DRIVEN

Only the rich drive here. Soon enough I learn to stash my painful pretties and don sneakers to cushion my way 'round this island they call Manhattan. I am here to make my mark. Not a thing else matters.

My new agent sends me out every day and I ride the subway - soon call it 'the train' - and it thrills and terrifies me as I race down its stairways, then get packed-in with the natives, whose indifference is mine to enjoy.

I wait at a light on Broadway and an elegant man moves close, stares straight ahead, says, "Might you have the afternoon free?" Say I, "Sorry, no." Says he, "Pity." We cross, go our separate ways, and I resume breathing.

At a posh party on Park, the bored super-rich invite hairdressers and actors because we're excited by life and keep the conversation lively. A guest offers me his limousine and chauffeur. Took the train there and driven home in a limo! But I never forget why I'm here. Voice, Dance, Scene Study. Uptown and down for auditions. And the thrill as the audience gets it, becomes part of us. And we all go on a journey together.

I meet a playwright in the city and we fall in love, especially with each other's talent. We're a team and make one another better. Gary comes to my performances and I to his, for we value the other's opinion above all others. The creative process is the air we breathe, our food and drink, our aphrodisiac. It's what we do 24/7 and we have nowhere to go but up, we deserve to go up, and we want to get there together. It's exhilarating.

In the midst of it all, we get married and a few years later have a baby. I spend the first months of my pregnancy at the Walnut Street Theater in Philadelphia playing the madam of a whorehouse in a wild west comedy. (Doctor's orders: no corset!) I'll never forget the first time I hold our baby daughter in my arms. And I realize ...

"I don't want to do it all. I want to do this."

Life changes.