing me so it was happening behind them. I was the only one witnessing it. It was hard for me to keep my composure. They had swaddled the person like a mummy, and the wrapped body was being removed on a gurney. Seeing it right in the middle of my class hit me quickly and unexpectedly. In that instant, I froze. You become accustomed to showing up at a class and familiar faces not being there for the obvious reason, but being physically confronted by death was different. Sometimes, too, I will come to a class where the residents have lost a friend. Those days can be difficult, as I have to work harder that day to bring them out of their grief for a short time.

And, then there is my personal forever feel-good memory. It happened in this same class, and really touched me. Pre-COVID, I made it a practice to go to each person to say goodbye. This one day, one of my regular residents leaned in close to me, and simply said, “You make me feel alive again.” I will never forget that. It continues to inspire me each time I go to any class. This is why I do what I do!

This year I am approaching working with seniors for over 16 years, almost one-fifth of my life. I sometime get bored with the same songs and the same exercises, but I never get bored with the smiles and laughs created during their time with me. I feel so very blessed and fortunate to have found my niche. Never say it is too late in life to be an instrument of happiness and hope for someone else. I am just so grateful for the opportunity to work in my own senior years doing something so very fulfilling and worthwhile.