Exercise & elections

Okay, it’s Wednesday, I know, that’s why I’m writing my column for Saturday. That’s the way it works every week. Usually my weeks are empty except for Wednesday when I have singing lessons and my deadline. Those are the only two things I must do and they happen on Wednesday.

Last Monday I decided to become a member of The Sunshine Place and took my first Gold Zumba class. Let me tell you about exercise and me. We are not intimate friends. Once I would walk for an hour every morning but now there are no decent sidewalks where I live. So every morning for about 20 minutes I walk to and from my kitchen watering my plants on two porches. That is all the exercise I have.

I think the last time I had formal exercise classes was seven years ago when I went to a Pilates class. I loved it but after a few months they decided to move to a place that was too far for me. Then there was the Zumba given by a cousin. It was too strenuous for me.

But last Monday I wanted to do the Gold Zumba class because of my dream — to become a nightclub singer. I need to get my body into some sort of shape. The class was slow and fun. Somewhere within the first 15 minutes I realized that the steps and the hand movements came from dances I used to dance in my teens. If you are over 70, I’m sure you remember how you used to move your shoulders to the song “I’m old enough to chicken, old enough to rock the bop. . . “I remember dancing that with Tonette Lagdameo when I was 15 and he was just a few years older. We were good.

But now, 55 years later, my body doesn’t remember how to do the movements anymore. Shake, shoulders, like you used to before. They shook once or twice then began to tremble. I swear I cannot believe what has happened to my body. It remembers the steps, the Beatle dances and the hand movements, but my body won’t do it. I’m going to tame this lion, I thought, the lion being my stiff stubborn body. If it kills me I will dance all those dances I used to dance when I was a teenager. With practice I can do it. I used to do it in three-inch heels and I can’t do it in walking shoes? What kind of a body do I have?

I have the sort of body that withers and dies after half and hour of step-cross-step. It is a bit depressing to feel how old you have become, how you remember the steps but memory is a lousy teacher. It reminds your feet and your hands of the movements but they cannot respond. They just want you to stand and look.

 Then this afternoon I had my voice lesson. It began better than it was last week then I don’t know what happened but I sounded like a toad with a sore throat. It was like a swallowed a hundred really small firecrackers and they were crackling in my throat. And I began to panic thinking maybe I won’t get my dream after all.

And then there’s all the tension over elections coming up two days after this piece is published. People text me saying that Grace Poe is a liar. She lied about her citizenship or she gave up being Filipino and I want to say —is that the lie you accuse her of? Let me tell you — everyone running for president and maybe even vice president lies in major ways. Everyone. If you blame Grace Poe for becoming an American citizen I think you ought to think deeply again.

I lived in the US. I wanted to become an American citizen for the benefits. My daughter who lives there is an American citizen. She works there. When she loses her job she gets unemployment pay. She gets free medical care. Life is easier for American citizens than for non-citizens. But my daughter still loves the Philippines, still cooks adobo, never changes from being Filipino. Grace Poe had all those benefits but she came home many years ago. She ran for office and got elected. Nobody made a fuss over her citizenship. Now that she is running for president, everybody says no because she isn’t a Filipino anymore. Why did you elect her when she ran for office the first time?

Anyway, I will vote for Poe and Robredo. And I will pray that they win because the Duterte-Marcos rumor I hear from the north fills me with fear. Six full days of prayer. Make them win please. And dear God, can you manage to arrange my voice so I don’t sound like a toad with a sore throat next Wednesday?

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