In 2010, I was toast. Leaving my teaching adjunct position two and half years earlier in the Fall of '07, I discovered myself unemployed after regaining my wits and asking to return only to be told, don't call us, we'll call you. I'd never put myself in such a spot before and there were many times I thought that this must be what is utter collapse. Yet, the few temporary jobs I was able to acquire now bring a smile to me and why I am writing The Year of the Brown Shoes. Because back then I'd get a strong, gentle voice coming up from my spine and into my heart saying, "Keep going." Never any other two words and I'd stare at the wall wondering how to do what I was being instructed to do? So I kept going by meditating, studying, searching the classifieds and my soul, taking long walks, and living from that spot inside that said to keep going. And during this time in 2010, the women of my life indeed saved me and allowed me to carry on and are still creating miracles for me. I honor and pay humble homage to these women in this post. But even before 2010, the ripple of gratitude must be given and presented here for all these women you will read about touched my life at critical moments, and today I am stronger, wiser, and more whole because of them.
First there was Teresa Souza in El Paso who hired me as her public relations specialist for Providence Memorial Hospital. I beat out about 200 applicants, some of them UTEP graduates just like me except that I was 35, a bit older than them, and perhaps a little more desperate. Divorced and with two daughters, I had just moved out of my parents' home where they had allowed my family and me to live as I received my undergraduate degree in Creative Writing and Professional Rhetoric. Thank you to them!
Teresa whose name I struggled with for weeks and who finally helped me by saying it rhymed with Vanessa hired me because I had written newsletter stories at the bank where I worked before returning to college. For that I beat them all out! Hoorah! My older brother who was living in NYC, called me as I was job hunting and said I'd never get a job in public relations and that I'd be better off becoming a secretary at an ad agency and trying to work my way up. But I had children to care for and I needed a professional position and salary. Thank you, Teresa.
And to Rhonda Dore who replaced Teresa and showed me how to shine. She is someone I count as a friend and who attended both of my parents' funerals and who has been a lifeline for me from her incredible letters, collages, and fantastical writing. I love you, Rhonda, and thank you.
Sr. Rita is the first on the left.
Then there was Sister Rita Nowatzki at the New York Foundling who hired me as her publications coordinator. Oh those were the lush years and what I'd do with that position today with the knowledge I have now! I was offered the job just as my daughters were flying into LaGuardia. Thank you, Sr. Rita.
Next came Betsy Jacobs who hired me at the Vanderbilt YMCA to be her communication director. Oh the visions I had of making it there! I thought I'd be on the same floor as her and even have an assistant. I'd made it big time, I thought, but when I arrived I did have an office, but it was dimly lit and huddled into the youth department right outside the gymnasium. The staff resented me because the volunteer coordinator had applied for the title I received and inner power struggles began. I was miserable and overworked. I quit two weeks before 9/11 and once the horrendous event occurred, tried to backpedal, but the new director reminded me of my words to her earlier of how unhappy I was and sent me on my way. But, thank you, Betsy.
That's when Sarah, the social worker there came to my defense. She asked me what was I going to do and I said I wasn't sure. "Come and be a youth advisor with me at Washington Irving High School for Teen Action. Your kids are teens and you're good with children." And like that, saved. I loved learning about workshops and helping and my service career was born. Thank you, Sarah.
Then came Michelle Herman who replaced Sarah who was promoted and I came to realize I was working with an incredible human being. Also a social worker, Michelle taught me so much about workshops, the issues surrounding youth and life in general, and how to stay human in a non-profit world, but most of all the dynamics of being an employee. Michelle opened my eyes to loving myself, forgiving myself, and growing to be as tall as Paul Bunyan in desire and dedication.
Michelle also turned me on to a job as a resource counselor with Literacy Partners. Pregnant with her first baby, she gave me the position and the impressive hourly salary again provided me with salvation. Thank you, Michelle.
It was there I met Anna Limontas Salisbury who says I inspired her to return to grad school and become the journalist she always dreamed of being. And later it would be Anna who would continue to uphold our bonds of friendship and today, I consider her one of my greatest friends. Thank you, Anna.
Eileen is first on the right.
But back to 2010, tired of being outside of the professional world, but not knowing where I fit in anymore, one icy January day I received an email from Eileen Ressler who I taught with at ASA, the college who had shut the door on my obstinate face. Eileen, the best scurrier of gigs I'd ever seen, said she had a weekend tutoring job at Mercy College and just couldn't fit it in anymore and did I want it?
Did I want it?
I started there in February, riding the 6 train to the Bronx and walking on the icy, snowy path to Mercy College, happy as a pig in mud. Months went by and Eileen emailed me again, asking if I'd consider co-teaching with her at an organization called HANAC, teaching ESL to Welfare recipients? I totally didn't think I could do it, but she assured me I could, and the beautiful director there who didn't want to lose Eileen hired me and I am mighty grateful to Maritza Pritsos for taking a chance on me. She knew from my answers during the interview that I didn't know anything about it, but she gave me a chance and last June, saw my students give me three bouquets of flowers and remarked to me the next morning that I had "blossomed as a teacher." Thank you, Eileen.
Most of all, I want to thank my mother, Nancy Lee Powell-Hastings who bailed me out throughout my adult life. Now I know I can do it all on my own, but there are times when help is miraculous until the connections are made in the gray matter of the brain and the red cells of the heart. My mother understood saving money and it went against every grain in her to release it, but she did it and I realized this soon before her transition that this is such an act of love. She rose above her concerns and did it anyway. Two days before she flew away, she turned to me and said, "I'm sorry," and I knew what she meant, and I told her I was sorry, too, and all was done. Over, over, done.
Thank you, Mama. I miss you so much.
My daughters, ah well, them agreeing to be borne of me is the greatest connection of all. I am so utterly grateful. They are so delicious and strong, brilliant and stable that I thank God for their light and testimony every night before bed. And for all the stumbles, tumbles, and errors and risks I've experienced, they still love me. They see me. And I see them. Thank you, Leila and Sarah. Te amo forever.
I see all of you, women. Thank you to all you women who hired me and befriended me, especially you, Marylynn Gulbrandsen. I will never forget your mercies.
And to anyone I have left out (you men, you know who you are who have helped me, muchas gracias!), I thank you. Let's do this. Onward!
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