At 75, cognitive decline no longer seems like some scary thing that could happen to other people. It could happen to me. Although that frightens me, I feel I must face the possibility head-on. Especially as a multimedia artist and performer, continuing to spark my creativity feels essential to who I am. I want to know that even in the depths of cognitive decline, that creative part of me might still be accessed. One of my greatest fears is the isolation that can come with it — not being able to fully connect with the people around me. That isolation can be profound, and profoundly exhausting for caregivers as well.

So when my friend Tania Barricklo, Program Coordinator at The Good Company Club, located at Phoenicia United Methodist Church, invited me to volunteer and lead a workshop for older adults experiencing cognitive decline, I said yes.

I was nervous. Would people experiencing significant cognitive decline respond to what I had to offer?

I had experienced that fear before. Back in 1982, I spent six weeks assisting the workshop leader during an arts residency with women incarcerated at the Federal Prison Camp, Alderson (FPC Alderson) in West Virginia. I worked and performed with the women, terrified at first that I wouldn’t know how to reach them. Because of our multifaceted approach and the deep connections we made, the residency became one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. Marie, one of the women who participated, later wrote, “This workshop has meant my freedom. I discovered the grave I had dug for myself so prematurely and uncovered a still-warm, breathing life that had been laid to rest unfulfilled … I find I can move again more like an animal in nature, rather than a steel ball in a pinball machine.”

More than four decades later, I brought that experience — and a lifetime of leading workshops using drumming, storytelling, movement, voice and play — with me to Phoenicia, ready to improvise and respond to whatever happened in the room.

At that first workshop, some participants arrived disoriented or withdrawn, barely communicating. As the workshop progressed, with supportive caregivers, volunteers and staff joining us in the circle, people began coming out of their shells. Hands began striking drums; voices joined in; bodies moved; laughter broke out. By the end, everyone was participating. It was magical!

I walked out floating on cloud nine. What I had spent a lifetime developing as an artist had reached people I feared might be unreachable. Inspired, I spent the next six weeks writing a proposal for an Arts Mid-Hudson Arts Learning Grant.

The result was Creative Rhythm, Story, Voice, and Movement Workshops for Older Adults Experiencing Cognitive Decline, offered through Good Company Club in Phoenicia and Pine Hill and the Social Club at the HUB in Kingston.

“We’re gonna do whatever I think might be fun from one minute to the next: drumming and percussion, singing, moving, laughing, stretching, storytelling.”

That’s how I began a recent Social Club workshop. I have a structure, but improvisation is central. I follow the group’s energy.

The Social Club at the HUB is an outgrowth of the REST program coordinated by Judith Bromley, MS, RN, a consultant for the Office of the Aging & Jewish Family Services. The program helps create dementia-friendly communities through free education and social connection via the Social Club model that brings together local artists, musicians, restaurateurs and volunteers for weekly gatherings tailored to local needs.

I weave drumming, story, voice and movement together. Someone's small hand gesture, exaggerated, becomes a movement the whole circle copies. A sound becomes a rhythm or a song. Combined, these spontaneous offerings become a group dance.

The Rev. Ralph A. Merante of Phoenicia United Methodist Church, the Phoenicia Good Company fiscal sponsor, joined one workshop and summed it up exuberantly: “Drumming, story, music, movement, community, laughter, fun, neuroplasticity — yup all that and more!”

Judith Bromley, MS, RN, described what she saw this way: “We have a lot of people that have a great deal of difficulty following along with cognitive tasks … This gets everybody engaged and they have fun. People who are pretty reticent to get involved actually end up getting involved.”

That transformation is one of the things I watch for as I work. I’m constantly looking around the circle — seeing who is engaged, who is hanging back, and what I can pull out of my toolbag to invite someone in.

Judy, MS, PT, a former physical therapist and dancer, was struck by the multisensory, affirming atmosphere. Rather than feeling they were there because something was “wrong” with them, she said, “everyone was just joyfully contributing.”

Susan Koppenhaver, Director of the Ulster County Office for the Aging, saw something similar: “Even the most withdrawn there had a smile on their face and contributed to the group!”

Patricia Ruane, President of Catskill Neighbors, Inc., a Good Company Club partner, wrote that I included even the shyest and most reluctant participants. She was particularly struck by an exercise in which each person said their name and played a unique rhythm on a drum — a powerful statement, she said, of “Here I am!” The circle responded by repeating the person’s name and rhythm. Even a non-verbal member participated, her contribution witnessed and valued by the group.

Research supports several elements of the approach I use in my workshops. Studies have found that active engagement with music may support cognition and memory, while group singing can foster well-being and social engagement. The World Health Organization has also reported benefits of arts participation, particularly music, for people living with dementia.

That is fundamental to my approach. I pay close attention to each person’s offering while balancing the needs and energy of the whole group. A sound, gesture, drumbeat or unexpected response can become something we all build upon. Judy described it this way: “There was nothing wrong or too little or too big. It was like, ‘Oh, this is interesting, let’s all do this. Let’s all participate with this.’”

That kind of acceptance can help people emerge. “People see that you respect and enjoy them for who they are,” Judy said. “And then they come out more.”

I see that happen repeatedly: people who initially seem indifferent or disconnected become aware of one another and what is happening in the room.

Pastor Ralph saw it when a participant who did not create her own drum cadence enthusiastically offered her name. The circle proclaimed it back with a happy beat, again and again, as her face became, in his words, “beatific.” He watched others begin hesitantly and then join “with gusto.” His description: “Adults at play.”

The singing throughout the workshop centered on Mother Earth, with drums and movement woven through the songs. One memorable sequence began with a heartbeat.

“When was the first time you heard a heartbeat?” I asked.

The answer: before birth, hearing our mother’s heartbeat — the first rhythm each of us had ever heard. We found that pulse together.

From there, I invited each person to “sing” their name and create a rhythm on their drum. One by one, names were sung and drums answered as each offering traveled around the circle.

Toward the end of the exercise, Good Company Club participant Roger offered his name with gusto — singing it out with a broad, assertive gesture and accompanying himself on his drum. His exuberance sparked an eruption of energy and laughter from the group. Reflecting afterward, he said he felt like a salesman.

“I really felt like I got to say something,” Roger said, “which felt like it really flowed out of my heart.”

The need is growing. By 2030, roughly one in five Americans is projected to be of retirement age. An estimated 7.4 million Americans age 65 and older are living with Alzheimer’s dementia in 2026 — about one in nine people 65 and older.

I hope these workshops are just the beginning. I want to bring the program to more senior centers, memory-care programs, assisted-living communities — and eventually create intergenerational workshops bringing youth and older adults together.

The days when extended families regularly sat together on the front porch have mostly passed. I’d love to create new opportunities for generations to meet through drumming, rhythm, story, movement and play.

I still fear cognitive decline. But these workshops have shown me that even if I descend into those frightening depths, something of my essence — of who I am — may still be there, waiting to be reached. I hope there will be someone like me there, someone who knows how to reach that part of me and help it come alive.

Perhaps the moment that stays with me most happened at another Good Company Club session in Pine Hill. Afterward, Roger approached me to tell me how much he had enjoyed himself. I asked how he felt. His face lit up, beaming with a huge smile.

“I am ALIVE!” he proclaimed.

I was deeply moved. When I see someone become more present, expressive and connected, I feel incredibly alive, too.

For an hour, people contending with memory loss, isolation or cognitive change are not defined by what they have lost. Instead, we share what we’ve found: creativity, connection and joy — an opportunity to be witnessed and valued, and to say, in whatever way each person can:

“Here I am.” “I am ALIVE!”

About Zelda

Zelda aka Judith Z. Miller is a Queer Kingston-based multimedia firecracker: storyteller, visual artist, percussionist, healer, mover, workshop leader and producer whose bold, true stories spark laughter, deep recognition, solidarity and courage for turbulent times. Over decades, she has created, led and co-led arts-based workshops in a wide range of settings — from an online workshop through Voices Unveiled with women in Afghanistan, to serving as assistant to the workshop leader during a six-week arts residency with women incarcerated at the Federal Prison Camp, Alderson (FPC Alderson) in West Virginia, an experience she later co-wrote about for The Washington Post, to programs with the Brooklyn Arts Council, and now with older adults experiencing cognitive decline in New York’s Hudson Valley. Zelda lives at the Lace Mill artist residence with her Great Dane, Mademoiselle ZaZelle, where she serves as President of the Lace Mill Arts Council. Her multimedia solo show, "Que Será, Será: A Life’s Journey of Sexual Orientation & Gender Expression," developed with support from two Arts Mid-Hudson grants, streams at QueSeraSeraShow.com. Connect with Zelda on Facebook and Instagram @ArtistSoulSpeaks.

For more information about how to begin to grow a dementia-friendly community and start a Social Club in your area, contact Judith: judithbromley417@gmail.com