Jay Hunter Morris knows that talent alone does not necessarily lead to success. And, it certainly will not land you in a starring role at New York’s Metropolitan Opera. That takes a lot more work. And, as someone who can be called a late or young-baby boomer, he has worked for quite a while to make his dream come true.

Tenor Jay Hunter Morris at the Metropolitan Opera.

“I’ve been surrounded by phenomenally talented people for years … people I admire, people who have mentored me,” he says.

He knows the competition. So, he works harder, pushing his natural talent farther and farther. Long, exhausting hours of rehearsal.

After years of determination and hard work, usually as a backup opera tenor, Jay is taking to the stage of The Met in the starring role of Siegfried in Richard Wagner‘s formidable opera, Götterdämmerungor Twilight of the Gods.

He is starring with soprano legend Deborah Voigt who plays Brünnhilde. The operatic performance is a staggering five hours long and is the conclusion of Wagner’s fabled, four-epic Ring Cycle about treachery, death, deception, mythical gods, magic swords, love, hate, dense forests with strange creatures and dragons.

Jay got his big career break late in 2011. He was called in to replace the original tenor for “Siegfried,” who had become ill. Jay knew the part, and his performance at The Met in New York was spellbinding. Audiences – whether at The Met or watching HD telecasts around the world – were thrilled. Critics called his singing and acting, “A genuine triumph.”

Words like “genuine” and “authentic” are easily used to describe Jay Hunter Morris, whether watching him sing, perform or just visiting over dinner.

It has been a long road for Jay since growing up in Paris, Texas, where his father – who died when Jay was age 12 – was a Southern Baptist music minister, and his mother a church organist. But, the humble and real roots and dreams of his upbringing firmly ground him, even today.

We recently sat in a New York restaurant, bragging about our respective wives, children and personal things that matter most in our lives.

“My voice hurts, my brain hurts, my body hurts … I hurt all over,” he said, slumping in our booth at Lincoln. Why?! He has just finished another eight-hour day of rehearsing on stage with The Met’s orchestra and the other singers. But, all of his energy and sparkle returned when he talked about his actress-wife Meg and son, Cooper Jack. Grounding on what’s important to life and a shared knowing that pretension gets us nowhere.

I think that one of the many things that thrilled audiences about Jay’s performance of Siegfried – whether they watched in person at The Met in New York or in theaters globally on live HD television – was his believability, he accessibility. He brought the character to life. Most audiences had never seen or heard him before but his Siegfried was dramatic, exciting and the stuff of which makes for overnight legend.

Heck, I don’t care whether you enjoy opera or not, Jay’s “Ziggy” (as he calls his character) reminds me a little of Johnny Depp’s Jack Sparrow in “Pirates of the Caribbean,” with his own style of sparkle, energy and thrilling voice. I also believe it’s only a matter of time before Jay Hunter Morris develops a crossover second career as motion picture star.

How does he muster the stamina for such a demanding operatic role?

“It’s storytelling,” Jay says. “I know this story so well … I’ve sung it so many times that when the stage lights come on and the orchestra begins, I just find myself in Ziggy and sing the story.” With a lot of passion, I might add.

Not since the late Luciano Pavarotti have I found a tenor’s voice so captivating, so rich, so passionate. On stage, he is all charisma. Similar to Pavarotti’s magic but all his own.

Tickets to be there at The Met to witness Götterdämmerung are sold out. But The Met’s live HD global telecast of Götterdämmerung is Saturday, February 11, and probably showing in a nearby movie theatre. It is something not to be missed.

Connect with Jay on Twitter: @JayHunterMorris

(Photos by Gil Lavi)

Some people gave me one year to grieve. They saw grief as a straight line, with a beginning, middle, and end. But it is not linear. It is disjointed. ~ Ann Hood, Comfort: A Journey Through Grief

Wendy with her mother.

Grief is never linear, like my knitting, it’s disjointed!

I read with interest the semiautobiographical and bestselling novel “The Knitting Circle” by Ann Hood, and soon to be an HBO original movie based on the book starring Katherine Heigl. It’s a story about a mother and wife, who is dealing with the aftermath of the sudden death of her only child. As she struggles to make sense of this tragedy, she is encouraged by her mother of whom she already has a challenging relationship with, to take up knitting as a means of potential therapy and comfort.

She reluctantly joins a knitting group and slowly this circle of women start revealing their own personal stories and a thread of hope, healing and friendship gets strewn together. This book inspired me to find a local knitting group so I could experience this same sense of camaraderie and solace in the face of my own unrelenting grief over the loss of my mom.

Wendy with her late mother who is wearing a crochet hat.

Before I knew it, I was introducing myself before a small group of woolly enthusiasts and felt this strange urgency to tell them while I was there to improve my limited knitting abilities, what I really came for, was to glean some lessons on life. I like many other boomers, unfortunately are facing this sort of reality, the loss of one of our parent, or both. I am only 50 and yet still feel so infantile when it comes to such topics as aging and death. I know intellectually these are inevitable events, but in my heart, I’m a scared child who just wants her mom to tell her everything will be alright.

The wool pack I just met, comprised of two men, who looked to be in their 30s, four women who looked to be in their early 60s and one woman who could not have been more than 20, no stereotypical image of a granny knitting on a rocking chair here! Everyone was busy chatting and tending to their crafts, their knitting needles moving up and down in the air in a synchronized knitting fashion. Clearly, knitting has become all the rage now, with not only knitting groups meeting up in swanky cafés, but with an online tight knit community called Ravelry, drawing in yarn and fiber fans of all ages.

It took all my courage to bring out the bag that contained my mom’s wools and last unfinished project before she passed away. In this bag, which belonged to my mom, I took out what would have been a sweater; the two sleeves hiding unhinged at the bottom of the bag, her knitting needles still in place in the remaining ball of wool, the only knot, was deep in my stomach.  The leader of the group invited me to sit next to her and using my mom’s wool expertly positioned my hands around the knitting needles, and started me off on my first easy project, a scarf.

My mom loved to crochet and knit.  She always told me when she had something to work on, it kept her mind mercifully distracted from depressing or worrisome thoughts, and it even made her forget her physical pain stemming from a hip fracture and severe osteoporosis.  I so admired watching her weave her magic so effortlessly and produce within hours a soft acrylic poncho with long bright dangling fringes, or a slightly misshaped colourful crochet hat with earflaps and huge pompoms, now suddenly so in vogue and retro, but back when I was in high school and had to wear them, not so much!

As I was learning how to knit one purl two, I shared with the group that I decided to take up knitting because I saw how much joy it provided my mom, how she revelled in the anticipation of how something would turn out, and just simply how when she was in her knitting zone, she seemed so genuinely at peace.  I knew my mom was happiest when she was able to relax outside under a shade tree on her favourite lounge chair, surrounded by nothing more than a gentle summer breeze and her special bag of  knitting needles, crochet hooks and of course her myriad of marvellous wools.

I recall and hold dear the many cherished times spent with my mom and try to adhere to the pearls of wisdom once echoed by the renown knitting aficionado and pioneer of her time Elizabeth Zimmerman (EZ), who said “Properly practiced, knitting soothes the troubled spirit, and it doesn’t hurt the untroubled spirit, either.”  Words to embrace as I unravel and cast off another row of stitches from my knitting needle,  my scarf should be completed by winter (not sure which year though!) but somehow I feel rather compelled to knit on!   I know my mom would want me to.
 

Nancy Anderson

After reading hundreds of boomers’ autobiographies over the past three decades, I’ve concluded that life is a story that needs to be rewritten in midlife to reflect the desires of the authentic self. This means, the personality that emerges in our early forties, when material goals are not as important as finding answers to questions of ultimate concern: who am I, why am I here, and what should I do with the rest of my life? By contrast, when we are younger, we need to go for the personal gold, experiment with many options, try on different personas, and compete with peers for status and recognition.

Navigating the transition into midlife and beyond takes courage and persistence, since the younger self holds on with all its might in a culture that values outer success more than inner success. Holding onto what is dead and gone can provoke the well-known midlife crisis, with its regressive symptoms of alienation and depression. The solution is to let go of everything that has outlived its usefulness so that life energy can be redirected into goals that bring personal fulfillment, particularly in your work.

Given the volatile economy, rising costs of living, and the likelihood that safety nets such as social security, and dividends from investments and savings, may not be enough to cover expenses when you are older, now it is not just a matter of if you should follow your passion. You absolutely must find the work that engages your heart in order to weather the turmoil that will be around for some time to come.

Passion will carry you through economic downturns because you get better and better as you age, expertise that makes you virtually recession-proof. Once you are in the niche that nourishes your soul and serves others, you will be the center of calm in a stormy world.

To use a business analogy, owners and managers who survive and thrive in difficult times adapt to changes in the marketplace. They get rid of what is not working to make room for what works. This can be painful, but a streamlined operation sets the stage for new and more profitable ways to serve consumers.

Similarly, to survive and thrive in midlife and beyond, get rid of distractions like obsolete possessions, over drinking, overeating, socializing too much, working too much, and spending time with people who drain your energy. With distractions out of the way (and this will take a while), rewrite your life story so that the outcome matches who you are and what you value at this stage of life.

For example, pay attention to passion clues, such as work you would do even if you did not get paid for it, and enjoy the process as much as the result. Make a list of what you do naturally and well, then connect with employers, customers, or clients who need your enthusiasm and expertise to reach their goals. Be assured, once you get and stay on the passion track, you will arrive at your destination, getting paid to do what makes you feel free, useful and creative.

Follow Nancy online at www.workwithpassion.com.

The first thing we learned it: The Party Is Often Smaller.

Boomers prefer staying home and socializing with about four to eight people, from about five to eight at night. Eating at favorite restaurants or attending wine or microbrew tastings is also popular.
 

 
Margie, born in 1956, told us, “Joe and I rarely host parties; we have friends and neighbors over for dinner, to watch the superbowl, or just to socialize, but it is usually small-scale.” She’s not alone, especially among older couples from the Silent Generation. Judy, born in 1938, says, “We’re not as much of party people, though we like to play cards and have dinner with one other couple.”

What is a party? Some (and especially members of the Woodstock Generation) would define it as a wild, crowded celebration. Merriam-Webster defines party more modestly, as “a social gathering.”

So, while Boomers may not be willing to host Woodstock, they do like to gather with friends and family.

The next thing we learned is: Parties Have Meaning.

Time spent needs to matter. Jay, born in 1961, says, “Most of the parties I attend today come with raising money for causes like AIDS or diabetes; but, I also attend family weddings, christenings, or special milestone birthdays.

I’m more appreciative of the parties I choose to attend and more thoughtful and reflective of the people and memories.” Linda, born in 1954, adds, “I think you’re more relaxed about hosting AND attending parties (been there, done that.)”

Younger years were spent striving to be something or do something. Jay exclaims that today he “takes pause and says, ‘Oh, wow. I am those things. I did them’.” He picks and chooses the occasions worthy of his time. Fifty, sixty, and seventy-year-olds party because they want to, not because they feel- obligated.

Which means there’s something for all of us to learn: Timeless Party Tips.

Karen, born in 1944, suggests providing activities that appeal to each generation during inter-generational parties. On her recent cruise, “Each age group answered trivia questions from its own generation.”

Jay advocates inviting people from all walks of your life. Also, “get tables right.” Ceramic centerpieces can double as favors.

While energy levels change, parties still inspire. These generations are off their couches!
 

Jenny Paschall

It goes without saying that as Baby Boomers, we get aches and pains. Sometimes we visit a doctor and probably most of us take some prescription meds to control cholesterol, high blood pressure, etc etc.

But here’s my question: do we have to talk about our illnesses? Endlessly?? Why do people think fellow dinner guests are agog to hear about their latest probe or MRI? I recently had to listen to a complete stranger talk about his prostatitis. Then the rest of the party compared their recent doctor visits, amount of milligrams of whichever drug they’re taking — and the side effects, of course — then swapped recommendations for doctors who were absolute ‘must sees’ for ailments yet to be contracted.

Eventually, with gritted teeth, I said in my most English accent, “We don’t discuss illness in England. If we’re sick, we stay home until we’re better, then when we’re ready to venture out again, we’re only too delighted to leave our symptoms behind us.”

This statement was met with a stunned silence. Then one woman said, sniffily, “Well, you Brits are a different breed …,” then continued to talk about her herniated disc.

I just don’t get it. What is it with people? If they’re not talking about their illnesses, they’re talking about their insurance policies, and whether they cover dental and optometry.

So, fellow Boomers, perhaps you should consider this: talking about your aches and pains is, frankly, a pain in the butt. Your seasonal allergies and kidney stones are even less interesting than your photos of the eight grandchildren you insist on showing around the table.

You might all feel a whole lot better if you kept your illness to yourself, and made it a policy to discuss the latest movie release, New York Times bestseller, or even, heaven forbid, politics … and no, that doesn’t mean you can slip in a heart monitor story in the guise of a debate about universal healthcare!
 

Did you still have kids at home when American Idol was new on TV? Maybe it’s your grandchildren you watch it with now? Maybe you’re lucky enough to not watch it at all?!?

Marcia Barhydt

I have some good news for you, whether you love or hate American Idol or any of the new talent shows that are taking over our airwaves, like America’s Got Talent, Britain’s Got Talent, Upper Rubber Boot New Jersey’s Got Talent.

There’s a new show called Senior Star and yes, it’s for men and women over 65, the leading edge of the boomer generation. It’s a Canadian production and it’s produced in collaboration with a Canadian chain of high end retirement homes. In fact, this whole concept started in 2007 as one of their many initiatives for their own residents.

Unlike the Got Talent competitions which have extended to some really bizarre talents, Senior Star is for solo amateur musical contestants only — vocal or instrumental. There is no mention of whether a Kazoo qualifies or not.

The competitions are not live but rather are held in local venues due to the sheer number of people auditioning. For the 2011 competition, there were 140 competitors! I’m not sure if not having a live audience is a plus or a minus for them. Maybe I’m one of a small group of boomers who love seeing my name in lights, so I’d call it a minus. On the other hand, maybe it’s a plus for boomers who still deal with stage fright.

Who among us won’t confess to singing in the shower? Or in the car along with a favorite CD? I know that I sound supremely professional when I’m singing along with a full orchestra and the volume turned up really high. I’m full of vibrato and pitch and I excel at the nuances of lyrics and emotions. I’m not sure why I’m not the next Susan Boyle!

I believe that winners of American Idol receive a recording contract, something that might prove priceless in their lives. Senior Star is more modest; there is some payoff for the top three winners of the national competition — $5,000 for first place, $4,000 for second and $3,000 for third. I guess no recording studio has shown an interest in signing up 65-year-old virtuoso boomers and that’s really too bad because they’re missing out on a big bandwagon here.

Yes, there’s a bandwagon of talent, but more importantly there’s a big bandwagon of consumers. We are a force to be reckoned with and we want to listen to the music we grew up with. So if you’re in a position to supply us with that music — bonus for you. If you think this is a flash in the pan, then we’ll say goodbye to you and the horse you rode in on.

Now excuse me, I have to go. Tony Bennett is waiting for me in my car.

©2012 Marcia Barhydt
 

Carrier Slocomb

If you’re around a certain age and you find yourself feeling depleted, like your tank is on empty about your direction in life you should know that you’re not alone. Realize this: it’s not what you suspected – it’s not dementia. You can relax … sort of.

What’s good is that you’re making an honest confession. You admit you’re in a fog without a compass, and the GPS you rely on just won’t recalculate any more wrong turns. Don’t despair, because all you really need is an electrifying 60’s slogan to inspire youth in you again.
You need it because right now you are slogan depressed. You’ve been running without a reliable youthful guidance system for too many decades. Actually, it’s been ages since you felt led and comforted by a really meaningful Boomer slogan. Frankly, it’s beginning to show.

To be certain, take this test. Close your eyes, lean back, and put the sitar music on low. Have your spouse or trusted partner whisper, Make Love Not War over and over again in your ear. What image floods your brain; anything zippy? Does the slogan elevate your mood, speed your pulse, and inspire a dormant sense of righteousness? Do you feel like charging out immediately to change a bad world to good?

Then try Give Peace a Chance. Describe the Peter Max landscape that floats by as you skip through a daisy field of thumping greens and oozing yellows against a napalm sky. The old slogans still erupt with powerful effects. Can you see yourself as one in a long line of motley kids bringing a painful war to its bitter end?

When considering your position on a problem, are you either On the Bus or Off the Bus? The solution?

60’s slogans are myths radiating relevance — they bit off more than they could chew, but chew they did. Good ones inspired action. The world needed the hot blood of relevant youth if it was ever going to heal. World-aware 60’s slogans provided this, high ideals and ample hope from a demanding youth. You ever miss it?

I’m not even lying, but if we Boomers take this next slogan to heart, we could affect a mighty change with those who follow us. Love the One You’re With. Maybe then we’d set an example, and do some real trans-generational good by cutting down our out-of-control divorce rate.
 

By Greg Dobbs

Greg Dobbs hosting television coverage of a NASA Shuttle launch.

When I’m sick, I want the world’s best health care as much as anybody. But I wasn’t real optimistic that I’d get it a couple of weeks ago when, on my way to shoot a television documentary, I suffered a significant amount of internal bleeding aboard an overnight flight. Collapsing twice after we landed from massive blood loss, evidently I almost died.

That’s why I’m ecstatic to report that my fears of inferior care were ill-founded. In fact I’m ecstatic to be around to report anything at all. But I am, and here’s one of the reasons why: an expensive and innovative (Israeli-designed) tool I had to swallow called the PillCam. 36 hours after launching on a fantastic journey through the length and depths of my digestive system, collecting almost 60,000 diagnostic images inside me to pinpoint the source of my bleeding, the PillCam successfully completed its mission.

The thing is, this 21st Century marvel wasn’t at the internationally-famous Mayo Clinic, or the vaunted Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles, or the top-rated New York Presbyterian. No, it was at the big, battle-tested, National Health Service trauma center in Belfast, Northern Ireland called Royal Victoria Hospital, which I knew from covering the warfare in Northern Ireland in the 70s and 80s for ABC News.

Pillcam ~10mm X 25mm in size

Frankly, that’s why I had felt so low about what I faced. The Royal Vic was for victims of external bombings, not internal bleeding. What’s worse, I was being thrust into the hands of the cash-strapped budget-dependent National Health Service, and I would be hospitalized in the long-war-torn city of Belfast. I’ll admit, I was scared.

It wasn’t a perfect experience. I felt lost in the chaos of the emergency room. I had bloodlines spring leaks where they were inserted in my arms. I heard fellow patients around me screaming all night. And while recovering, I was presented with a couple of plates of food I wouldn’t pay for at a restaurant. But you know what? It’s a hospital. As a veteran of a few other life-threatening traumas, I’ve suffered the same at institutions in the U.S.

More important, just as I have in American hospitals, I had the high-tech procedures I needed when I needed them. Two angiograms, two endoscopies, CT scans, x-rays, a colonoscopy, and that tiny alien capsule that traveled through me, the PillCam. Some argue that in a universal healthcare system (which critics would call a euphemism for “socialized medicine”), you’ll only get urgent care if you have urgent needs. Well, about ten years ago when my back collapsed and I was reduced to crawling around my house with screaming pain until I could have some vertebrae fused, I’d say the need was pretty urgent. But it took a week-and-a-half to get me into surgery. That was in suburban Denver.

Belfast's Royal Victoria Hospital

The bottom line is, maybe it’s socialized medicine but the doctors and nurses and procedures and protocols were first rate; they saved my life. I have pre-existing conditions, which disqualify me for most insurance at home. Here? Except for personal medical histories to help treat me, no one even asked. In fact, the bureaucracy is so minimal and the priorities so different, no one ever even asked to see an ID card to prove who I am, let alone a credit card to prove my ability to pay!

And the cost? The “emergency” parts — the ambulance, the ER, the transfusions — came with no charge. The rest? Since I only went to Belfast to shoot a television news segment and don’t pay taxes and thus am not insured, I’ll pay alright, but since the model for hospital revenue isn’t based on market-driven, sometimes price-gouging profit centers, I won’t pay through the nose. If you think it’s no different in the U.S., you’re not paying attention. Market-driven healthcare systems certainly provide the best … but a big downside is cost.

And here’s the biggest difference between the two healthcare systems: the one in the U.K. is open for everybody. Residents don’t have to assess and agonize over the cost because they don’t have insurance. If they need medical care at any level, they just go. As I did. And get fixed. As I am.

And guess what: anyone who doesn’t like their universal healthcare system and wants something more can have it, through private insurance, if they’re willing and able to pay for it. Just like us. Socialized medicine? It’s not perfect, but then, neither is ours. This system saved my life. That’s good enough for me.
 

Chad Stone

• Women in their 50s are mature. They are my age, but they look older than I do—because I am in complete denial about how old I look.
• Women in their 50s know exactly what they want: men who are successful, handsome, sexy, independent yet devoted to their chosen woman, monogamous, fun to be with, and handy with a wrench when the faucet breaks. They love going out to nice restaurants and snuggling at home near the fireplace. They like having a gentleman open the door for them, but they want to be respected as equal partners.
• Women in their 40s try to seem confident, even when they are not. They sound wistful when describing the perfect man they are looking for. The disappointment of not having men in their lives seems almost palpable.
• Women in their 40s are looking for companionship and partners. At the same time, some haven’t yet given up on the idea of finding a mid-life Prince Charming. They are happy and content, but “sharing life and experiences with someone would add that missing piece.” Women in their 40s want men in their 40s, but many are willing to date men in their 50s.
• Women in their 30s are Babes. They are hot, and they know it. They love to show off their still-sexy bodies. At the same time, they want to be taken seriously as career women who are intelligent, ambitious, independent, and willing to show off their sexy bodies

The 30-something women who do not have kids wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of their biological clocks ticking. Those with kids have to deal with babysitters– and the sound of men running away from women with kids sometimes wakes up the kids when they are supposed to be sleeping.

• Women in their 20s are Babes, but they are ridiculously young Babes. Based upon their photos, every woman in her 20s has had breast augmentation, and they are really proud of their big, sexy American breasts. A shocking number of 20-something women have tattoos. And not just cute little butterflies or unicorns. We’re talking dragons, skulls, black widow spiders, and battleships.

Women in their 20s don’t listen to music I like. They like stupid movies. We have nothing in common. There is not a single woman in her 20s who is looking for an old fart like me.

I think I’m going to stick with the Boomers.

Confessions of a Confessions of a Middle-Aged Babe Magnet: One Man’s Brave Adventure into Dating Again in the 21st Century by Chad Stone is available from Amazon.com.

David Hemmings, nature photographer, on location.

They say that life begins at forty. In my thirties, I always used to think “what are “they” talking about and who in the heck are “they”? As we all know, “they” are a mystical, magical group of supreme beings that have all the answers and anecdotes for everything worldly. As hard as I tried to understand why life begins at forty I generally shrugged it off as something that didn’t apply to me.

After the years of being age thirty to thirty-nine the big 40 came around, somewhat quicker than I had anticipated! And wouldn’t you know it, “they” in all their wisdom, seemed to have a point about the forty and the life beginning at that age thing. Not overnight, but gradually as I eased into my fortieth and forty-first years a soothing calm and understanding of myself and how I fit into the world around me came to be.

I was no longer as driven by material things and the almighty dollar (although money still motivates me but to a lesser degree than in my younger years), also, I was no longer afraid of the unknown and of all the challenges and roadblocks that life sometimes gives all of us. I just knew that things will work out, one way or the other. Thus started the years of forty to forty nine, a decade for me of hard work mixed with lots of fun and travel, laughs, a few challenges, a great career, a beautiful wife and a general feeling of well being.

All through the two decades of my thirties and forties I had established my career in sales and had moved up to where I was now a Canadian Sales Manager for a well established and successful U.S. manufacturing company. The future was set, work until I was sixty, maybe sixty five, retire and enjoy the good life which is, of course, defined differently for all of us. At any rate, life was good, the plan was set and that calm, peaceful feeling that came with age was growing stronger by the month. Smooth sailing baby.

My life, scene three, take two, SNAP! September, 2009. Forty nine years of age, fifty coming in December.

The phone rings on Friday morning at the home office and I check the call display and see a number I have seen pretty much every workday for the last several years, my boss’s number.

“Hey Dave, what’s going on?” “Hey Ron, not much, tidying up some loose ends and getting ready for the weekend, what about you?” “About the same, the boys have a hockey tournament this weekend up near Toronto; do you think we could hook up for a coffee?” “I guess so, why, what’s up?” “We need to talk some business”
 
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Copyrighted photos by David Hemmings

 
My life, scene four, take one, SNAP!

I enter the front door of my home that Saturday afternoon and announce to my wife that I am no longer employed. “What?” my wife says, in a state of shock and disbelief. “Why” Restructuring, cost cutting, blah, blah, blah. You are a great guy Dave and we hate to have to do this I was told. Then don’t, I thought. I was a top performer in the company 5 years running, it just didn’t make sense, but let’s face it, things like this seldom do.

Remember that feeling of calm and peace I told you about earlier? Well, that was out the window at this point! What are we going to do now? I have not had to look for a job for a long, long time and as I was reminded, at forty-nine, I wasn’t getting any younger, companies want fresh, younger blood, especially in sales, thanks for the reminder.

I pour myself a fresh java from my French press and sit down at my home office desk that following Monday. My wife had left for the office and my trusty assistant, Brady (my eight year old dog) came in and sat on the rug beside and sighed, almost like he knew what I was feeling. I looked at him and said out loud, “what now buddy?”

Photo by David Hemmings

What now indeed. I remember! I need to plan my week, set goals and targets and follow through. I will use my years of sales experience to get a new job! This will be a piece of cake. Fast forward, December 11th, my 50th birthday and I am sitting at the same desk with the same dog and a similar cup of java thinking, now what? No job offers, no hot leads and a shrinking job market.

That is when it happened, an epiphany, that moment when you realize and decide to take a walk on the wild side. Self employment, you know, pursue your passion, your dream job, right? Absolutely right! What have I got to lose? Oh yeah, a retirement fund, security, which is usually false anyways, and a sense of general well being and a feeling of accomplishment. No biggy.Onwards and upwards I say!

As it turns out I was very fortunate to have a passion in my life outside of work and home. I had been pursuing it and doing it as much as I possibly could through the years. I had gotten really good at it too. Bird and nature photography. That was it that was my answer to unemployment and this was my chance that fate seemed to have placed in my lap at the ripe, young age of fifty. If I don’t do this now, will I ever? Am I nuts? Go get a real job and stop dreaming I told myself. On the other hand, my better half was fully supportive and said “why not? Go for it baby!”

So, go for it I did. I happily set out to start my new nature photography workshop and tour company, Nature’s Photo Adventures. Over the coming months I would work harder than I had in the previous 5 years at my career, or at least it seemed like it. We built our own website, we did a business plan and we were off to the races, maybe, but who cares, I was living my dream, my passion. I had some reservations about turning a love into a business. What if I start hating it or get bored of it? Fortunately, I love it more than ever because I get to teach it and share this with others.

My life, scene five, take five, SNAP!

I am now quickly approaching 52 years of age, my business is not yet where I would like it, but it is turning a profit and showing signs of good fortune for the coming year. Did we make the right decision to totally change our life course and how we would get there? I don’t know. I hope so. I do know that now I am travelling the world teaching people my passion.

I can tell you, that for me, life began at forty, which was wonderful, and then my life began again at fifty, how cool is that? Maybe it will begin again at sixty …

Today, David Hemmings leads outstanding tours for photography enthusiasts. More information is on his websites. David told BoomerCafé:

“Our goal at Nature’s Photo Adventures is to lead photographic learning adventures to the some of the world’s most beautiful and unspoiled destinations while providing a rewarding and educational learning experience.

“We strive to exceed your expectations, taking you on an adventure and a once in a lifetime experience. Explore nature, share, learn and develop new levels of photographic skills and leave with fantastic photographs and wonderful memories and new found friends.”

Used by permission of David Hemmings. Check David’s websites which are rich in his images:

Nature’s Photo Adventures: http://www.naturesphotoadventures.com/

David Hemming’s Bird Photography:  http://www.davidhemmingsbirdphotography.com/

Special thanks to PhotographyTalk, an outstanding website for photo enthusiasts.