Yesterday, I met an incredible woman who could have been me––if I hadn’t been raised by a dysfunctional mother.

I had a date for lunch with a couple of writer friends, one of whom brought her cousin who was visiting from the West Coast. She was a lady just a few years younger than I, but she had lived a full and rich life, the life I had wanted for myself but was too timid to try. This woman–let’s call her Faye–was uninhibited, spirited, full of joie de vivre (joy of life), and simply a pleasure to be around. She recounted tales that had me salivating with envy–stories of singing with an all-girl band, writing music and parodies, even singing on the sidewalks in a street market in Seattle, and entertaining Lily Tomlin during a book signing.

At one point, something triggered a mutual memory for us, and before I could stop myself I began to sing along with her the song from The Music Man, the one about people from Iowa: “But we’ll give you our shirts and a back to go with it, if your crops should happen to DIE!” ending up in glorious, improvised two-part harmony. Wow! And believe it or not, none of the other patrons in the restaurant threw things at us. They just smiled in reflective joy.

Then I told her about my childhood dreams to become an entertainer, even a star on Broadway, and how I was a finalist in a singing contest in Chicago when I was 21 and had been offered a job singing with a band. Of course, when I’d called my mother and told her about it, she shot me down, telling me all the reasons why that was NOT at all the future for me and I should just forget it. Faye then proceeded to tell me what my mother probably said to me, about how the musicians would drag me into debauchery. Apparently, she’d had a similar experience, but whereas I stupidly obeyed my mother, Faye had thumbed her nose at convention and lived her life actively pursuing her dreams.

How I wish I could have been Faye! On the other hand, I have to ask myself (and you should ask yourself, as well): Is it too late to be Faye? John Vorhaus writes about the formula for success in his book, The Comic Toolbox, (1994, Silman-James Press, L.A.): “Talent + Drive + Time = Success.” I thought to myself upon reading this: The formula is additive. So, although I don’t have a lot of time left, and I’m not sure how much talent I possess, however I can control the amount of DRIVE I put into it.

This is probably excellent advice for all of us who are “of a certain age” who have unfulfilled dreams of success. So, keep an eye out for me. I just might have enough drive left to become WHO I COULD HAVE BEEN.