Airplanes, Exercise Mats and Classes
By Gina Lavine (Senior Wellness Coordinator for CASE)
I grew up in a house where responsibility arrived early and meals sometimes arrived late. My mother — divorced, raising four kids, and working multiple jobs....taught me so many life lessons — She showed me that survival often meant balancing schedules, working hard, making ends meet and just being there for your kids.
Divorced, with four kids, and working endless jobs — she held our family together with grit, and more importantly, with humour. She could find laughter in the middle of heartbreak, like when she lost my brother to suicide, or later when she was sick with cancer. Even then, she was still wonderful to be around, reminding us that joy is not something you stumble upon — it’s something you choose.
One of my favourite stories that sums up her spirit happened at a so-called “stupid pet contest.” My mom was on stage with our dog, Dacquiri, who had a talent for basketball. The plan was simple: he’d show off his skills, sink a basket or two, and charm the crowd. Of course there was a great prize at the end: A shopping spree at a pet store! However, Dacquiri spotted another dog and dashed off the stage to mate, leaving my mom laughing so hard she could barely stand up. The audience roared, the news picked up the clip, and Dacquiri was suddenly famous—not for his ball handling, but for his, well, other talents. My mom did not win the grand prize ..but for her, the joy of the moment mattered more than the plan.
That’s the kind of humour I grew up with. It shaped how I live my own life — as a teacher, a fitness instructor, and now working with seniors. I learned from her that life is rarely tidy. It’s messy, unpredictable, and often heartbreaking — but it’s also hilarious if you let it be. So I try to carry that with me, whether I’m in a classroom, leading a fitness class, or running a book club. My mom gave me the gift of finding light in the dark, and of never forgetting to laugh — even when the dog runs off stage.
This upbringing meant learning independence the hard way. Laundry didn’t fold itself, lunches didn’t magically appear, and “because I said so” was usually spoken by a babysitter. But I also absorbed my mother’s fierce work ethic. Watching her juggle jobs gave me an unshakable belief: Life doesn’t hand you balance — you stretch, wobble, and sometimes laugh your way toward it.
So I grew up to wear many hats. I became a teacher, the kind who could make grammar somewhat interesting with a side of humor. I became a fitness instructor with Viactive, getting even reluctant seniors to move (sometimes with the promise of coffee or cookies after class). And I became a community builder, working with seniors not just as “participants,” but as friends, storytellers, and co-conspirators in keeping life joyful.
My mom’s example of hard work shaped me into someone who doesn’t just clock in and clock out. I try to show up with energy, laughter, and that quiet reminder that everyone, no matter their age, deserves connection.
I certainly inherited my mom’s same spirit: keep moving, keep showing up, and if life gets bumpy — well, that’s just turbulence. Fasten your seatbelt, and maybe laugh a little while you ride it out.
