When I was in grade school in New Jersey and people would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up, my rote response was, “a lawyer or a doctor.” I was consequently a rabid student and didn’t have much of a life by my arrival in the dorms of NYU. But being in New York City, I felt compelled to go as fast as everything else around me - so I dropped out midway to become a bike messenger. And wow, what an adventure that was. After some pretty-bad accidents, run-ins with the police and stolen bikes, I went on to be the owner of a successful messenger company, sold it, moved to Paris, upstate New York, and then onto Oakland. Over the following decade, I worked as a secretary in the banking industry. However much security this occupation seemed to afford, it was depressing sitting in a cubicle all day long. The carpool lane, the expense reports, even getting up in the morning - were dreadful chores. The years rolled on, and I was terrified of the present and the future. The only respite from the boredom, was watching Blade Runner again (it is the greatest movie ever made) or dancing all night long through to Sunday morning at the End-Up. :-)
Then one Friday evening in a San Francisco museum, I had a chance meeting with a stained glass artist. This was exciting for many reasons: it presented the possibility of a more meaningful profession, while serving as a surprising reminder of what I really wanted to be: an artist! I had just never allowed myself to admit it before. A few more years passed before I finally quit being a secretary and started creating complex jigsaw puzzles out of glass everyday. It’d be hard to describe what a different world I live in now. Beautiful stained glass windows don’t have to be reserved for immense cathedrals. Today I maintain a studio in Carmel, where we design and create scaled-down versions for private residences. And if you hear of a house-music party, or that Mark Farina is spinning somewhere within a 500 mile radius, call my number right away. Because some professions and habits may grow old, but dancing will always be timeless.