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Listen to Edith and Eddie’s story as you read it (below).
The insistent, brassy blare of Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood” rattled the framed photos on the mantelpiece, a familiar prelude to the evening’s main event.
At 90 years old, Edith, a woman whose spirit still sparkled brighter than her well-worn wedding band, braced herself. She leaned her walker against the plush armchair and gave Eddie, her partner in both life and absurdity, a theatrical bow.
“Your move, dear,” she announced, her voice a playful challenge over the swing-era saxophone.
Eddie, clad in a faded flannel shirt and suspenders, grinned. At 90 himself, with a twinkle in his eye that belied the slight tremor in his hands, he accepted the challenge. He settled into his favorite recliner, a venerable piece of furniture that had seen more dance-offs than a Vegas showgirl. This was the stage for his signature “interpretive chair dance.”
He started slowly, his head bobbing to the rhythm, first to the left and then to right. His shoulders began to roll. His hands, gnarled with age but surprisingly expressive, carved shapes in the air, mimicking the trombone slides and trumpet blasts, first to the left and then to the right. He pointed his left finger above his head, then twirled it with surprising grace. His feet, still on the floor, tapped out a lively beat, a silent counterpoint to the raucous music.
It wasn't about grand gestures; it was about the subtle, heartfelt connection to the music, a performance designed to elicit a laugh from Edith.
Edith clapped, a genuine, hearty sound that filled the living room. "Bravo, Maestro!" she cheered as the song faded.
It was her turn.
“Alright, let’s get this party started!” she declared, and with a mischievous glint, she cued up a track on their old CD player: “Cha-Cha Slide (Part 2)” by DJ Casper. The infectious beat immediately filled the room, making even the dust bunnies under the sofa seem to sway.
Edith grasped the handles of her walker, a sturdy aluminum frame that had become an extension of her own will. This was no ordinary mobility aid; in her hands, it was a dance partner.
"To the left!" DJ Casper commanded, and Edith, with surprising agility, pivoted her walker to the left, taking small, deliberate steps. "Take it back now, y'all!" She retreated, her feet shuffling precisely, her eyes fixed on some invisible point in the middle distance, utterly absorbed in the moment.
The “cha-cha-slide with a walker” was a carefully choreographed spectacle of coordinated movement and pure joy. Her hips swayed gently, her shoulders shimmied, and her smile was wide and unselfconscious.
She might not be able to execute a perfect spin anymore, but the spirit of the dance lived vibrantly in her every move. The walker became her anchor, her pivot point, enabling her to maintain balance while still expressing the music's energy. It was less about dazzling technique and more about the sheer delight of movement, a playful rebellion against stiffening joints and the increasing pace of time.
They had started "Dance-Off Dinners" a few months after Eddie's knee replacement surgery, a way to keep him moving and Edith entertained. They found it wasn’t just about the physical benefits — the improved heart rate, the surprising boost in balance.
It was also a fantastic way to loosen up their minds, shed the day’s quiet anxieties, and remind themselves that joy was still a choice, an active pursuit. The giggles that erupted midway through a particularly enthusiastic "Cha-Cha Slide" were as important as the steps themselves.
When the music finally faded, both were slightly breathless, their faces flushed with exertion and laughter. Edith leaned against her walker, still grinning. Eddie, still in his chair, gave a mock bow.
“Dinner, my dear?” he asked, his voice full of warmth.
“Only if you promise an encore later,” Edith replied, her eyes twinkling. They knew the real magic wasn't in the fancy steps but in the simple, shared rhythm of their lives, a dance that had lasted for years and was still finding new beats.
Also hear and read this “parent story” from 2024:
Go to “Fred’s Countdown to Closure (Episode 1 of 5)”
Age: Our greatest asset!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “52 Shades of Graying”
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This puts me in mind of Steve Goodman's song, "Old Smoothies." It's about a couple of septuagenarians who still mesmerized all the folks in the ice arena as they glided around to a waltz. Though these two have not yet had to face the challenges Edith and Eddie have, it's still a sweet image.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y13TtebajEE
Steve has another version with different lyrics I like even more, but I can't find it today.)
I use a mobility scooter to get around most days because it’s faster than my walker and easier on my 82-year-old feet. But, that’s not really good for keeping the muscles in my legs in shape.
So, I try to spend 20 minutes each day pedaling on a recumbent, stationary bike in our senior living exercise room while I watch the news on TV. The last 10 minutes of that session I try to go to my top speed and resistance to get my heart rate up.
The exercise room has four great machines for keeping my upper body in shape, and I must get back to that routine, which I established five years ago with the help of a personal trainer. I over-did my time on those machines last year and pulled a muscle in my arm. So, I’ve been avoiding those machines – for too long.
By the way, the pre-dinner dancing moves Edith and Eddie follow in this story reflect the 30-minute group exercises Pam, my wife, and I also follow each Monday and Wednesday morning in our senior living community,
* What routine are you following to maintain your physical fitness?