It's a Kennedy-type phrase: the measure of a man/woman. I could almost hear the late Ted Kennedy say it this afternoon.
My Baby Boomer acquaintance had tears in her eyes. Essentially she was semi-retired. Still putting in about 40 hours a week in her own business. But, at age 70, she knew that she couldn't manage the former 90 hour weeks, even if those many additional accounts came in.
Her despair was one many of us share as we review our lives.
"I have so many regrets about how I managed my career. I could have really made it big."
That's what she told me. No, she hadn't been in the big time in her field - real estate. She had done well enough to live well, put three children through college, and be able to divorce the husband who had been a bad fit. But national realtor of the year? None of that. Sure, she had won some local awards.
I was blunt: "But someone will have made it bigger than you. That's the rub."
After I relocated from the New York Metro area I had to stop checking success metrics. Never again would there probably be that kind of big money and big-name clients. Instead, I asked myself what kind of non-professional accomplishments there had been.
At the top of the list was animal rescue. I took on the responsibility of a Victorian house to provide foster and forever homes to homeless cats and dogs. After my own nervous breakdown and loss of a nest egg I made it my business to continue to take care of the one dog and five cats still with me. I achieved that. That was even though for a while I had to take them to the state-funded vet clinic and rent rather than own a house. When it was time for them to pass over, I was with them. That, to me, were my finest acts.
Other non-professional accomplishments included being able to recover from the family disease of alcoholism. Two uncles died of it. My cousins are quickly following them. Yes, I was "saved." I am both proud and grateful.
In addition, from somewhere I got the strength to dump two college acquaintances who were not good for me: Kathleen Huebner and Irene Nunn. We were not close at Seton Hill, Greensberg, Pennsylvania. But after my breakdown I tried to be more open to who came into my life. Once I got it that the fit was a disaster for me, they were gonzo. Hurrah for me!
My acquaintance in real estate has much to measure her life by. Without bothering with the professional accomplishments column. We all do, don't we. We made it this far, didn't we.
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