I was working as a singing-waitress at Disneyland in my third year at Cal State Fullerton when I abruptly quit school to go on the road with a band (and why did no one try to talk me out of it). Summer stock followed, then Improv and stage plays in L.A. and San Francisco, and onto Las Vegas as a backup singer/dancer. Soon traveling with my own show. Next step: The BIG APPLE!

Only the rich drive here. Soon enough I learn
to stash my painful pretties and don sneakers
to cushion my way ‘round this island they call
Manhattan. I am here to make my mark. Not
a thing else  matters.

My new agent sends me out every day and
I ride the subway - soon call it ‘the train’ -
and it thrills and terrifies me as I race down 
its stairways, then get packed-in with the 
natives. Their indifference is mine to enjoy. 

I wait at a light on Broadway. An elegant man
moves close, stares straight ahead, and says,
“Might you have the afternoon free?” Say I,  
‘Sorry, no.” Says he, “Pity.” We cross, go our 
separate ways, and I resume breathing.

At a posh party on Park, the bored rich invite
hairdressers and actors - we’re excited by
life and keep things lively. When I say good 
night a guest offers me his limousine. Took 
the train there and am driven home in a limo!

But I never forget why I’m here. Voice and
Dance and Scene Study. Uptown and down
for auditions and rehearsals. What a thrill 
when an audience gets it, becomes part 
of us, and we all go on a journey together.

I meet a playwright in the city and we fall in love, especially with each other’s talent. We’re a team and make one another better. Gary comes to my performances and I to his, for we value the other’s opinion above all others. The creative process is the air we breathe, our food and drink, our aphrodisiac. It’s what we do 24/7 and we have nowhere to go but up, we deserve to go up, and we want to get there together. It’s exhilarating.

In the midst of it all, we get married and a few years later expect a baby. I spend the first months of my pregnancy at the Walnut Street Theater in Philadelphia playing the madam of a whorehouse in a wild west comedy called Sly Fox. (Doctor’s orders: no corset!) I’ll never forget the first time I hold our baby daughter in my arms. And I realize . . .

“I don’t want to do it all. I want to do THIS.”

Life changes.

I immerse myself
in this new life
of full-time motherhood.

Haven’t left me behind.
Just getting accustomed to
a new setting to help find
what makes me tick, and
savor the breaks between
that feed my spirit.

For while the baby sleeps,
the bread rises
and so do I.

No longer a need to connect
with the crowds but reconnect
with myself. An avalanche of
ideas waits to be uncovered
about what I think - not what
I think they might want to hear.

Even when baby awakens
come the spaces where ideas
can settle and later rise
as though I’ve added yeast
to the mix after the
pummeling and pounding.

Is this what
‘having it all’
means?