ALana, Meet Alice

Alana, Meet Alice

My friend Alana has danced countless hours in front of the studio mirror. And then one day while no one was looking, something amazing happened. She ventured through the looking glass to meet Alice: A tale of early-onset dementia.

“I’m not strange, weird, off, nor crazy, my reality is just different from yours.” Lewis Carroll

Alana Beidelman and I have a history that revolves around dance. I own a dance studio, and she has danced-out-loud — practically since birth.

In 1993 we joined forces.

One of my early interactions with this luminous redhead was in my jazz dance class. Me, teacher. She, student.. By observing, it took mere seconds to see that she was a pro. In fact, I later learned that Alana was actress Shelly Long’s body-double in the film “Outrageous Fortune” where the actress launches into a grand jete across an expansive canyon. Of course we don’t see Alana’s face, but the film captures her perfect in-air splits. And in tight blue jeans!

“Well, some go this way, and some go that way. But as for me, myself, personally, I prefer the short-cut.” LC

Back at Studio A Dance, it wasn’t long before Alana was invited to be a part of our studio’s company “Cumulus.” Additionally, within the time it takes to travel across the oak floor via pas de bourrie, she became a ballet and tap instructor at the studio. And she and I great friends, and decades-long dance partners. We performed to songs like Natalie Cole’s “L-O-V-E ,” Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight” and the theme to “Peter Gunn” to name a few. We also hit the stage at Cerritos college, where she was on the dance faculty. One piece that stands out in my mind was to Ella Fitzgerald’s version of “Stone Cold Dead In The Market.” This silly, Jamacian-inspired song relays the story of a woman so fed up with her husband’s abuse that she kills him in the public market with a frying pan and rolling pin. And yes, we acted this out in a dance romp. So much fun!

Stone Cold Dead In The Market

Although her personality is soft-spoken and unassuming, on stage she has no problem slipping into queen of camp. Meanwhile, away from the studio Alana’s fingers were on the pulse of the LA’s cultural hub. Alana was executive assistant to Gordon Davidson, the founding artistic director of Los Angeles’ Center Theatre Group, as well as their Board Liaison. To my delight, I was invited by Alana as her guest to many opening night galas. The edible spreads were often over the top, but in those early days, what stands out in my mind more are her salads served at our fledgling dance company “galas,” and at her home “ballet barbeques.”

Mind you, Alana is no celebrity chef, but she does toss up a mean garden salad. Although this ballerina’s specialty of greens may be all the rave, what sates the appetite more is the purity and sweetness that emanates from her soul. I’ve known this curly-topped talent for more than 32 years, and not only do we share our love for dance, we share the same gardener. His name is Jose. This gentle-man has also worked for Val, Alana’s sister. At this point one may surmise that Jose has a relation to Alana’s salad, but no, her crisp leaves are sourced from the local market’s produce section.

“Only a few find the way, some don’t recognize it when they do — some… don’t ever want to.” LC

Big sis Val relays the story of how one day in early 2024, Jose runs into Alana at home, finding her underweight, weak and aimlessly wandering. He instantly assessed, and determined she was quite confused and in need of nourishment. This caring soul rode down the hill to the “baby” Target and bought her some food. Soon thereafter, communication of Alana’s state opened up between Josè and Val.

“Not all who wander are lost.” LC

Long story short: following many medical evaluations (an unimaginable journey led by Valerie) it is determined Alana has early onset of dementia. Today I ask: How could my friend, this sparkling radiant ruby, be in this altered state? By the time I find out — many months later — I think back to our last interaction. She rang me in early November 2023 asking for a mechanic recommendation to replace her starter. I remember she seemed a little panicked, maybe even a little off, but otherwise clear. I called her a few days later and left a message to see if she had any success, but no response. Maybe I should have paid more attention because this was not like her. I tried a few more times but simply let it go.

I did not trust my instincts.

“When you’ve understood this scripture, throw it away. If you can’t understand this scripture, throw it away. I insist on your freedom.” LC

Fast forward some months to Regent Oak Knoll, a fancy-name for a live-in memory care facility in Pasadena. A place where stream-of-consciousness reigns, and where I’m convinced every employee has been hired due to their enthusiasm and innate glowing spirit — like that of high school team cheerleaders.

“Birds of a feather flock together.” LC

The first visit to see Alana post-diagnosis is with my friend Jeanine. The visit is difficult. (I have not seen Alana in nearly a year) The usual sure-footed, triple-turning ballerina is now unrecognizable and her prima stature diminished. Her appearance? Wilted, hunched over. Added to that, her now uncharacteristic tortoise-paced gait resembles that of a person inflicted with polio. But you know what? She is smiling.

”Well! I’ve often seen a cat without a grin,” thought Alice; “but a grin without a cat! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in all my life!” LC

I’m in too much shock to express any emotion. I’m in a state where I feel like balling my eyes out, but no outward proof is on display. (I’m numb) Instead, “cheerful” Bill smiles and makes small talk while below the surface he is in disbelief, and will cry later that day, in his own time.

“Alice replied, rather shyly, “I — I hardly know, Sir, just at present — at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.” LC

Yet on that very day I reflect on how important our friendship is, and I shall never look back to this day of profound sadness. Instead, I think about the many times I’ve heard Alana recite in her squeaky Shirley Temple voice “Turn that frown upside down,” index finger pointed to her dimple.

“If you’ll believe in me, I’ll believe in you. Is that a bargain?” LC

Each subsequent visit gives me not only a rush of joy, but a gift to behold of being in the moment. I am lifted from all the minutia of my daily life and transported to a place of wholeness.

I thank Alana for this gift. Every visit, I thank her for this gift.

Here’s what I realize early on. Jump into Alana’s dream and enjoy the ride. Conversations may not make sense, but neither do most dreams. Adventure was never lost on Alice In Wonderland.

Sometimes after diving down the rabbit hole, I take on the role of navigator, guiding this spaceship of wonder. For example, one day while sitting in the garden courtyard, Alana — in a state of panic — tells me she sees a person on a nearby balcony dangerously close to the edge. I look up to see a bushy, yet erect potted plant. I calm the tenseness. That’s funny,” I reply, “I thought the same thing, then I blinked a couple times and realized it’s just a plant. Try blinking” I suggest. Following a hard blink, she says “I could have sworn…” “Yeah, me too.”

“You may have noticed, I’m not all there myself.” LC

On another “visit,” this time with my friend Joey, I proclaim in my best game-show host tone “ it’s time to play name that sitcom!” I immediately sing out “da-da, dut-dut-da-dut-dut; name the sitcom!” I demand. I see the twinkle in Alana’s eye as she promptly replies, while her finest Cheshire grin is on display “I Dream of Jeannie” At that moment, I experience that feeling of sliding safely into home base — in slow motion — and realize that the non-dementia part of her brain has been tapped, and is — for this moment — alive and well. The game continues and will resurface in several future visits with replies for the most part being spot-on.

When stepping through the portal of Oak Knoll, to make this work, I realize my visit must be fully immersive, nothing is scheduled for the rest of my day, if I can make it happen. I don’t want time constraints to hinder the visit’s magic. First the journey takes the form of a kids’ game: “Alana, Alana, come out come out where you are”. I greet the receptionist and ask if they know where Alana is. (She could be one of many places: the Daisy room/ arts and crafts , the living room/ trivia/ OT/ karoke, the dining room, the cafe, or sitting outside in the garden) On my way to Alana, I pass resident Ginny, to whom I give a hello, she only responds with a suspicious nod. Then there’s Lillian from Belgium. When I say hello to her, she simply speaks in word salad, and now it’s my turn to nod, but in solidarity.

“No, no! The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time. LC

I find Alana in the living Room where there’s ballroom dancing competition on the big screen. I greet Alana “hi!” She seems surprised (she always does) and offers a cheerful hello then dives intently back to a pad and paper, and the ballroom competition. I figure she’s judging the competition, but I’m wrong. Instead, she’s writing down names of the songs that she is hearing.

I decide that today the visit requires less verbal interaction, and just hanging out and observing my good friend. She is so rapt with the music and the television that I simply just sit next to her and revel in her focus. I notice that she looks really good: she has gained weight so her face has filled out. I ask if we can take a selfie together. “Sure” she replies with a big beamer.

“When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one!” LC

Another time I bring my dog Mimi, a shihtzu who loves living the lap of luxury — literally. Mimi and I escort Alana outdoors to where Alana settles in the first chair in sight. I ask her to scoot out of the sun so her fair-skinned skin won’t burn. I hand her Mimi.

On this particular afternoon, I learn about all of Alana’s dogs throughout her lifetime. Kees, Shadow, and McCree, to name just a few.

During all visits, there are tangents. One in particular is the loss of her purse, or was it stolen? She wonders. Others include she missed a rehearsal, or her boss is mad at her because she lied. “I never lie, and Gordon should know that”

“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” LC

I always have responses “I’m sure your purse is at reception, rehearsal was rescheduled, and you are definitely reading into Gordon’s accusation. He probably meant …”

“Go Ask Alice, I think she’ll know” Jefferson Airplane

The outing: One day I pick up Alana for her birthday lunch at my house. When I arrived at Oak Knoll, Val was helping Alana get ready for the big event. She dressed Alana in a new sparkly sweater, and American Beauty Rose-colored lipstick. I am “wowed,” by her appearance. Guests included close friends and past ballet students, celebrating our dear friend. Although she was joyfully holding court, it was our gourmet black coffee that gave her the biggest thrill .. …. and buzz. “More please”

“Take some more tea,” the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.
“I’ve had nothing yet,” Alice replied in an offended tone, “so I can’t take more.” “You mean you can’t take less,” said the Hatter: “it’s very easy to take more than nothing.” “Nobody asked your opinion,” said Alice.” LC

About a month ago, when I pulled in my garage, I noticed Josè taking a break from trimming the Bougainvillea. He approached me asking how Alana was doing. I told him that she’s doing just fine. His response did not take me by surprise, but did give me a warm feeling. He asked me if I wouldn’t mind giving him the address of where she was now living, and would it be okay if he could stop in and visit. As for me? I look forward to the many memories in store.

“How can one look forward to a memory when one has not had one yet? On the other hand,without looking forward to a memory, a memory cannot be created, can it?” William Brown

“In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?” Lewis Carrol

FRAME OF MIND

TAPPING INTO DEMENTIA

Fifteen months ago—due to Jeanine’s sleuthing-- we finally had answers as to what happened to Alana. We learned that due to early onset dementia, our good friend now resides at Regent Oak Knoll Memory Care. Since then, I have visited Alana dozens of times, and many tell me how great it is that I do this for Alana, but honestly, I’ve come to realize I do this for me. One hundred percent. You’ll understand why by reading on:

After I make the left onto Oak Knoll Dr, my eye catches the massive fountain sparkling in the front garden, and I experience a sense of coming home.  I park my car and sit in quiet calm for a couple minutes. Frame of mind.

Next, I walk around the trickling water to the entrance. I speak to the door. “Hi!  it’s Bill. I’m here to see Alana.”   Magically, the door unlocks, and the familiar receptionist is already scoping a couple dozen postcard-sized video screens to find where Alana is located. Often it’s the dining room because I prefer to come at lunchtime. Alana’s table seats four, three plus me.   There’s something about sitting across from a friend that makes the visit intimate. In case you are wondering, my properly-mannered friend never talks with food in her mouth. Though I can’t say the same for tablemate Ginny. (cringe)

I approach. “Hello!”  “Well, hello!” is Alana’s pat response, always with a smile attached.

Once I’m seated, I immediately get the conversation started. On this day, here’s how I engage my captive audience: “Can any of you think of any car models named after animals?”  The lady to my right replies that she knew of some.  Alana nods. But only Alana smiles and participates.  I give hints like “a wild animal with whiskers, a type of bird, a small pony,” etc. Alana is fully “game on.” The others at the table seem rather rapt, but no offerings.  I find out that Alana’s mother Marion drove a brown cougar, and as a teenager Alana once drove a yellow Pinto, a hand-me-down from her older sister Val. I cringe and jest, “A yellow Pinto with a redhead behind the wheel sounds like visual overload.”   Alana disregards me, and smirks and says, “I know one named after a monster.” I cannot come up with anything that fits the description, so I say “Godzilla” knowing full well that is not a model of any car. She responds, “my friend Mickie drove an orange one, and the ugliest car ever made, the Gremlin!” She’s so right. I wonder to myself if the Gremlin’s designer is also responsible the Tesla truck. But full disclosure: I have no solid proof that yellow Pintos and Orange Gremlins ever existed, but if Alana says so, so be it.

Talking about the past comes easy for Alana, compared to the current world in which she dwells. She never knows which the day of the week is today, sees things that are not there, and she conjures up experiences that did not happen. When we go there, I listen and ask for clarification, and then I craftily change the subject.

Another fun activity—which Oak Knoll offers-- is trivia games, often held in the living room. But one day the internet is down, so there’s no youtube trivia channel on the big screen.  A Knoll team member explains the situation, and proclaims, “Instead, we sing!”  At that, he sits at the grand piano explaining that he only knows three chords, C - F and G.  “BUT (a long pause) I can play many songs with only three chords.”  At that, he expertly launches into a sway-worthy 3/4 rhythm, and starts singing “Que Sera, Sera.”  The room is in motion, and we all join in. I am belting with mediocre harmony (and I get a few strange looks), and to no surprise, Alana’s interpretation is a soft whisper. At the end of the song, I give our accompanist a hardy applause.  His reply to me? “Thank you, and today you get an extra scoop of ice cream.”  Giggles all around. As you may surmise by now, I selfishly prefer to visit Alana on my own, because honestly, I might not have sung if another visitor was with me. However, there are exceptions, and I welcome companions.

My visits always include laughter, unexpected situations, and feelings of warmth, love and encouragement. Although I have come to grasp that Alana will not improve, I do know currently her temperament is the same as always -- sweet, friendly and giving. I realize that this may change, so I’m getting in while the getting is good, for now.  

During this chapter of unchartered territory, I received help in the form of a book. My friend, Tiffany Chow, MD a (ballet dancing) behavioral neurologist-- who often took Alana’s class – sent me “The Memory Clinic, Stories of Hope and Healing for Alzheimer’s Patients and their Families.”  Her first-hand experience – not only with her own family member, but with countless patients and their families—provides me insight, and a cache of cleverness paired with good information.  I cannot recommend it enough. Tiffany not only shares detailed case histories but includes how each situation makes her feel. Sometimes there’s tears, other times enlightenment. Many anecdotal stories clue the reader into wise ways of interacting with family members who have dementia.   I found her book sad, heartwarming, funny and very educational. In one passage Tiffany talks about how one can offset dementia by plumping up our hippocampi (yes, there are two, she explains) with mind expansion exercises and techniques.   Count me in.

Visiting Alana 4th of July weekend 2025

Following dance class I make a left onto W Ave 42 by the baby Target and see ICE agents taking a sidewalk chef into custody. Still at the grill is a woman whom I presume is his wife. She is frozen in fear. The high from dance class drains from my entire being.  Minutes later I am home. I pop on my facebook account.  My friend Libby posted that today she witnessed ICE agents at Forest Lawn Cemetery taking a female flower vendor into custody. To add insult to injury, Libby notices one of the agents grabs two bunches of flowers for himself.

Utterly upset, I jump into a safety net of my upcoming day’s highlight.  My sights are now set on visiting Alana. Today is special because Anne, her friend from Florida, is visiting and asked that meet her at Oak Knoll.  Gladly. These childhood friends have not seen each other in ten years.  More pieces of the patchwork of Alana’s early life will reveal new colors and patterns. Exciting!  

I arrive early and see Alana in the craft room.  She and three others are drawing in a coloring book’s 4th of July scenario. I see my friend filling in a giant number 4 in electric yellow. As I approach, she lifts her head. “Well, hello.” She smiles. Within seconds, I see Anne and her husband across the courtyard and wave them over.

Alana is happily surprised and Anne is beaming.

I suggest we go outdoors into the garden where there’s a picnic table. Once seated Anne presents an envelope with photos! With each photo comes a tale. I’m impressed that Alana remembers names of some people that Anne couldn’t recall. As for now, Alana’s long-term memory is intact; I love going there with her. A synopsis of her shenanigans with Anne: Alana’s car dangerously skids on ice near a cliff in Crestline and Alana’s father Cliff (yes, a double cliff day) talks them down; the girls tear up turf at a driving range and due of that, their employee friend is fired; Alana runs out of gas on the 5 freeway in Central California, in the middle of nowhere. 

As the storytelling goes on, resident Lillian approaches the table and mumbles and giggles as she throws flower petals onto the table. She then picks up the photos, and starts shuffling.  Uncertain of her next move, I tell Lillian the photos need stacking, then take them from her hand and place them on the table out of reach.  “There” I proclaim. Alana looks at Lillian and smiles. Alana is sweet to everyone. Always has been.

As the visit ends with Anne, I suggest to Alana that we go inside.  We occupy two easy chairs, and I initiate talk of more memories which lead to a tangent, and tons of laughs. I find out about “the Mike Feeney incident” during high school times. Feeney was a redhead like Alana, so they were sometimes pegged as brother and sister. One day, he squirted mustard –intentionally, we think--on Alana’s new low-rise pink corduroys. Alana and her friend Mickie conjure up a retaliation scheme, which results in pouring hot sauce inside Feeney’s Fiat. I point out the alliteration and Alana and I launch.    For the next 20 minutes or so “f” words are the main concern of our conversation. The result reads like this: “Alana’s fiery redhead friend Feeney drove a fabulous fiat on a flat freeway on a Friday.” We are beyond amused at our creation. So much time as lapsed that we missed dinner call, so I escort Alana to the dining room. Awaiting is her seat with a blue linen napkin popping fan-fold style out of a glass goblet. I decide to sit for a few minutes until her meal is served. Proudly, I read our creation to tablemates Ginny and Rita. Rita laughs, as Ginny pays no never mind, but instead she’s having a conversation with her napkin. I notice the table next to us eavesdropping, so I read the Feeney fiasco to them. Also amused. “C’mon Alana, we are on a roll, any other F words?”  “Fondue!”  She blurts out. And I say “fiesta” Our final composition reads like this “Alana’s fiery redhead friend Feeney drove a fabulous fiat on a flat freeway on a Friday to a fine fiesta with fair food including far out fondue”

At that point, dinner is served, shepherd’s pie.  The smell is more than I can handle. “Alana, I’m going to take off so you can focus on your meal. Enjoy!”  As I exit, my mind goes back to the lady’s expression at the sidewalk grill. Back to reality. I escaped twice today.

July 9, 2025, A Surprise Visitor

Recently while Joey and I are sitting at the lunch table with Alana (he has committed to once a month), ballet student Joyce appears! It’s an event! Now there’s five of us.  Although Oak Knoll tablemate Ginny never says much, Rita to my left is always fully entertained … by me! The minimal extent of my standup comedy affords me this eager audience of one. Well, maybe an audience of two. (I say “maybe” because I think sometimes Alana laughs at my humor because we are such longtime friends, and she feels an obligation to support me.)  

 Before Alana’s main course is served, Joyce -- who runs the Torrance Farmer’s Market -- takes the lead.  She asks Alana which is her favorite Alfred Hitchcock movie.  Without skipping a beat, A’s response is Strangers On A Train. “Good one!” I laud Alana.  Of course, The Birds and Psycho are mentioned in a continuing conversation.

Joyce snaps a photo of Alana, Joey, and myself.  But she bows out of the photo, informing us that she is not photogenic. Insecurity? Maybe, but hard to imagine, because Joyce is gorgeous.

I cannot help but think that by writing down my visits and thoughts, I am logging important information to share with Alana, so when she is better, we can have a good laugh. Then I snap back from my wonderland, jump back into reality, and realize that Alana’s wonderland will always be a special place for the both of us, and others.

dignity

Before entering Oak Knoll, I’m in my car, and receive a text from Katie who resides behind the dance studio. She’s upset. Included in her text is a video of the back of the building with a track of blasting music, stamped 1AM. Ouch! First, I apologize and assure Katie that it will not happen again. She’s grateful for my instant response, and I’m so appreciative for the indisputable proof.   Next step, put out the fire so I can get on to what’s most important. The visit. I text Max, who books the space a couple evenings a week until 11:30PM (not 1AM), and who had promised to be quiet after 10PM. (Two strikes) To put this bluntly, I text him the evidence, and fire his ass.  

 Following a meditative deep breath, I enter Oak Knoll and head toward the dining room, but the desk clerk intercepts and points to a video depicting my good friend in the hallway. I meander down, make three rights and finally reach Alana. As I approach, she is leaning against a side rail crying like a lost child…... I ask “What’s the matter.”  Through tears and short gasps emerges a left field answer. “You called me fat!”  “What? I would never… Listen, you are trim, beautiful and I love you and don’t forget that. C’mon let’s go to lunch.” She is still weeping but allows me to escort her.  On the way, she informs me that last night at dinner when she walked in, everyone in the dining room turned her way and gave her a dirty look. I assure her that everyone loves her, and I’ll bet it was just a dream, Alice. Bad dream. An attendant notices Alana’s sad face and immediately puts a consoling arm around Alana “Oh, baby, what’s the matter?” As Alana sniffles, I respond that she is having a moment, and that we are heading to lunch. She walks with us, arm still around my favorite ballerina. “Are you her brother?” she asks. “No” I proudly announce that “I’m her dance partner.” In a flash, the attendant beams. “Alana look!” We both turn our heads to see this young lady in colorful scrubs jump back and execute a perfect passé with arms in 5th position. She laughs out loud, and we giggle. Note to self: Let this be a lesson to use spontaneity to change the tone of any situation. Just go silly!

A few moments later at the lunch table with tension melted, Alana is eating mac and cheese. A few elbows fall from the fork and land on her seersucker shirt tail. I help her scoot her chair forward. “Better?”  “Yes.”  As I sit, I ponder out loud “I’ll bet I’m the oldest person at this table. I was born in 1953. And Alana?”  She responds quickly “1954” but realizes she is wrong, and I say, “One year off.” “1953?” The other way I say. She repeats 1954 again. Haha. We finally get there. I turn to Rita, “Let me guess” She smiles as I throw a bunch of numbers at her until I hit. Next, I start reciting dates to Ginny, and this usually sedate woman suddenly takes on the persona of a speeding coke addict, and rambles on in a foreign tongue.  Chinese, maybe? She slides her untouched macaroni and succotash to me as an offering.  Time to think fast and go silly.  “Dance Lesson time!” I demonstrate the shimmy. “Rita, can you?” She nods her head in a quick “no.” And at that very moment, magic happens. Alana commands the table in her quiet way and speaks in an Emily Post-meets-college-professor tone “In order to do a proper shimmy, one must lower the torso down thusly and and rise up again while shaking side to side.”  I’m not sure why, but I am wowed, and I respond with action. “Like this?”  “Yes!”

We are officially –and thankfully-- a far cry from today’s earlier tears.

As the server appears and fulfills the tradition of serving Alana her black coffee, he asks if I’m Alana’s brother. I tell him that we dance together (present tense). He lights up and tells us about his own past dancing competitions of beat street genre.   In turn, I whip out my device (whip out my device: that sounded so weird, but I’m leaving it in for silliness’s sake).  I show him a black and white of Alana and myself on stage, from thirty-plus years ago.

At that moment, I notice someone familiar entering the room. It’s Val, Alana’s sister! The woman of slight stature is not hard to miss due to her impeccable style of dress (today mustard tones) and thick and curly hair to her waist. (the Beidelman hair genes are enviable). We hug and Val tells me how much she has enjoyed the writings of my visits.   But I soon learn this visit will be cut short because Val is here to take Alana to an orthopedic appointment for her hip. I observe the sisters interact. I can see that Alana feels security having her sister nearby. I also soak in the love and affection Val tosses her way. Sincere, gentle, assuring and cheerful -- all at the same time. At that moment, a “hello” flies over my left shoulder and it’s John, Alana’s brother-in-law. To me, he appears like a surfer on a vacation from the waves, all gussied up for an event wearing a tidy Hawaiian shirt that’s brushed by his shoulder length hair. He is the driver today. John also tells me how much he has enjoyed my stories. I am a bit overwhelmed. Following a brief conversation, John takes off first to get the car.  As our trio slowly heads out to the parking lot, Val is holding Alana’s hand. Once outside the building in full sun, Val notices where the mac and cheese left its mark. A gentle voice says, "Look, you have a bit of snack on your shirt.  When we get to the car, I have new one for you.”

This day, my last image of Oak Knoll is Val holding a new –and classy-- silky shirt, ripping the tags off with her teeth, assuring that Alana will go out into the world looking more than just presentable.  Dignity.

 Is That All There Is?

looking back three (plus) decades

Alana Beidelman first joined my cardio class at Studio A in the early 1990s. She brought a friend, and the newbies chose incognito status by parking themselves in the back corner by the door. (A quick exit strategy, perhaps?) But Alana involuntarily drew attention due to a high ponytail of volcanic explosion spewing red over the back of her head. Dress: shiny black plastic shorts – baggy and rolled at the top -- over a muted leotard. (this became her signature look) And this newcomer aced my choreography. Her friend’s skillset? Not so much. In fact, I never saw the reluctant dancer again.  My guess is Alana hijacked her to class, so she didn’t have to come alone

But for the sly recruiter, something clicked.  Because before long, Alana swapped the Nikes for jazz slip-ons, and joined my jazz class, and Terrance’s ballet. She worked hard, but was very quiet and demure, until we became friends.  And I know the exact moment that happened: during progressions across the floor. One may wonder, how do people become friends when focused on choreography?  Easy, during a “spin off!” (note: not spinoff). It goes like this: class moves sideways, dancing a pas de bourrée followed by a pirouette.  Since my only real talent is turns, I often show off and perform doubles.  Alana sees my proudest moment, and guess what?  Within minutes, a ferocious competition brews, displaying perfect triples and so-so quadruples. What’s most indelible in my mind is not the furious spins, but rather facial expression. If you know Alana’s smirk: deep dimples, and eyes peering out the side combined with an ironic “humph,” you’re under her spell!

 One day after class, I escort Alana out to the curb and am surprised to discover my new favorite redhead drives a muscle car!  Her edgy side surfaces. Although this bulging bicep of a fastback (Mazda RX-7) exudes masculinity, the metallic powder blue paint reveals this dainty dancer’s soft side. On the flip, I later learn that oh-butch-one knows all the players names in the LA Dodgers, including their stats.

The enigmatic ballerina.

Eventually, Alana becomes an instructor of ballet and tap at the studio, and the first time she arrives to teach, her edginess clouds. That’s because I see she’s carrying an old-fashioned square train case (remember those?) Except it is not. This is her music box, not boom box, but a self-contained record player, complete with arm, stylus and a single speaker. Across one shoulder is a white cloth bag filled with LP vinyls. Is she joking? She’s not. It’s the 90s and although CDs are in full swing, and digital files are just around the corner, Alana vetoes the technology. Her choice results in an old school ballet class ambience: sounds of skips, scratches, Tchaikovsky, and a serene voice schooling the formula of the sacred soutenu. Alana’s soft speak makes me think of Peggy Lee and how she formulated her unique voice. In interviews she recounts her early career of singing in raucous clubs. So loud that she kept raising the volume of her voice.  One day, frustrated, she tried an experiment and sang in soft tones which resulted in patrons leaning in to hear what she was singing. Ms Lee’s unique voice was born. Likewise, sometimes Alana’s students would complain to me that when Alana taught, her voice was too soft. Then lean in!   “If that’s all there is, then let’s keep dancing”

Epilogue: while visiting Alana the other day, I decide to read her this recount of her first visit to the studio. She chuckled during, and then I asked her if my facts seemed correct. She responded in the affirmative. Then I asked, “I was wondering, did your RX-7 have a stick shift, or was it automatic?” Response, “Well it’s a sports car, isn’t it? [smirk]

Wonderland Musings

Wednesday, July 23: My spouse joins me for the visit.  As we enter Oak Knoll, I act like I’m his realtor showing him around (although he’s been there before), and I signal him to follow me down the hallway -- as though we are heading to see a newly remodeled kitchen. But alas, we’re abruptly stopped, and I’m told Alana is off premise for the afternoon. Drat. Reason?  They can’t say. My mind goes to doctor’s appointment. Plan B: Head over to JC Penny’s housewares department and spend a bunch of money. Well, some.

Wonderland Musings

Wednesday, July 23: My spouse Kevin joins me for the visit.  As we enter Oak Knoll, I act like I’m a realtor showing him around (although he’s been there before), and I signal him to follow me down the hallway -- as though we are heading to see a newly remodeled kitchen. But alas, we’re abruptly stopped, and I’m told Alana is off premise for the afternoon. Drat. Reason?  They can’t say. My mind goes to doctor’s appointment. Plan B: Head over to JC Penny’s housewares department and spend a bunch of money. Well, some.

Saturday, July 26: Val texts that Alana has been in Huntington Hospital with arrhythmia and ought to be released the next day.  And she is. Oak Knoll likely knew her whereabouts, but confidentiality must be a playbook rule here in Wonderland.  

Wednesday, July 30: I arrive to find Alana devouring a tostada, the size of a cupcake, To date, I’ve noticed my good friend has eaten everything on her plate, but exception: beets. Following lunch, I escort her to the “TV Room” (TV is off). As we settle in comfortable arm chairs, I pull up i-tunes on my device and play “Midnight Train To Gerogia.” Alana and I are now the Pips. “Too much for the man….my world, his world…..”  I didn’t realize the song was so long. As we are pipp-ing away, the afternoon coordinator enters and notices our ditty, and intuitively pulls up the sing-along version (words included) on the large screen, with full sound. Most of the room is engaged, some singing along. We two background singers continue pipp-ing, while a gaggle of Gladys’s take the lead.

 Friday August 1: I arrive while a barbecue beef sandwich lunch is served. I tell Alana she looks festive. “Red, white and blue,” she cheerfully responds pointing to the stripes on her pullover. She adds, “And tomorrow is the 4th of July!” I explain to her that she’s not far off,--it has passed, but the next holiday will be a hot one too: Labor Day.  At that, I abruptly switch gears, and ask the table to guess the day of the week. With multiple clues, we finally arrive, and that’s when I notice Ginny. She, who  traditionally hardly eats, has finished all her food and is now finishing Rita’s cake, after I had cut it into artfully placed triangles on the plate. (Ginny usually picks up food with her hands, so I thought smaller bits might be less messy) I comment on her accomplishment, and with a mouthful, she responds enthusiastically in a foreign tongue. In response, I smile and nod affirmatively like a bobblehead, medium speed.

I deftly switch focus to Rita and ask if she’s a photographer, and she says “No.” I jovially respond, “You are today! Here (I hand her my phone) take our picture.”  I tell Alana it is time again for our “best model pose.”  Snap, snap, snap.

“Great shots!” I let Rita know that I approve, and that she’s hired.  She giggles. I text the photo to a thread of a couple of her childhood friends, and one comments that Alana’s eyes look red, and asks if that is associated with dementia. After reading the response to the photo, I feel sad, like I’m catapulted out of the rabbit hole of wonder; pushed out onto the literal side of the looking glass where reality can really suck. I try to leap back in. Instead, I hit hard and bounce backwards. Ouch.

 “Entrance denied!” shouts the Queen of Hearts.

Minutes later, I escort Alana to the living room.  Like always, she is worried about her lost non-existent purse. We sit on a sofa, and I take note of a classy-looking resident: impeccably dressed, a full bob with not a single hair out of place, perfect make-up, and sporting a featherweight sweater architecturally draped over her shoulders.  She catches me staring. Oops! I immediately shift my gaze behind her to a mountain-scape painting on the wall. I speak out, “Now why would someone place a large vase of flowers to block the beautiful painting?”

Out to Lunch With Alana (& her table-mates)

August 6

Lunch. Ginny eats nothing. In fact, during the entire meal, her utensils stand vertical (handles down) in her glass of cranberry juice. A still life.  I make a Lily Tomlinesque comment to the table, I point to Ginny’s full bowl of soup and say “soup.” Followed by pointing to her creation in the juice glass and say “art.”  I repeat the chant a few times. Rita, my biggest fan, giggles, as Alana smiles. Ginny remains stone-faced.

Alana brings up the topic of the time-step in tap dance.   “Time steps can be doubles, triples, and up to five” This boggles my mind.  I ask Rita if she tap-dances. She replies “no,” and launches into an enthusiastic monologue-- in her first language, which I recently discovered is Chinese. This is her norm, switch from English to Chinese and assume everyone at the table understands her native tongue. Her eyes widen as her tempo of foreign-speak revs up. Alana and I smile and nod enthusiastically as if we are hearing Rita recite her final moments of finishing the LA Marathon..  After the meal, I ask wait person Albert for Alana’s coffee.  I am gently scolded. “She is now only allowed one cup in the morning.” Got it.  On the way to the TV room Alana abruptly stops, grabs a room divider for balance and teaches me a riff. She demonstrates, and her tone is that of your favorite college professor:

 “Heel toe, crossover, heel toe, cross back. Now the same with toe heel, crossover toe heel,  and a riff can be included in a time-step…”   

We enter the TV room and OT Gary has started sit-down exercises. Following his usual greeting (he always reminds us of his name, day of the week, the date, the city we are in, and the weather), he hands out mini-fishing nets, and rubber squeak mice to play “catch the squeak toy in your net.” Toss with one hand, catch with the other. As I observe a room full of enthusiasm, including Gary, applauding one person at a time, I can’t help but imagine Gary and his small frame, wearing his usual buttoned-up white shirt, polished shoes, and face mask, gleefully rummaging through a toy store, amassing goodies.

August 8: stream of consciousness, mine and Alana’s

Fridays is “casual” day, and the staff wears Hawaiian shirts. It took me a year-and-a-half to notice. Duh!  And now I’m wondering if the times I’ve seen Alana’s brother-in-law John was on a Friday, or is Hawaiian shirts his signature look? Speaking of signature looks, this week in jazz dance class I incorporated the “Alana Signature Pose” in my choreography. Most of the class likely doesn’t know her, and no one has asked why I call it the ASP.  They just follow along and assume this is part of dance lexicon. The line is stunning, and Alana resembles a Grecian goddess when gliding into her ASP. She is often thought of as I dance.

Today is a double Hawaiian shirt day because there’s an outdoor Luau at 5 PM. Sandra, who works at Oak Knoll, asks that I come back at 5PM for the event.  However, I don’t make it. Meanwhile back at the lunch table, Alana tells me that she had to walk out of that morning’s board meeting at Center Theatre Group (where she works) due to “chaos.” A heartbeat later, she asks if Terrance is back to teaching ballet yet. (He passed away in 2003) My response is short, “not yet.” Next, we arrive to the subject of her cruise to Alaska, and with prompting, she names every city where they docked. I love digging into her pre-Studio A years, an era I don’t know much about. A moment later she describes a very tall curly-haired dog sitting next to her. I steer back to the cruise. She went with her parents. “No siblings along?” I ask.  No. In fact, she also went to Scotland/Ireland with just her parents as well.  I ask her if her siblings consider her a spoiled brat because she’s the youngest. I tell her that I am asking because I, as the youngest of four siblings, one—or perhaps a couple—of my sisters considered me to be more privileged due to my position as the youngest. Alana does not give me an answer, she just smiles. 

After lunch I escort Alana to the TV Room where Mary Poppins is on the big screen. I make it up to Dick Van Dyke’s scene in the park with the Banks children. I sneak away to head off as my very good friend is rapt in “It’s A Jolly Holiday.” Indeed it is!

Minding My Own Business (When Navigating Wonderland)

Months Ago: A thoughtful friend inquired if I ever asked Alana whether she’s aware of her dementia. My response was “No, I never asked.” Then I thought to myself,  “Do I want to know if she knows?” Complicated question, yet I have a very simple –and honest—answer: I do! But my deeper probe inquires “Why do I want to know?”  Obvious answer: Curiosity. But I’ve settled on leaving it at that, and have Alana organically reveal her state of being . . . in her own way and time, in bits and pieces -- if she so chooses.

Examples: One day in a perplexed state, she mentioned to me that the clocks always seemed off.  I responded “Yeah, time is so elusive.” And recurrently, she is unsure of the day of the week. To that, I respond, “Heck, just this morning until now, I thought it was Tuesday. It’s Wednesday!” As my daily wires sometimes get crossed, somewhere along Alana’s lifespan, her wires got soldered way wrong.

With my quick comebacks, am I evading heading into the Tulgey Wood? Hopefully, because when she senses something’s off, I promptly offer any generic perspective, and we both change course into next subject. Often, with laughs. Then I wonder if our course changed because we jumped out of the seemingly unsolvable equation, or did she simply forgot what we were just talking about (her natural order.)?T herefore, maybe in Alana’s Wonderland, simpler is better, and flow is everything.

Option 1: I could ask the following questions:

1.     Do you know where you are?

2.     Have you any idea why you are here?

3.     Do you feel confused?

4.     Do you know who I am?

I have not subscribe to this option. Instead…..

Option 2: Flowing along, I have asked the following questions:

1.     How did your hair get so curly?

2.     What is the difference between a tendú, and dégagé?

3.     What is your favorite musical? And name me five musicals with one-name titles.

4.     Do you remember the dance called “Bittersweet” that you performed in?

Analogizing: When a stage actor breaks the 4th wall, the illusion of the fictional world instantly vanishes. Poof, gone!  In my adventures with Alice/Alana, she’s not waking up from her “state”, so why not continue in the world of wonder? I always look forward to days when I jump through the looking glass, keeping my back to the 4th wall. And making the day light, easy and full of laughs

ANALYSIS OF AN ACORN

It’s Tuesday night and I get to bed late. I think about my schedule for tomorrow: water the yard at Coronado Terrace. Then to cardio class. Visit Alana, followed by a meeting with Susan at 2 PM. The rest of the day is free.  (That’s why I love my Wednesdays).

 I drift off into a night full of fantasy. In the final dream I find myself at an outdoor event in the front yard of a sprawling Toluca Lake home. The home is 1930s, white clapboard, dressed up with black shutters.  Giant sycamores with mature trunks take on shapes of winding staircases with landings ascending leisurely to the sky.  The yard, spotted with filtered sunlight is full of fancy scrolled benches where unknown, and animated guests visit.

 Just as I’m peering down the driveway to see a partial view of the lake, my eye catches Alana, wearing a perfectly tailored brown business suit, but she’s in a mad dash, hair trailing behind her, glowing like the Olympic torch. She’s running toward Gawa, who is verbally coaching her on how to run. Gawa is an incredible painter that I knew many years ago when she took classes at the studio. Just then, Alana slows her gait to say hello.  Out of breath, she squats with hands on knees, and informs me that later she's up for a commercial, “The role of a woman racing to catch a bus.” She rolls her eyes, and in a breathy whisper, she rhetorically adds “Do I look like I need coaching?”  We laugh as we walk to sit on a bench next to Jan. While Jan and Alana talk, I’m fully tuned out of the conversation, because I’m noticing Alana never looked more vibrant. Wow. I feel a sense of contentment. Then in a flash, Alana jumps up and strides down the driveway toward the lake. As we watch her, Jan comments on how amazing Alana looks, and I mention the contrast of the last time I saw her, when she could hardly walk.  Just then, we see Alana scurry by. She is carrying a giant purse over her shoulder, heading down the driveway. Not even a side glance toward us..”What the…?” I comment to Jan. Jan tells me that Valerie is picking her up, and she didn’t want to be late. Somewhat upset, I say to Jan, “She didn’t even say goodbye.” I jump up and run toward the street, only a second too late to catch the taillights of a sedan disappearing down the tree-lined avenue. 

I awake.  It is earlier than usual, but my mind is racing to recall events. I jump up, make coffee, fire up my laptop, and here I am.

Okay, Freud, take it away!

Why Toluca Lake? The community represents a serene setting in an otherwise frenetic city. I am clued into the fact this will be a dream, not a nightmare.  Phew.

Brown suit?  Easy.  The last time I saw Alana she was wearing slacks. Since I’m colorblind, I asked her the color. Her response was “acorn.” The precise description reminded me that she intuitively knew a generic answer wouldn’t cut it for me.

Why Gawa? (pronounced Gava) Ballet is an art form. Running, not as sophisticated. A fine artist telling a trained dancer how to run, seems quite ironic. Therefore, a grand dame of movement is allowed to roll her eyes at such silliness.

Why Jan? Non-judgmental is her middle name, and in this dream, I want to be sure my ballerina friend is surrounded by love.

Purse? At Oak Knoll, Alana is always worried about her lost purse. Alas, today her strapped sidekick has been found and is now displayed proudly over her right shoulder.

Disappearing act? My friend avoids any sad “goodbyes,” and allows me to wake up after observing taillights of her sister’s car transporting her safely back to Wonderland.

Update: When I visited her just a little while ago today, I described my dream, (sans Freudian analysis by Bill).  She listened intently, but little reaction. Next, I entertained the table with my famous bird calls. To that I got a reaction. In response, Alana told me about her brother-in-law John’s parrot named Sparky.  Now I ask you, isn’t a shoulder pet a lot more interesting than a bunch of has-been sycamores?

Quick Fade. Cut. New Scene

August 15, 2025

I sing out, “I had a girl, and Donna was her name…”. Before I belt line two, Donna gives me a side glance that I take as “no thank you.”  “You don’t like the song? Or is it my singing?” Head dropped, she nods “yes.” As quickly as her name inspired my delivery of the 50s tune, is the speed I’m shut down with a single gesture. I don’t take it personally. With my new acquaintance’s head still down, eyes barely opened I interject that she probably has heard that song a zillion times.  She nods “yes” again. I’m grateful to have a reaction of any kind. Then Joey asks Donna if she has any kids.  She nods. And it sounds like her response is one word; a calm delivery of “tall.”  By the sullenness of the entire table, I could see this would be a rather quiet lunch, but no worries. I had excitement in store –at least for Alana-- later!

Following the forgettable lunch, Joey and I escort Alana to Oak Knoll’s reception room. Alana is always compliant to my suggestions, and I am certain she has no idea of our destination until we arrive.   As we snail-pace it down the hallway,--I’m pushing her in a wheelchair (unsteady legs today)-- I say hello to a few residents by name.  Not that I know a lot of names, but I try to recite the ones I do know. In this micro-society everyone has something to contribute, and all benefit from interaction, so I keep at it. Thinking back to one of my early visits, I encountered a seemingly angry woman pawing at my back, and I jumped back, quite upset.

 I am happy to report that I have evolved. 

 Nothing is as it seems here in Wonderland, and memories fade as quickly as rainbows evaporate. The March Hare may seem agitated one moment, but gleefully waltzing the next.  The predictable dance here at memory care sways like this: Moments of friction vanish in a wink of an eye, followed by an inquisitive “Now, where was I?”

After our trio is seated, we decide the living room needs to be re-named “lobby.” I inform Alana that I have a surprise. I open my shoulder bag and pull out my laptop. She’s curious. I spent the last couple of days editing down some historic footage (1990s) of Alana dancing at the studio. Moments later I fire up imovie. As the glow of familiar dancers appear, caregiver Sandra enters, pushing a lady in a wheelchair. Whenever Sandra walks into a room, she stops to say hello. I invite her to watch videos of Alana. On this particular playlist is approximately six dances in a span of five or so years.   Enthusiastic audience member Sandra squatting behind Alana with hands on my dancer friend’s shoulders exclaims “Oh Alana, look at you!” followed by applause, and a big beam of a smile.  

Once again, Wonderland did not disappoint.