A few years back, John and I stayed in a beatiful bed and breakfast in Amsterdam as part of a European vacation. We were pretty worn out from an overly aggressive agenda in France, so by the time we got to Amsterdam, we accomplished close to nothing on our list: no boat ride on the canal, no Van Gogh museum, no visit to the red light district.
Which was all perfectly fine, because we spent a long, leisurely evening hanging out with another American couple staying at the B&B and we’ve been lucky enough to maintain a friendship since.
Alan and Susan Rubin could tell me stories all night and have me totally spellbound, not because they’re show offs but because they’ve lived such a rich and fascinating life. They’ll mention in passing having been to a dinner party with this famous person, or having done or been someplace amazing, with the same no-big-deal attitude I might apply to a discussion of what I made for breakfast today. They’re understated people who live life with gusto.
I could write about either of them endlessly but since Alan just launched a new Web site, it’s a good excuse to tell this story sort of from his point of view.
For those of you who know D.C., Alan and Susan ran an art house movie theater, the Biograph, with three of their friends. Naturally Alan would want to work in film, what with his experience at the U.S. Geological Survey at the Natural History Museum, the Army Map Service and the Department of Housing and Urban Development.
He says on his new site:
None of us had ever run a business before and there was initially a “Let’s put on a show in the barn” feel to it. It was successful right from the start and within a year or so we all quit our jobs and went into show business. The five of us each worked one night a week and every fifth weekend selling tickets and popcorn and learning how a movie theatre worked.
So that’s successful career transformation #1. But it doesn’t stop there.
When the lease was coming due on the Biograph, Alan decided to launch into his third career — as an artist. The Biograph had a rotating art show in the lobby, so he planned for their last art show to be his own.
I love how he describes this decision on his site:
I thought if I didn’t at least try it, I’d always regret it; you can always make more money, but you can’t make more time. Susan was very supportive. We both believe that happiness is when the things you work at and the things you play at are the same things.
Alan tells his story better, so be sure to check out his site. Spoiler alert. This is how he concludes his bio:
A sign, THE BIOGRAPH, in individually raised letters, identified the theatre. When we closed I removed the letters from the building and re-arranged them into a new sign: BIG ART HOPE; it hangs in my studio. I think this will be my last career.
4 Comments
Tebeau
The Rubins are who I want to be when I grow up. A combination of the two, like a chimera. I love those guys.
Joe
I have never set foot in the CVS which went into the Biograph space. Nor for that matter, the one which replaced the MacArthur in the Palisades – the neighborhood north and west of Georgetown. The last movie I remember seeing at the Biograph was called, “Wax, or the Discovery of Television Among the Bees.” It was a very strange movie and I wonder if Alan remembers it.
lara
So, I love all the blog posts lately even though I’m not a recovering journalist and/or someone who is brave enough (just yet) like Alan to jump into a career where I’m unsure of the outcome. But I will say this. I think we’re happiest when we use the talent and tools that are unique to each of us, and it doesn’t much matter the venue. I met someone who once considered being surgeon, but who wound up as a marketing research consultant instead. She said it was nearly a toss-up between the two careers, which surprised me because they’re so different. But she said the skills she was employing and the thought-processes she was using in consulting would have been a good fit in the medical profession too. It’s just that she wasn’t very good at chemistry.
I think that when we like our job, it’s because our work is an expression of what’s already wired on inside of us. I’d throw up and die if I had to do the meticulous historical research Jim Tobin does, but he’d probably throw up and die if he had to write a YA book. Yet we’re both writers. And happily we’ve found jobs that allow us to use our individual skill sets.
On a sort of related–but not really–note, I was inspired to think about my life’s work in a new way when a friend passed along this clip of writer Elizabeth Gilbert at the TED conference. I totally bawled my eyes out. It just really hit me. And for those in transition putting enormous pressure on themselves, it just might help:
http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html
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