On my first Sunday in Florida, when I visited Cecile, her care team pulled me aside and quietly told me that her cancer had spread. I sat at her bedside, played songs and shared a pot of tea with her. I sang ditties from movie-musicals and Cecile's favorite folk songs; the louder notes were just enough to drown out the sound of 90-year-old Vicky crying from next door, or the percussive noises emanating from Cecile's bedpan.
Though I don't look like it in this setting, I am, essentially, a gig worker: A few times a year, I accompany elderly people to Florida as an aide, hired by individual families. Professionally, my job title is up for debate; I like to think of myself as a surrogate grandaughter. When I'm not working in Florida, I shoot photos on film; when I am at work, I visit isolated elders, hopping from retirement home to long-term care residence. Winter is typically seasonally warm in Florida, and a good time to escape the social pressures of winter parties — you know, young people stuff. I've always been drawn to these kinds of places: In my youth, I performed and sang in retirement homes, which helped me overcome my battle with stage fright. Though I am a filmmaker now, I still find time to fly down for gigs like this.
