Toys Are Us

By TAD BARTIMUS

My friend's grandchildren are blissfully free to fill up carefree hours between naps and meals with toys, games and playmates. Except for territorial boundaries imposed by harried parents and caregivers, they can explore as far as whim and imagination take them. These toddlers are too young to be pushed by well-meaning adults toward the best college, the best career, the best pension plan.

I watch these innocents with great curiosity, after being treated to a recent reminder that the pleasures we discover in childhood also help us become happy and successful adults.

This "Ah ha!" moment came during a Junior League conference I reluctantly agreed to speak at. Since birth, I have not fit the profile of what I presumed a Junior Leaguer to be: a perfectly groomed, genteel, well-to-do lady with plenty of time to do good works.

Nothing would have pleased my late mother more if I'd grown up to be a part of that club; it would have meant I'd adopted a certain lifestyle. Instead, I was a rebellious child of the '60s who chose to be a workaholic journalist with a rumpled wardrobe, living from paycheck to paycheck. My contribution to society was writing about the bad guys, an extension of my childhood passions of devouring LIFE Magazine, writing stories and reading biographies about famous women reporters.

In the 20 years since I'd last thought about the Junior League, it has evolved from the white-gloves-and-tea-parties of my mother's era into a diverse forum of women who mentor one another for jobs inside and outside the home, and who generously volunteer in their communities.

The conference was organized to give attendees tips on how to find or improve their careers, stay healthy, manage their finances, and make time for creativity. A highlight was hearing four entrepreneurs reveal how they found fun and profit by creating businesses out of childhood passions.

The famous artist said she's loved painting and drawing since she picked up her first crayons. The bookstore owner said that throughout her childhood she hid under the covers with a flashlight and read late into the night. The beauty salon magnate was a poor student who lived for recess when she'd paint her gal pals' fingernails. The founder of women's fitness centers had been a runner for many years.

They candidly detailed the false starts, detours and disappointments that preceded success. The artist was forced to become a good businesswoman when her then-husband failed at it. The fitness guru's desire to help other women get healthy grew from her own weight problems following the birth of her first child. The bookstore owner bravely admitted that expanding her own business is tough on her family. The beautician hates taking her three kids to work, but sometimes has no alternative.

No one expressed regret. Nobody ever wanted to be an employee again. Each reached back to resurrect a childhood passion and turned it into a profitable grown-up enterprise.

"Are you happy in what you're doing day today?" one asked rhetorically. "If you're not, start over again."

Among the tips on their success checklist: start small, don't expect too much; educate yourself; enlist mentors; learn if you are a risk-taker or risk-adverse, so you'll know how much support you'll need; problem-solve every day; work smarter, not harder; grow with the business.

Watching my friend's grandchildren rearrange the living room furniture, build a campsite out of quilts, paste together personal notebooks, and practice tumbles and cartwheels, I'm consumed with curiosity about their future career paths. I hope I live long enough to find out.

Meanwhile, spending a day with the Junior League was a humbling reminder of all the gutsy, independent women who are living embodiments of the refrigerator magnet that promises: "It's never too late to be what you might have been."

I can just hear my mother saying, "I told you so."

© 2003 The Women Syndicate

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