Pat Mitchell

I almost gave up.

It was 1971, and I was a divorced single mom who had just summoned the courage to move from a teaching college in Virginia to New York City for a job at LOOK magazine. 

Nine months into the job, LOOK stopped publishing.

Out of work and nearly penniless, I almost packed my bags, and with them, any hope of a career in media. 

Then fate intervened, and a friend loaned me just enough money for one more month of rent. I went downtown in a pouring rainstorm to pick up this generous loan, and when I got back to my apartment, I realized I'd left my purse, with all of the money in it, in a cab. 

This was rock bottom.

Then, fate intervened again. The phone rang. "Is this Patricia Mitchell?" a voice asked.

"Yes," I replied, cautiously.

"This is Rabbi Goldberg, and I have your purse." 

I was so grateful that I nearly wept. As I told him how much his act of kindness meant to me, he said, "Patricia, at some point, everyone needs a rabbi, and tonight, you got yours."

That experience taught me to never give up, and instilled in me a commitment to be other people's "rabbi," something I've tried to do as a mentor, as a friend, and through the causes and projects to which I devote myself.

We all find inspiration and courage by hearing how others have overcome barriers or gotten through tough times. I know I do. That's why I'm sharing my "rabbi story," and why I'll share other stories from time to time here on this site, as well as in the book I'm writing — a memoir with the purpose of mentoring. More on that to come.

I have been encouraged to write this book by so many of the young women I’ve been privileged to know, to work with, and, yes, to mentor.

Women like Courtney Martin, a remarkable writer and innovator (listen to our StoryCorps conversation).  

We need to share our stories as women, as a way of offering roadmaps to each other — roadmaps to finding our power, and to using it in meaningful ways.

That's why I'm sharing my story. I hope you'll share yours.