My Black is NOT Cracking.

“What advice would do you give to people starting their “second, third, or fourth act” in their lives or careers?
First and foremost, NEVER think that it’s too late or that you’re too old. I love to tell people that I started SoulCycle when I was 48 years old and Flywheel when I was 52. I usually get gasps from the audience! People love to hear that and it gives them hope. The old adage is true. When we get older, we get wiser and have a wide array of experiences from which we learn. All of these learnings contribute to our next venture.”

I lifted (cut and pasted) that little that gem from a profile on Ruth Zukerman in The Ageist (highly recommend, by the way). It’s a publication that celebrates people living bold, creative, fulfilling lives in midlife and beyond. And honestly? It’s inspiring to see proof that we’re not “done” just because society sometimes says we should be.

Since leaving TV production, I’ve been asking myself the same big question: Now what? What do you do when the 60–70-hour work weeks you had grown accustomed to, end? At first, I did all the things I never had the time or energy to do, like unpacking boxes from a move several years prior, purging closets, cleaning, organizing… basically starring in my own episode of Extreme Makeover: The Money Pit Edition. Oh, and also figuring out how to live without that steady paycheck and those much needed benefits!

In the midst of that chaos, I realized I could barely remember what many of my own goals and dreams were. They’d been simmering on the back burner so long, they’d practically evaporated.

Now! Catch-22!  Without that check, could I even afford to pursue them? I poured myself into the foundation we set up honoring my granddaughter’s legacy. But while fulfilling, this wasn’t going to satisfy my desire to create.  While it does take creativity to build and sustain an organization, I needed more.  I still do. 

I’ve spent years championing other creatives’ visions, managing their businesses, crunching their numbers, cheerleading their talent. And while that’s meaningful, I couldn’t shake the question. What about mine?

Maybe I’d waited too long. Maybe it really was too late. Was my “purpose” just to pay bills and babysit unhinged tenants? (If you’ve ever been a landlord, you know that’s not exactly soul work.) Surely my life wasn’t meant to be just about making everyone else shine while I sat in the wings, dimming my own light.

I want to believe that if you woke up, it’s not too late.  Period. You still get a say in how your story goes. Yes, the chapters you’ve already written are done, however messy, brilliant, heartbreaking, and hilarious; they’re inked. But your book isn’t finished. You get to decide how the next chapter reads, and maybe, just maybe, the best chapters are still ahead.

Recently, I found myself watching reruns of sex and the city for the 100th time. I called it research for my next play, but I was also reminiscing a bit about my younger days and some of the fun my girls and I used to have in the city. Not the kind of fun these girls were having, but fun. (There was a version of Samantha in the crew! Wasn’t me! And that’s all I have to say on that one!)

For years my husband and I had an apartment in Manhattan and a house in the woods. He needed to be there a lot for work, and one year I just added up the hotel bills and it just made more sense to get an apartment.  It would be much more convenient, but to be quite honest I’ve used it more than he did. Although he had lived in Brooklyn for many years and grew up in the city, the woods had spoiled him and the noise at night made it impossible for him to sleep. Didn’t bother me a bit at the time. I would split my week between New York City and Valley Forge PA. The best of both worlds. I found being in the city inspiring. I always met interesting folks and for a time, I was in culinary school and no shortage of amazing culinary experiences there!  We gave up the apartment so I could have my dream kitchen.  Geez. I miss that NYC energy and that kitchen!

So anyway, in the opening credits, I noticed the name Ollie Levy. I remembered meeting her.  It’s not like that is a name that you hear often. I sat next to her on a flight to Los Angeles many years ago. After our conversation, I remembered my high school English telling me I was going to be a writer on day.  She didn’t say a good one, now that I think about it.  It sure looked like fun!

Ms. Levy got my attention because she was typing on her laptop computer and laughing out loud. My first thought was, “Uh oh. Someone forgot their meds this morning. She was in her own humorous world. 

I don’t remember what I said to her or how we started talking, but during our conversation, she shared with me that she was a writer and that she wrote for sex in the city. Which I thought was super exciting. I could not believe that I was meeting someone that actually worked on something that I watched and enjoyed. I was fascinated. I think I would have been less excited to meet Carrie Bradshaw herself! 

I thought to myself as she typed and laughed out loud, “What an amazing job that must be. To get paid to laugh; to get paid to make other people laugh, and to make a living using your imagination.”

It brought me back to my childhood where I used to write stories all the time. I remember writing a story about a horse named Winnipeg. I had never seen a horse, but I wrote this story about this girl and this horse. I had quite the imagination. 

Later, I would end up writing some essays. One or two earned me some local awards and a couple of savings bonds. I’m sure I wrote about this in a previous post, but in my Miss Fire Prevention essay I wrote about my trauma as a result of sharing a bed with my mother who routinely smoked in bed and my fear of burning up in my sleep. How was that for sweet dreams? Now that I think about it, she had to be both proud and horrified when I won! As a result of that fear, I learned that I needed to stay awake until she was asleep so that I could put her cigarette out and actually wake up the next day without third degree burns! (I have hated cigarettes ever since.)

That essay won me a ride on the back of the firetruck in the Halloween parade! Embarrassing. AND many years of difficulty sleeping. Not to brag, but I think that might’ve been the same year that my monster mash poster from art class might’ve also won an award! 

Anyway, seeing her name in the credits took me back to that flight. Back when I flew United or maybe it was US air before they became American. Back to that little girl who loved to write and tell stories. (Fiction ya’ll. Not lies.)

I’m still dreaming of seeing my name in the credits of a TV show or film, and not as a coordinator, but as a writer. I would be equally happy to see it on a theater marquee. So, I guess I’m not done dreaming yet and still using my imagination. I am not sure what is next. I guess I have some more chapters to write, and hopefully a happy ending.

“Without leaps of imagination, or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning.”~Gloria Steinem