More To Come

Your second act will be incredible.

If there's a second act, I must be in it. I count my first act as the productive years of earning income to support my family and save for retirement.

Forty-seven years ago, I started earning money as a babysitter. Some might say a 12-year-old is too young to work. My friend, at age 10, watched her three younger brothers, one of whom was an infant, on Saturday nights. Her parents were party animals who came home late to find all four children tucked in and sound asleep.

It was a different time.

My husband purports to have been washing dishes at his father's diner at age 7.

His sister calls this historical fiction.

If I count back to include my teenage years, I have had about 16 jobs. I've also held stints of self-employment and one unusual job working in a funeral home.

But none of the ways I earned money was fulfilling. Or exciting.

What about an outlet for creativity, you say? Fahgettaboudit!

That wasn't a thing.

Work was a means to an end. My parents encouraged this viewpoint.

My parents had an eighth-grade education when they arrived in the United States. My dad remembers periods of starvation during the war in Germany. Growing up on a farm, my mom recalls a bomb barely missing their house.

After boot camp in the Oklahoma, my dad considered himself privileged to join the Philadelphia District Council 21 Painter's Union. He spent 35 years in industrial painting. On weekends, he moonlighted and painted for neighbors and local businesses.

As I enrolled in high school, my mom entered the job market. After a series of low-paying jobs, she discovered a better option. A wealthy family took her on as a housekeeper.

They thought my mom was a dream come true. She stayed working for them for fifteen years until she retired.

When it came to career advice, my parents didn't care what type of job I got, as long as I did something.

If it's a "good" job, who cares what you do? My father was proud to say he would do any job, even sweeping the streets. When I landed a position with the government, they thought I’d made it.

I didn't know if the job I landed was good. How would I know? I had no other role models to guide me.

I liked the idea of a real job, though. I was no longer beholden to the advice of a painter and a housekeeper.

Having landed my first actual career position, I wanted to make money.

I climbed up the ladder, rung by rung.

Disillusionment came as a surprise. No one had told me about this.

Working was a drag. Was this all there was?

Imagining my father with a broom, I knew I should be grateful.

I sought work with meaning without sacrificing too much pay. I suffered through toxic work environments, glass ceilings, and crappy bosses. I had done what I was expected to do.

The career ladder was abandoned when I started teaching yoga and writing. Being married to my generous and loving husband allowed me the freedom to try something new.

My children are in the workplace now supporting themselves. They've uncovered the dissatisfaction I once had.

I don't know if I did the right thing leading them here. Shouldn’t there be something more fulfilling than toiling for decades for the man?

Like my parents before me, it's all I knew to do.

But here I am now writing this. Where are you?

Have you completed your first act? Or are you grasping the ladder, disillusioned?

I want you to know something I found out: your creativity is still there. You might have forgotten, but it never left.

You can't help but create. It’s your nature. While you were working at all those jobs, you’ve been creating for someone else.

There’s more where that came from.

I see what I am now- both creator and creation. I'm coming back to myself now. It's not too late for you, too.

If you need some inspiration, here are women who created later in life:

• Vera Wang

• Julia Child

• Nina Zagat

• Viola Davis

• Toni Morrison

• Lucille Ball

• YOU!!!!

“What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” ~ Mary Oliver