A Moment in the Spotlight

The date had been circled on my calendar for months. On
Feb. 7, 2009, I was scheduled to appear onstage in a large exhibit hall, talking about my story in the newly-published Chicken Soup for the Soul: Empty Nesters. While I appreciated the opportunity to particiate in the expo, I was struggling with how to approach the topic. How could I make my personal story interesting to strangers? And more importantly, how was I going to manage getting up in front of a big crowd to talk about… well, me?

I mulled over these questions for weeks, which is a fancy way of saying I procrastinated. I kept myself busy with much more important projects, like cleaning my closet and choosing a new paint color for the master bathroom. I've always found that my house is never cleaner than when I'm trying to avoid a deadline! Finally, just a few days before the show, I sat down to organize my thoughts into a 15-minute presentation. It covered the process from reading a submission call for stories, to finding inspiration in an old family photo, to learning my story had been selected. I also scanned in some photos for a simple PowerPoint slideshow, hoping I might find courage in having some familiar mementos with me.

On Saturday morning my husband helped me pack up my stuff, including a stack of books, some bookmarks with my website address on them, and—because I figured I needed all the help I could get generating traffic—a supply of wrapped chocolates. We set up at the assigned booth and watched the crowd start to build. My friend Donna joined us; she had come to lend moral support and to man the booth while I was onstage. And my friend Mark brought his camcorder so that my out-of-state parents and sons wouldn't have to miss it.

When it was my turn on stage I took a deep breath and started. I used my script for reference but tried to keep my eyes mostly on the audience. Two women in the front row smiled every time I glanced their way. I'm sure they have no idea how much that helped me—thanks, ladies! Scanning the crowd I saw friends and coworkers who all knew my story but had come out to support me. The psychological boost I got just from seeing their faces was incredible. And when I heard people laugh—in all the right places—I knew I would get through it.

Fifteen minutes later I was back at the booth, where a few people were actually waiting to buy books and get them signed (a one-minute clip appears below). Over the next hour I heard a lot of other women’s personal stories of being—or anticipating being—empty nesters. I could whole-heartedly recommend the book to them, which I had found to be funny and sad, touching and inspiring. I knew they would, too.

Later when people asked me how it went, I replied honestly that it all seemed to pass in a blur. Mostly I remember feeling grateful that my story seemed to resonate with people, and that for a little while, it created a connection between us. In fact, "grateful" pretty sums up my feelings about the whole experience: I'm grateful to my friends, who took the time to come and encourage me; to my boss, who set up the presentation and encouraged me to do it; to my parents and sons, who all called to wish me luck; and especially to my husband, who has been on the journey with me from the beginning. Having them here to share this experience is like not only enjoying the ice cream, but having a big (chocolate-covered) cherry on top.

Book signing at the Women's Expo, Feb. 7, 2009