For my next act …

  • Jun 15, 2018
  • 0

My divorce wasn’t expected … or wanted. I sold my ad agency with the dream of a country life with gardens and grandchildren, travel and tranquility. That ended when his unhappiness became too much for me to endure.


At my age, this is the last place I thought I would be. But life had her own ideas, and spit me out in a new direction. Rather than live in beautiful isolation, I moved to Philadelphia for a solitary adventure. It’s a far cry from rural Missouri where the nearest neighbor is a mile down a gravel road.


I decided I still had more to offer in my field of advertising. While freelance writing and voice work keep me busy enough, finding a full-time job is, well, a full-time job! There’s a constant stream of email from a myriad of staffing services, all mainly a regurgitation of the same positions. I send my resume, talk to staffing folks who are younger than my daughter and think, “I ran my own agency longer than you have been alive. You want me! You need me!” I’ve been advised to be patient. A friend landed his dream job after a year of searching. A year!?


I’m a long way from cornfields and cattle. Philadelphia is a jumble of streets, roads, pikes, expressways, avenues, and lanes that only Google Maps can steer me through. But every turn takes me to another remarkable place. Eventually, I will arrive at the right spot where I can once again participate in the exciting, exhilarating, frustrating, creative problem solving process that was my life for over 30 years. Because you’re only a failure if you don’t try.


Stay tuned for my next act.


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