Old Habits

     I can say this now. I’m glad I wasn’t born to financially privileged parents. Dad, a fair-skinned, freckled, ginger, barely survived his younger teenage years in the sweltering sun as a farmhand. While still in high school, he ran the projection booth at the local drive-in theater during summer breaks. His senior year, Dad’s mother introduced him to a petite brunette where she worked at the local laundry. That was Mom. She was smitten with the handsome boy who reminded her of Elvis with his slicked back hair, crisp white t-shirt, and rolled up dungarees. Mom and Dad graduated from high school and married less than a month later. 

     They both continued to work blue collar jobs for the following two years until Mom was expecting my older brother. As most mothers did in the 1960’s, she became a stay-at-home Mom until I started first grade. Dad made it clear he expected her to go back to work, and she did. By that time, Dad was working as a bank teller, and Mom worked, well, wherever she could…Whirlpool factory, hardware store, receptionist for a Realtor and a dentist. Together, they provided my brother and me a modest home to live, three squares a day, and new school clothes each year. 

     My brother and I learned from a young age that if we wanted anything extra, we were expected to work for it. We shared a paper route, delivering a weekly newspaper in our neighborhood. We made roughly two dollars each per week. In the summer, my brother mowed our yard for five dollars a week. I wanted in on the deal, so Dad paid me fifty cents a week to trim the weeds around the house and garage with hand-held clippers. When I was old enough, I babysat my next-door neighbor’s children. Within a couple of years, I was babysitting every weekend for several families. My grandmother hooked me up a couple of times too, washing windows and dusting for her elderly neighbor. My senior year in high school, I was trying to figure out how to pay for college, so I quit the gymnastics team to work part-time at a department store. 

     For me, not going to college wasn’t an option. I had dreamed of going since I was a young girl. I visited our high school career center regularly (clearly this was before the Internet start-up), reading up on various occupations. I loved performing arts from a young age. I would sing random heart-felt lyrics into Dad’s reel to reel tape recorder, wrote poetry in grade school, played songs on a small organ I got for Christmas, and acted in a few high school theater productions. But, somehow I knew I needed to further my education in a field that would offer opportunities for stable employment. I applied to several colleges and was accepted. The state of Indiana offered me a grant. It paid the full tuition at a state college, but excluded the expense of room and board, and incidentals. Dad now worked for the County Police Department as a 911 Dispatcher. He offered to send me $300 a month to help out, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. About half-way through my senior year, a friend asked me if I wanted to go along with her to see the Air Force recruiter. He was scheduled to visit our school later that day. I was intrigued, so I went. The recruiter said the magic words, paid college tuition. I joined right after high school and ended up making a living while serving in the military.

 

     After a twenty-seven year Air Force career and five college degrees later, I am revisiting my desire to be involved in the performing arts. I scratched the itch a bit almost 20 years ago when I was the lead singer for a local band. But, I knew I wanted more. Relying on old habits of good ole’ fashioned determination, optimism, organizational skills, and motivation, I am pursuing a career in lifestyle modeling, acting, and Voice Over artist under the professional name, Sissy Robberts. On a whim one afternoon in September, I applied to Heyman Talent Artists Agency. I received an invitation for an interview, scheduled for the following month. I used that time to my advantage. I wrote and practiced a 75 second monologue, assembled the appropriate wardrobe, researched the company (much easier to do these days with the Internet at our fingertips), and figured out how to look presentable with “little to no” make-up (not an easy task for me since I’m someone who rarely leaves home without it). Two weeks following the interview, I was offered representation! Since then, there’s been much to do-- professional photos, audio demo recordings, tweaking social media accounts and my website. It’s all very exciting, and for once in my life, I feel like I’m finally throwing caution to the wind and following my dream.

 

I’ll admit it has been a huge learning curve doing something totally out of my wheel house. But in my mind, there’s no option other than to go for it, thanks to Mom and Dad and those early lessons that old habits of hard work and perseverance will lead you to a life of success.