by Dalia Gesser
When a good friend began taking her Blond Lab to visit patients at a hospital, it triggered my interest in doing the same with my Black Lab, at a local long-term care facility. It was heartwarming to watch the seniors light up when they saw Max, a large gentle canine, and a great way to initiate chats about the dogs they previously owned. The only problem was that Max was bored. Each time I walked past the front entrance, he pulled me towards the door like ‘Marmaduke’, letting me know that he wanted to leave. After two months, I decided to keep Max at home and began volunteering in other ways.
Aside from my designated activities, I especially enjoyed talking to the residents and hearing about their personal histories. These elders came from different walks of life with diverse backgrounds. All I needed to do was ask and they readily shared something interesting and unexpected.
One of the women I assisted with bingo, described the flower wreaths she made, in intricate detail, during her career working at her sister’s flower shop. I felt privileged to attend her 99th, 100th, and 101st birthday parties. My fondest memory of her was when she taught me to play cribbage, in her 102nd year.
I met a man who talked about working at a dairy farm, at the age of eighteen. He described labouring in what was then the largest dairy operation in that county. There was a talented painter, a competitive swimmer, and a university professor. A school bus driver, the students called ‘mom’, always made time for her young passengers, who were more comfortable confiding in her than in their own parents.
After years of running theatre arts programs in elementary schools, funded by grants, I decided to apply for a community grant to enhance the lives of these residents. Along with movement, mime and theatre games, story sharing was an integral part of every session. The group and I had a wonderful time, and most importantly, there was lots of laughter. As a result, I changed my theatre arts focus from children to seniors and never looked back. Over the next few years, I continued applying for grants and was fortunate to carry out workshops with other long-term care facilities, adult day programs and senior residences.
I made the most of the story sharing component, using themes and everyday objects to trigger participants’ life experiences. I could never predict what was going to come out of someone's mouth and every time I thought I’d heard it all, a participant would relay another amazing or unbelievable story. A mild-mannered gentleman was hiking in a state park with his wife, when an eagle swooped down and tried to grab the stuffed animal bunny that was part of his spouse's backpack.
A lovely woman took her three-year-old grandson to a restaurant when the toddler noticed a large clean-shaven man at the next table.
“How come Santa’s not wearing his beard?” he asked his grandma.
The man, overhearing, said to the little boy, “My beard is at the laundromat.”
A cheerful lady talked about her first family outing to a farm, when she was a young girl. She saw cow pies and didn't know what they were. Curiosity got the best of her, and she was just about to pick one up when her dad stopped her. Inevitably, she stepped in them anyway.
There was an older man who grew up in Tanzania and relayed the time his family drove to a national park, situated inside a crater. As they entered this large basin through the only road into and out of the park, they were awestruck seeing so many animals. When the family stopped to observe some elephants, the herd began to charge their car. We all felt the excitement as this man, who was only ten at the time, described how they barely escaped the assault of the pachyderms.
As an ice breaker, at the beginning of each program, I asked the participants where they were born. We would take turns around the chaired circle and discover the range of birthplaces. I kept notes and used this information for further discussions in other sessions. One time, as usual, I asked the group members to share where they originated and without hesitation, an octogenarian piped up and said, “From my mother’s bed.”
No matter how old, it’s refreshing that seniors never lose their sense of humour.
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