Don’t laugh, but during the 2020 pandemic shutdown, I started doing something I loved as a kid: Tap Dancing. In my basement. By myself. Want to hear something even funnier? I’m fifty-four years old. Pick yourself off the floor, okay? Granted, I’m not what you might picture a woman of a half-century looks like. I’m fit and healthy and always seeking new adventure and things that make me smile. Part of why I remain mentally and physically young comes down to self-care. I fuel my body with what it needs and completely avoid what it does not. Every single day, I move, stretch, walk, breathe, soak in the sun, contemplate, meditate, evaluate. By doing this, I am sharper throughout the day and ultimately, happier because I truly understand who I am and how to make myself happy. When everything else takes priority in life, and self-care gets eroded away, depression sets in along with a sense of uselessness, a “what’s the point” attitude. The point in life is joy—something I wish I would have better understood in my twenties. Joy comes from making sure the physical and mental part of yourself stay strong and healthy and vibrant. Just because I might be considered “past my prime” I refuse to stop growing and refining the person I am. It’s why I’m going back to school at my age, to rectify my greatest regret. I can do this because self-care has always been upmost in my life. Part of that manifests in walking away from things that bring unhappiness, and replacing them with things that bring joy. Like tap-dancing in a basement while the world is falling apart.

“In order to make big change, you have to take a big leap. It’s scary, especially when you’ve had security and a rewarding career for twenty-four years…” That was the opening line of a blog post I made to announce my decision to leave NBC after a successful career in photojournalism. While the job took me around the world and introduced me to people of all walks of life, the news philosophy had shifted and our stories became less about informing and more about sensation. The business no longer fit who I was. I’d spent my life in pursuit of happiness, positivity, and kindness. I didn’t want to become jaded and bitter like so many of my colleagues. So I walked away. Two years after making that decision, I’ve continued to be a student of growth. I moved to a different state, opened a business, and now, at the age of fifty-four, have gone back to school to rectify my greatest regret: dropping out of college. Thirty years ago, I let finances get in the way of my scholastic goals and I refuse to let that happen again. Plus, I’m not ready to let go of expanding my frame of thinking, or learning something new. That’s how people age. Giving up. Life is too grand to not explore. Ultimately, discomfort encourages growth and evolution. Am I nervous about going back to school at my age? Of course. But I never want to let go of that love of learning and moving forward in life. I will do that until the day I die. A person is never too old to reinvent themselves.

In 2018, I left my career as an Emmy-awarding Los Angeles-based photojournalist to escape the pain associated with covering news. I opened a Mercantile in the small town where I'd moved and--of course--had to lock the doors a couple of months after opening due to a worldwide pandemic. Instead of getting defeated, I re-evaluated. The store's initial focus was on tourists, but after the shutdown, shifted to the locals. I found specialty foods, put together recipes, and sent out a weekly email--a way to engage with the community and combat people's boredom. Just like the old days, we did home delivery of glass-bottled milk from a local dairy along with food--a far cry from our initial model of selling t-shirts to out-of-towners. We encouraged people to share photos of what they created in the kitchen. Not only did it get people cooking, it got people interacting in an extremely positive way. The successful endeavor encouraged me to take my skills to the next level, so I applied to the University of Arizona Design Arts & Practices program. At fifty-four years old, I am rectifying my greatest regret: not finishing school--something that may never have come about without the pandemic.

Lately, a quote from one of my favorite authors, Ayn Rand, has been spinning around my head: "Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but never have been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible." I believe in possibilities. Like your mother, I'm returning to school later in life, although for me it’s to rectify my greatest regret: not finishing my education. Thanks to online opportunities, I can--at 54-years-old--finish what I started 35 years ago. While the University of Arizona doesn’t offer a major in creative writing, they do offer a minor, so I am enrolled in the Design Arts & Practices major with a minor in creative writing. I spent my career as an Emmy-award-winning television photojournalist. While the work took me around the world and introduced me to people of all walks of life, many aspects went against my true self. I believe in spreading joy, not pain, and sadly our coverage had turned primarily toward the horrific. When the weight of our coverage became too much, I found my escape in writing fiction. At twelve years old, I tapped out my first “novel” on an old Brother typewriter, a fifteen-page masterpiece full of purple prose. Over the years, I’ve written seven young adult novels (self-published one) and am currently represented by literary agent Mary C. Moore of the Kimberley Cameron agency. My novels focus on living life to the fullest in hopes of inspiring young women to go after everything they want in life, even if not typical (my stories often include classic cars and motorcycles). I googled your mother’s name and read about Zena’s Dream on Digital Journal. The words made me smile because I too believe in finding joy through pursuing dreams. In 2018, I walked away from my twenty-four-year career because the balance of negative stories far outweighed the positive. Leaving the salary and benefits terrified me, but in order to fulfill my dreams and live my true self, I had to make a bold move. My goal in returning to school is to--not only erase the disappointment of having to quit due to finances so many years ago--but to take my writing to the next level. Over the years, I’ve gotten close to traditional publishing, but something in my writing fails to put editors over the edge. I’m now at a point in life where I can take time to truly learn the craft and incorporate elements of the exciting life I have led thus far, full of adventure and opportunity. I am a storyteller. I want to share my stories. And I want to share them well. Taking cues from your mother’s Zena and from Ayn Rand’s words, all that is desired can be won. You can dance in the forest and live out your dreams and in that process, bring joy to those around you. That is my goal.

Bold is walking away from a successful career. Bold is grabbing what you want even if it terrifies you. Bold is never allowing a job or a person to alter your core self. In 2018, I left my job as an Emmy-award-winning television photojournalist for NBC because the work began to clash with my true self. Our coverage had evolved into an exploitation of the negative and the horrific--completely counter to who I am. During my early years in the business, I worked on special project units, creating features that lifted people up. When crime for the sake of crime replaced those stories (because they got more web clicks), I made the choice to walk away from a great salary and benefits in order to live my truest self. In 2019, I made another bold choice and moved to a small town to open a Mercantile, something I had no experience doing. I've made it work, despite a pandemic that locked our doors for over a year. My philosophy? To create an old-timey experience where civility and kindness matter. Daily, I try to elicit joy. In 2021, I made yet another bold decision: to finish my education. In 1990, I dropped out of college due to finances. Now at age 54, I am rectifying my greatest regret. Is it scary? Of course. I'm spending my retirement. But it is an investment in self. As my favorite author, Ayn Rand said, "Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all... The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible." Possible, yes, and something I am determined to achieve. Doing so stays true to the person I am.