Transcriber: Queenie Lee Reviewer: Tanya Cushman
I'm standing on top of a 50-foot telephone pole
to go, to jump and reach the bar swinging below.
I stand paralyzed, looking up,
praying for a helicopter to lift me up and rescue me.
No such luck!
I was getting very hungry, so I finally take a breath -
and of course, a rope is attached around me -
and I jump.
Never came close.
But it was exhilarating, inspiring to overcome the fear,
and I made it safely to the ground.
How many of you often say,
"I shoulda, woulda, coulda,"
finding excuses to procrastinate?
This experience helped me realize
that if I wanted to have the fullest life possible,
I could no longer procrastinate.
Fear had been inhibiting my life in so many ways,
but it was at this moment in my life, specifically,
that I had a petrifying fear of flying in a small plane,
which became very important
because my darling husband
had just finally accomplished his dream of becoming a private pilot,
and of course, he expected me to fly with him.
(Laughter)
So, remembering the experience
of overcoming the fear at the top of the pole,
at which time I would walk up to his airplane,
concentrate all my power into a clenched fist and say,
"Eileen, you have two choices: you can walk away from the plane,
or you can open the door and step in and have a wonderful time."
So that's what I did.
And we had many exciting trips, near and far.
I even took flying lessons.
(Cheers) (Applause)
But when asked if I could land the plane,
I responded, "Of course.
But it may never fly again."
(Laughter)
The pole was one of the challenges that I voluntarily accepted,
in Palm Springs, attending a two-week NLP -
that is neuro-linguistic programming -
with Tony Robbins,
the summer of 1986.
I was 57, yeah, 57.
A most - the most memorable challenges I was presented with
was walking on 40 feet of hot coals.
I did it. 40 feet. No burns. I did it.
But of all the activities that I can't believe I did -
and my husband,
when he found out, he shouted, "She did what?" -
was the challenge to get all the way from Palm Springs
and accomplish a good deed.
We would leave in the evening,
without any money, credit cards, ID,
and of course, no cell phones.
Who knew what cell phones were in 1986?
[There] weren't really any, to my knowledge.
So how does one make that journey?
Well, to start,
one sleeps on a sofa in a motel lobby in Palm Springs
and promises the manager
that I would rise and depart very early in the morning.
When I wake up, I head for a coffee shop.
I didn't think I looked like a beggar, but I guess I was
because I literally begged for a cup of coffee, a little piece of toast.
Then the fun really begins - hitchhiking.
Oh my God, 57 years old, and I'm hitchhiking?
I stand at the side of the road with my thumb in the air,
put it down nervously.
The first few cars drive by until I finally keep it up.
A car stops, I jump in,
and I move as far away as I possibly can from the heavyset driver.
It takes three separate rides to arrive at the intended destination.
For what?
Well, my group had agreed to meet at an elementary school in LA,
at a specific time arranged with a principal,
to perform good deeds.
We all arrived safe and sort of hungry,
and teach several classes a smattering of cool NLP.
Bits of wisdom.
Now, why did I put myself through all of this?
Because at age 57,
I realized it was never too late to reinvent my life.
So thank you, Tony, for your fear-into-power challenges.
(Applause)
But that kind of thinking
had never been a part of life for girls of my generation.
So in 1947, I attended Hofstra College,
well-known now as Hofstra University,
since Trump and Clinton just debated there.
After one year, at age 19, I quit,
to do what many women did in those days,
become a wife, a little later on, an army wife,
and then mother of three sons,
which meant I was juggling carpools
for Little League, Boy Scouts, music lessons,
religious school, tennis lessons, doctors, dentists, marketing, cooking,
and even cutting my boys' hair -
they had long hair; they were afraid to go to the barber.
I was also a Cub Scout leader, and room mother for my boys.
Saving my sanity during these days
was a design job for two or three,
thanks to a home-study course from the New York School of Design.
But it was never quite enough.
So one night, after playing mahjongg with some girlfriends,
I started thinking that there had to be more stimulating things,
more interesting things,
something I could do
rather than consume so much coffee, so much cake,
and engage in so much idle chatter -
topping it off with having trouble falling asleep.
It was then I made a decision that instead of mahjongg,
I would spend one evening a week at school
and continue my journey to earn a college degree.
So I enroll at Santa Monica City College,
followed by UCLA,
followed by Cal State Northridge,
where I finally gather all my credits,
and after possibly setting a record for the longest time to get a BA degree -
29 years -
I did it.
(Applause) (Cheers)
I earned a bachelor degree at age 49,
strengthening my credo that it is never too late.
But it was really only the beginning
of fully understanding what that credo meant.
I continue to dive headlong into education.
To make my contribution to society,
I attend a two-year certification program
in human services,
at the University of Judaism.
And through that program,
I choose to volunteer at Planned Parenthood,
(Applause)
teaching safe sex.
(Laughter)
My method was I carry charts
and, as a display, bananas -
a horrifying thought to my three sons.
(Laughter)
And I taught this at many, many schools throughout the Los Angeles area.
And in 1994,
I also created a weekly support group, called the Tuesday Club,
for troubled students at Stoner Avenue school.
But that wasn't enough either.
So I studied to become a clinical hypnotherapist.
What fun making my kids count backwards and leave out a number.
And that was at the age of 70.
But apparently,
there were things waiting for me to test my never-too-late credo.
One of the joys of my life
was having my first grandchild born on my own 57th birthday
and sharing the birthday with her for the past 30 years.
It was the best birthday present ever,
the best, the best.
But Chiara had been avoiding a bat mitzvah,
usually done for girls at age 13.
Tired of hearing her father's nagging,
at age 15, she tells him she would do it if I would do it with her,
so sure I would say no.
She marches into the kitchen and says,
"Grandma, I've decided I'll have a bat mitzvah if you do it with me."
Much to her surprise and chagrin,
consistent with my "never too late" philosophy,
I smile, look at her and say, "Yes, let's do it."
(Laughter) (Applause)
I think she was ready to shoot me.
(Laughter)
Lots of study, lots of partying - she was 16, I was 73.
It was a glorious memory in 2002.
But the dares from family members didn't stop.
The next dare comes soon after my son emails me,
"Friends of mine told me about a school,
a cool master's degree course in spiritual psychology, in Santa Monica.
It would be perfect for you."
I push back and finally give the excuse, "No way,
I'd be 75 at the end of the two-year course."
My son immediately replies,
"You'll be 75 in two years even if you don't do the course."
(Applause) (Laughter)
He was right,
and he made it even more compelling by offering to do it with me.
That convinced me
because as a loving mother, my overriding thought was
"It'll help him, so I'll do it."
(Laughter) (Applause)
Among my many projects at school,
the most intense one was to interview men and women in their 70s
who were still accomplishing new challenges.
Angela Lansbury, she had always been my hero,
and she graciously invites me to her home for a two-hour interview.
She's definitely an exceptional woman.
With her permission, I repeat her words to me:
"You're growing, you know,
and that's a wonderful thing to do at your time in your life.
I won't say age, because age really has nothing to do with that.
Well, you and I are ageless women."
(Cheers) (Applause)
Thank you, Angela. Those words continue to inspire me.
So after two years of incredible knowledge,
I walk across the stage and receive my master's diploma,
75 years after being born
at one of the most challenging times in American history,
three months before the Wall Street Crash of 1929,
the beginning of 10 years of devastating depression.
I swear I had nothing to do with it
although my father would tease me that it was all my fault.
Men were jumping out of windows.
My father lost his job.
My mom, dad, and I had to move in with his parents.
Gratefully, we rose above this and many other hard times,
including my polio
and being literally quarantined in a Brooklyn hospital
as a result of the polio epidemic in 1935.
What was equally tough was dealing, as a young girl, with racial -
not racial but religious discrimination.
I can still see, in my mind's eye,
nasty little boys following me to elementary school,
throwing stones at me, shouting, "Dirty Jew, go eat your matzah,"
and remember seeing many signs saying "restricted."
My parents explained that it meant,
that it means we Jews and also blacks not allowed.
While I was too young to understand
exactly what those signs and restrictions meant,
it became very real
when I was denied entrance to Cornell University in 1947,
not because of my grades, they were good,
but because soldiers [were] returning from service
and the already-small Jewish family quota became smaller.
So at an age 87, I'm still going to school,
now enjoying an autobiography and memoirs writing class
at Emeritus College.
(Applause)
But this is important, because I googled "gratitude,"
and it's something that is so helpful to the body and the mind.
I give gratitude for what I have had and what I still have.
Grateful for my six grandchildren,
which is the reward for not killing my boys
(Laughter)
when they drove me crazy.
And grateful for the opportunities to open doors, walk through,
experience life,
remembering with every step
that it is never too late, except when it is.
When you no longer can climb Mount Everest;
visit the countries on your bucket list;
wake up without pain somewhere in your body;
or turn to a grandparent, parent, sibling,
best friend or even your husband,
hold their hand, tell them you love them
or ask them what you have been meaning to ask them.
It ultimately will be too late for everything and for everyone,
but in between now and then,
it is not, it absolutely is not too late.
So what are your coulda, shoulda, wouldas?
No matter your age,
make your list, pick one and do it now.
(Applause) (Cheers)