At the Hug Wall: Tuscan Gardens Senior Living creates pandemic protocols

On July 30, Judy and Chick Horwitz hugged for the first time since March.

By Brian McMillan
| 7:20 a.m. August 2, 2020

Chick and Judy Horwitz. Photos by Brian McMillan

Charles "Chick" Horwitz, a resident at Tuscan Gardens, shares a kiss through the plastic with his wife, Judy. Photos by Brian McMillan

The wall has four gloves, designed by Dani Gomez. The station takes 30 minutes to clean in between hug sessions. Photos by Brian McMillan

Judy and Chick Horwitz, on New Year's Eve, 2019. Courtesy photo

Yellow sandblasting gloves are affixed to the plastic sheeting by using toilet flanges. The pink gloves are Breeders Sleeves, usually used in calfing.

Judy Horwitz and Community Relations Manager Kristina Stasko

Tuscan staff: Community Relations Manager Kristina Stasko, Director of Environmental Services Dani Gomez, Executive Director Nancy Meredith and Director of Clinical Services Jennifer Rogers.

Tuscan Gardens Senior Living, on Colbert Lane.

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Judy Horwitz was waiting on a couch in a well-lit corridor when her husband of 56 years got off the elevator. She was ready to give him a big hug for the first time in three months, but first they both had to go through some pandemic protocols.

Charles “Chick” Horwitz lives in the memory care wing of Tuscan Gardens Senior Living, off Colbert Lane in Palm Coast; Judy lives in their Palm Coast home, where they spent the past 19 years together after retiring from Maryland.

With Program Director Sara Meinking’s help, Chick got prepared on one side of a clear plastic wall, while Judy did the same on the opposite side, on the morning of July 30.

The wall consisted of two panels, one made of plexiglass, the other a 10-millimeter-thick plastic sheet that is normally used as a table liner. Four arm holes had been cut in the plastic sheet and sealed with toilet flanges, explained Dani Gomez, Tuscan Gardens’ director of environmental services, who constructed the “Hug Wall.” Arm-length rubber gloves (sand-blasting gloves, Gomez said) were affixed to the flanges.

Gomez had thought through the mechanics of hugging to make the wall ergonomic; the holes were offset so that the right glove can go over the left shoulder of the person who is being hugged, and the left glove is lower so that it can go under the right arm.

“It doesn’t feel right to have two gloves up here,” Gomez said, holding his arms straight out, “because you hug at an angle.”

But before Judy and Chick put their arms in the rubber gloves in the Hug Wall, they also put on disposable arm-length plastic gloves — called “Breeder Sleeves” because they are used by cattle breeders in calf deliveries.

That detail made Judy laugh.

Is the apparatus creepy? I asked.

“Unless you’re here experiencing it on their side,” Gomez said.

Judy agreed. “When you’re not able to touch your husband since the end of March, this is wonderful,” she said. “The people who think it’s crazy don’t have a loved one they can’t touch.”

Judy and Chick stepped closer together, their faces inches apart, the arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders.

“Thank you for shaving,” Judy said with a smile. “You had a little fall yesterday, but you’re OK, right?”

Chick smiled.

Their lips met on opposite sides of the plastic liner. They slow danced. They kissed again.

Then Chick’s nose started to itch, so Judy scratched it for him with the rubber glove.

author

Brian McMillan

Brian McMillan and his wife, Hailey, bought the Observer in 2023. Before taking on his role as publisher, Brian was the editor from 2010 to 2022, winning numerous awards for his column writing, photography and journalism, from the Florida Press Association.