When I was 12 years old my dad got me my social security number. I think he figured I was child labor and had better start saving for retirement. 

      Whatever his reasoning, he put me to work painting his horse fencing that encompassed his 900-acre horse farm in Pennsylvania. It was a summer job, and the paint was stinky (probably toxic) and way too white.  I was paid 25 cents an hour. 

      I then got a job in his nursing home as a nurse’s aide where I bathed, dressed, emptied bed pans and fed wonderful elderly people. I eventually graduated to the breakfast cook and learned how to make rice pudding, oatmeal, fresh fruit juices and watery broths. The people loved me, and I believe I lifted their spirits and brought them joy along with their daily enemas. 

      After college I took a job with my dad’s accountant who chased me around the office and tried to kiss me. I quit and moved to Cambridge where I worked in Harvard’s microbiology department for the notable DNA dude Dr. James Watson. I fell in love with one of the professors who was way older than me and we had a fling that only lasted until I met my future husband.  

      Rick and I moved to Vermont after our son was born, and I took a job for an upstart company that managed the billing and business affairs for the doctor groups at the University of Vermont Medical Center. During this time, I was growing and selling pot to support our income. It was illegal—oh yes—but it helped pay the bills and I was very popular. 

      I left work to have my baby girl. Rick and I spent five years producing a film, “Legends of American Skiing” (considered one of the top ten ski films ever made). But there was no money in documentary film making and we were literally starving so I took a job with a new development company hoping to redevelop the Burlington Waterfront. 

      This is where I landed for 40 years. It was a great job and as the CEO I helped create 250,000-square-feet of built environment on the shores of Lake Champlain. This job afforded my kids their educations and gave us a decent standard of living.  

      Now I am repurposed (retired) and am back making films with my husband. I have come full circle in 62 years of working a job. I don’t get paid any more for what I do, and I can only hope that the social security checks keep on coming and Medicare keeps paying my health care costs.

      Otherwise, I may have to go back to painting fences and emptying bed pans.