Exposure Therapy

I didn't want for anything, but I didn't know there was anything to want for

I won!

I was 20 years old and had never won one damn thing in my life before, aside from tennis matches, softball games and track meets.

It was a Louisville Stoneware beverage dispenser. I was in Louisville, Kentucky as a student attending the Women in Communications (WIC) regional conference. And, I, the lone college student, had just randomly won the big prize.

For the most part, the women were gracious that I took home the beautiful decanter as a 20-year-old dorm resident, but to me, the prize represented so much more: I had arrived in big girl land and had the fancy adult goods to prove it.

My mother was afraid of flying (well afraid of most everything) so we didn’t venture far from my suburban post-war home where every house was exactly the same on my street - the hip late 60s split level, described by my grandmother once to her friend: “my son lives in a house just like in Beverly Hills”.

Our version of going out to eat was eating on the picnic bench in the screened patio room.

I didn’t want for anything, but I didn’t know there was anything to want for.

I had driven to the conference as VP of Programming for the Kent State University Chapter of WIC. I wasn’t stupid; I knew having to contact speakers would provide contacts for future job opportunities. (And as a matter of fact, did just that.)

But as I interfaced with these women leaders and attended their conference, it opened up a world I didn’t even know existed. This happened a few times in my life: working during high school for a Jewish retailer family including college breaks introduced me to the first committed Jew I ever met. The son and I became friendly and he even invited me to his Jewish country club on the other side of town to play tennis. (Yes, I eventually married a Jew.)

There were no private country clubs where I lived. He would regale me with his time spent living in New York City and I would soak it all in like it was a faraway land. And finally, I once travelled to NYC as part of a college American Advertising Federation trip and THAT story requires a completely separate essay.

Exposure. I didn’t want for much, but I didn’t know there was anything to want for.

Think back in your life to an instance where this happened for you. For my veteran Oprah Winfrey Show producer sister-in-law, it was when her mother took her to a taping of the Mike Douglas show and she knew instantly she wanted to be one of the people holding the clipboards.

My other sister-in-law was raised in small town North Carolina with an educator father and was a voracious reader. Right after high school graduation, she knew, while although she loved her town, London was waiting for her.

With no plan, she lived there for three years, eventually returning to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology and owning her own successful NYC-based PR firm. (She still has a slight southern drawl as a remnant of her roots.)

Exposure.

Another friend said she became a feminist the instant she accompanied her mother’s friend to buy a car in Central Illinois and the woman got right to work, sat down and handed over cash payment of money she earned herself. Nearly 70 years later, my friend recalls this as if it were yesterday.

Which leads me to the recent fundraiser for Ohio gubernatorial candidate Dr Amy Acton that two friends and I organized last week, “100 Women for Dr. Amy Acton.”

The minute we began to reach out to friends, it was like we were all winning the lottery all day long. The response from the female leadership of Cleveland was immense (but we knew it would be.)

One female CEO asked if she could bring her daughter and then a lightbulb went off. Of course! Bring ALL of your daughters!

Yes, it was amazing to raise $130K and counting, but I’m not going to lie - the young future female aspect of our event rattled my soul.

And why limit it to donor daughters? Soon, we were reaching out to the Cleveland Schools, and a friend made it happen.

They brought along the top three scholars from James Rhodes High School who happened to be rocking females. (A school dear to my heart, as my uncle was a longtime history teacher there.)

Exposure.

These future female leaders didn’t just attend, but they were guests of honor. We made sure Dr Acton named each one, and the crowd of females - who UNDERSTOOD - cheered them on.

Yes, it was thrilling to be among the cream of Cleveland women leaders. But for me, the true meaning came in the handing off of the torch.

Until recently, I still had that Louisville stoneware beverage dispenser. It lived in my attic for a couple decades, and leaked almost from day one.

I lugged it from apartment to apartment, house to house, through a broken engagement and finally marriage and a young family.

It was more than just a beverage dispenser. It represented to me a time when possibilities emerged, and maybe I was as special as that piece of pretty pottery to deserve them.

Exposure.