Taut abs and rippling muscles aren't exactly the stuff grandmothers are known for. But then again neither are marathons and cell phones that play the theme to "Rocky."

At 73, Ernestine Shepherd is in better shape than most people decades her junior. Up at 3 a.m. every morning, she spends her days running, lifting weights and working out other senior citizens at the Union Memorial United Methodist Church in Baltimore. She also works as a certified personal trainer at her gym.

"I feel better than I did at 40," she said. "I am very, very happy."

In less than 20 years, Shepherd has morphed from a "prissy" woman who never exercised to the Guinness Book of World Records' oldest female bodybuilder.

Before lunch was brought out to the 38 elderly women seated in the dining room of Fulford Residence on downtown Guy St., employee Sandra Glover rang a little bell in her hand to get everyone's attention.

"Good afternoon, ladies," she said. "I will just remind you that the pub crawl today begins at 2 p.m."

Montreal is a city with a rich, colourful history when it comes to clubbing. But nothing quite matches the semi-annual pub crawl of the women of Fulford nursing home, under the careful chaperone of the Montreal police force.

Sure enough, just as Glover had said, a Montreal police paddy wagon pulled up in front of Fulford shortly before 2 o'clock on Tuesday afternoon. The weather outside was terrible. A late spring snow shower was falling.

But that didn't deter some of the women of Fulford - like 95-year-old Hester Kerr.

"Mrs. Kerr says she wants to go," nurse Celi Glover whispered into managing director Donna Girard's ear.

"But she's in a wheelchair," Girard said.

"Well, she says she's going to walk today," nurse Glover said.

Out of the paddy wagon came Constable Eric Charbonneau and his partner, Constable Bruno Delli Colli. Handsome men, they looked like they had come out of GQ magazine, too.

Charbonneau put his arm around Kerr and helped her down a ramp into the paddy wagon. The two officers worked with Fulford employee Marie-Anne James and four Fulford volunteers to escort another seven women into the paddy wagon.

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By David Johnston
The Montreal Gazette
Photo Credit:
Phil Carpenter, Montreal Gazette

“I try to forget my past,” Bui My Hanh whispers. “But I can’t forget the night my daughter passed away in my arms. I wish I could have exchanged my life with hers. But God did not allow me to do that…”

Three months after she lost five-year-old daughter, Bui My’s husband also died, just as her little girl had, of AIDS.

According to Avert.org (a UK-based international working to avert HIV and AIDS worldwide), the number of HIV/AIDS cases in Vietman more than doubled to 260,000 from 120,000 between 2000 and 2005.

Bui My’s husband and daughter were amongst the swelling tide of victims. But Bui My’s touching story, one of three artfully told in the compelling documentary A Powerful Noise, is as inspirational as it is tragic. (See the trailer and buy the movie from Amazon at the links below.)

In a country where HIV/AIDS is regarded as a social evil due to its connection to drug use and prostitution, blameless individuals such as Bui My suffer discrimination from their families and society.