Ida Schwartz: A zest for life kept her dancing at every chance

In her younger years Schwartz was a nurse's aide. She understood the loss of bodily control one experienced at the moment of death. She didn't want to bother her neighbors, and she didn't want to leave a mess for her family, so she covered the sofa with a sheet of plastic. She brushed her hair, applied fresh lipstick, lay down on the plastic with her arms folded across her chest, closed her eyes and waited for death.

The problem was, death was taking too long and Schwartz started feeling better.

It was a mini-stroke that blurred her vision and made her weak, but the symptoms were passing. After a while she could see well enough to note the time on her living-room clock. That's when Schwartz realized she could still get to the Cactus Moon bar in time for the dinner buffet and line dancing lessons. So she got up from the sofa and headed to boot, scoot and boogie.

That was a decade ago, and it was how Schwartz lived all of her 91 years — with pragmatism, style and vivacity — until dying in her sleep May 10. Friends, family, Red Hat Society ladies and congregants will fete Schwartz at 11 a.m. today at Grace Evangelical Lutheran Church, 830 N. First Ave.

"She thoroughly enjoyed her life most of the time," said a friend of more than 75 years, Frances Kuske, 93. The pair graduated from a Milwaukee high school together in 1932, stayed in touch and both retired to Tucson with their husbands in the early 1980s.

The couples spent a number of years taking car trips together across the United States, Mexico and Canada. From their years of travel, Schwartz created 74 well-organized photo albums of memories.

Friends and family members said Schwartz loved to dance. It's part of the reason she married her husband and high school sweetheart, Walter.

"She married our father because he could dance," said Schwartz's daughter, Sue Simon.

Even in high school, Schwartz loved to dance.

"She was learning to tap-dance," Kuske said. "She imagined herself going on stage in New York to dance. She was always involved in theatrics. She was a lot of fun."

Schwartz's son, Paul, a retired U.S. Army major general, remembers visiting Tucson and seeing his mom strutting her stuff in public with the Hot Flashes, a tap-dance troupe for senior women that performed in parades and at special events.

"I saw her tap-dancing down the avenue in a spangled outfit," he said.

Ida and her husband enjoyed all kinds of dancing — whether it was square, line, round or tap — until Walter's death in 1991. Ida continued dancing, but it wasn't as easy without a partner, Kuske said.

It may have been Schwartz's zeal for dance that caused her to need two double hip replacement surgeries, but the pain didn't slow her down, said friend Gert Kuchta, 84.

"She was on the go all the time even though she was in pain," Kuchta said. "She'd say, 'What can you do about it but keep on going.'

"She did anything and everything. I don't know where she got the energy. It wore me out, all the things she'd been doing," Kuchta said. "She brought me out of a lot of funky moods. She was older than I and I thought, 'If she could do it, I could do it.' "

Schwartz and Kuchta were members of the Armory Park Sexy Seniors chapter of the Red Hat Society, but Schwartz wouldn't merely don scarlet chapeau for meetings.

"She looked like a chorus girl — boa, hat, lace gloves, jewelry," Kuchta said.

Schwartz's flamboyant style didn't end with the Red Hat meetings. The mother of three was an avid seamstress — a skill she honed during the Great Depression as a way to keep her children clothed.

One of Schwartz's more recent projects: matching steering-wheel and seat-cushion covers for her car made from white faux fur.

Schwartz took any occasion to have fun.

"She didn't want to be around people who were downers," Kuchta said.

Each Halloween, Schwartz would put on a black leotard, tail, whiskers and a headband with ears attached and go out as a black cat, Kuchta said. Two years ago, she dressed in ethnic garb to attend Octoberfest.

"She had a full German outfit doing the chicken dance, getting everybody out there doing the chicken dance," Kuchta said. "I know she was in pain doing it because of her hips.

"She was a constant mover. There was no stopping her," Kuchta said. "Others would get in a wheelchair and say, 'Woe is me.' Not her. She was very independent and that's what I liked about her."

Life stories

On StarNet: Find a photo gallery of this Life Story at azstarnet.com/slideshows

Life Stories

This feature chronicles the lives of recently deceased Tucsonans. Some were well-known across the community. Others had an impact on a smaller sphere of friends, family and acquaintances. Many of these people led interesting — and sometimes extraordinary — lives with little or no fanfare. Now you'll hear their stories. Past "Life Stories" are online at go.azstarnet.com/lifestories