09/29/2026
I have been thinking a lot lately about where I came from, where I am now, and how many things in my life that once seemed completely unrelated were actually connected all along.
At 60 years old, I am beginning to understand my own story differently.
I am not starting over.
**I am starting from experience.**
I was born and raised in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and creativity entered my life very early.
At around 10 years old, I received my first Sears & Roebuck camera. It had one of those little flash-cube inserts on top. My mother would give me money from my allowance so that I could get my photographs developed.
I didn't know anything about building a photography business.
I didn't know anything about digital design.
I didn't know that one day we would have smartphones, artificial intelligence, social media, or programs capable of creating things in seconds that once took hours.
I simply knew that I loved taking pictures.
I loved creating.
I loved seeing something and finding my own way to capture it.
That little camera was one of the beginnings.
But before anything else, **I was an artist.**
I drew.
I created.
In high school, art was my major. I studied CAD drawing and hoped that art might become part of my future.
But I also remember being discouraged.
As a young Black woman, I was told that art wasn't necessarily a practical field for me. I was encouraged to think about something more secure.
Go to college.
Become a nurse.
Maybe become a pastor because I knew how to motivate and encourage people.
Life took its turns.
Marriage.
Children.
Responsibilities.
I married a Philadelphia police officer, raised a family and entered professions that might have looked very different from the artistic future I once imagined.
But something important never happened.
**I never stopped being an artist.**
The road changed.
The artist didn't.
Technology fascinated me too.
I attended Jefferson Business College and studied information processing and computers.
This was back when computers looked nothing like what we use today.
Green screens.
Characters.
Dots.
Symbols.
Very limited graphics.
But even then, I found a way to play with them.
I would create little designs and forms of computer art from whatever those early systems allowed me to use.
Other people may have looked at the computer and seen information processing.
Somewhere inside of it, I saw another canvas.
That curiosity never left me either.
The tools changed.
My curiosity didn't.
My path also moved strongly into education, recreation and community service.
I became involved with Philadelphia summer arts programming, which allowed me to share creativity with children and communities instead of keeping art only for myself.
I also developed my own after-school extracurricular programming and taught Spanish at Lewis C. Cassidy Elementary School in Philadelphia for several years.
I served as president of the West Philadelphia Cluster within the Philadelphia public-school community.
I also taught Spanish programming connected with West Philadelphia High School at 48th and Walnut Streets for approximately three years.
I have always believed children can learn more than adults sometimes give them credit for.
Art.
Language.
Technology.
Confidence.
Responsibility.
Possibility.
Sometimes a child simply needs someone willing to expose them to something they haven't experienced before.
Eventually my professional life expanded into social services and recreation.
I became a Social Services and Recreation Coordinator with the company now known as Michaels, formerly Interstate Realty Management.
But social services was never just an office or a title to me.
It was always about looking at another person and asking:
**What might help you move forward?**
Sometimes that meant organizing job fairs.
Sometimes it meant helping someone work on a résumé.
Sometimes it meant employment resources.
Sometimes it meant teaching.
Sometimes somebody simply needed another human being to remind them that their situation did not have to be the end of their story.
I especially remember working with young women who had children early in life.
I wanted them to understand that becoming a young mother did not mean their future was over.
They could still learn.
They could still work.
They could still grow.
They could still become.
My husband had always encouraged me to keep up with technology, and I owned computers of my own.
So I brought two of my personal computers into my office to give women opportunities to learn and practice computer and typing skills.
I remember using a typing program—I believe it was Mavis Beacon—to help them practice.
To somebody else, that may have looked like a simple typing lesson.
But typing could help somebody prepare a résumé.
A résumé could help her apply for a job.
A job could become the beginning of a completely different life.
That is something I have always loved:
**seeing the possibility behind somebody's present situation.**
Eventually my own life changed dramatically.
My husband's career had already changed after September 11.
He had been a Philadelphia police officer, and after 9/11 the military contacted him and his work eventually brought him to the Pentagon and the Washington, D.C. area.
That change eventually brought our family to Virginia.
In 2008, after apartment living had become something I simply did not enjoy anymore, we purchased a home.
I had my home again.
But I was also in a new place.
Away from Philadelphia.
Away from much of the community and activity I had known.
And I was bored.
A friend encouraged me to find something part-time.
Something that would keep me active while still giving me time to enjoy my family and continue doing my art.
That led to another unexpected chapter.
For approximately 10 years, I became a special-needs school bus driver with Fairfax County Public Schools.
But anybody who knows me probably knows I wasn't going to simply drive the bus.
Those children became another little community.
I encouraged them.
I talked with them.
I taught them.
Even Spanish made its way onto my school bus.
Because whether I was in Philadelphia or Virginia, in a school, apartment community, social-services office or school bus, the instinct was the same:
If there was something useful I knew, I wanted to share it.
Then life forced another change.
I became ill and learned that I had a brain tumor.
Around the same time, my family was experiencing major changes.
My daughter was preparing to have her first daughter.
My grandmother passed away.
There was grief.
Medical uncertainty.
Family responsibility.
Pressure.
I eventually had to stop driving the school bus because I was no longer well enough to continue safely.
For somebody who had spent so many years helping other people figure out what came next, I suddenly had to ask that question about myself.
**What comes next for me?**
I knew I didn't want all of the pressure in my life to destroy the rest of me.
So instead of only thinking about what I could no longer do, I started asking a different question:
**What do I already know how to do?**
That question became another turning point.
By that time I had already created **MFHAS Social Services** on Facebook.
I didn't have a major nonprofit.
I didn't have employees.
I didn't completely understand how to turn what I was doing into an organization.
I simply knew that if I could share useful information, encourage somebody, point somebody toward a resource, create something for children or help someone move forward, I wanted to do it.
Sometimes I used my own money.
Sometimes there wasn't anyone helping me organize it.
I did what I could with what I had.
But I also needed income.
I needed something creative.
Something I could physically manage.
Something that could become a business.
So I started searching.
That is when I discovered a digital photo-booth opportunity called **Tap Snap Photo Booth**.
I invested in the franchise.
And suddenly several parts of my life that had seemed completely separate began fitting together.
Photography.
Computers.
Digital artwork.
Graphic design.
People.
Events.
Creativity.
Business.
I already knew how to work with computers.
I already understood photography.
I already knew how to create digital artwork.
So when I needed backgrounds, photo layouts, collages, digital displays and customized designs for events, I didn't have to pay somebody else every time something needed to be created.
I could create it.
The little girl with the Sears camera was still there.
The art student was still there.
The woman experimenting with art on green computer screens was still there.
The student who had studied information processing was still there.
The photographer was still there.
The artist was definitely still there.
Now they finally had another place to work together.
My photo booth became much more than something to keep me occupied.
It showed me that skills I had been collecting for decades could become income.
And underneath that photo-booth business, another business was becoming stronger:
**digital design.**
Every event needed something.
A layout.
A theme.
A graphic.
A background.
A customized experience.
The more I created, the more those design muscles grew.
And MFHAS never really disappeared either.
The service side of me stayed alive.
I continued sharing information, encouragement, community resources and awareness.
As I have matured, I have become even more thoughtful about how I want to use that platform and my voice.
Not only to entertain.
Not only to design.
But to encourage.
To teach.
To share.
To talk about things that matter.
To help wherever I realistically can.
That includes areas such as veterans' issues, suicide-prevention awareness and other concerns that fit the original heart behind MFHAS.
Then technology changed again.
Artificial intelligence entered the creative world.
New design programs appeared.
Social media opened completely new opportunities.
And something wonderful happened.
Instead of deciding that I was too old to learn another new thing, I did what I had been doing since those old green computer screens.
I started playing with it.
Learning it.
Clicking buttons.
Making mistakes.
Asking questions.
Trying again.
And I discovered that technology was finally beginning to catch up with some of the things my imagination had always wanted to do.
My photo-booth work became stronger.
My design work became stronger.
My ideas became bigger.
And **Just So Personal Digital Design Studio** began growing into something much more serious.
Today, I can say that I am building a digital design studio.
Not because someone simply handed me the title of CEO.
Because I am doing the work.
Learning.
Building.
Designing.
Experimenting.
Creating systems.
Correcting mistakes.
Starting again when something doesn't work.
And getting better.
There is another part of this story I believe deserves acknowledgment.
Some younger creators helped wake something back up in me.
TikTok introduced me to people creating, teaching and showing new possibilities.
Creators such as Kendra Kreadit! with *Did You Know*, Shay and *The Shay Room* FB, Shopaholic and others I encountered online reminded me how much the creative world was changing.
They didn't create the artist in me.
That little girl existed long before TikTok.
They didn't give me photography.
They didn't give me decades of computer experience.
They didn't give me my years of social service or recreation work.
But sometimes another person isn't supposed to build your entire road.
Sometimes they simply turn on a light.
And I believe in giving people credit when they positively influence your journey.
Those younger creators helped remind me:
**You're still here.**
**You still have something to create.**
**You still have something to learn.**
**And there is still room for you.**
Now, at 60, I can finally look backward and see connections that were difficult to see while I was living them.
The camera at 10.
The drawings.
The art classes.
CAD.
Jefferson Business College.
Information Processing.
Green-screen computers.
Spanish.
After-school programs.
Philadelphia summer arts.
Recreation.
Social services.
Job fairs.
Résumés.
Typing lessons.
Community programs.
Marriage.
Children.
Moving to Virginia.
Special-needs school transportation.
Illness.
MFHAS.
Photography.
The photo booth.
Digital graphics.
TikTok.
Artificial intelligence.
Just So Personal Digital Design Studio.
At first glance, that may look like someone who changed directions a hundred times.
Today I see something different.
**I see one woman gathering tools.**
Photography taught me to see.
Art taught me to imagine.
Computers taught me to experiment.
Social services taught me to listen.
Recreation taught me to engage people.
Teaching taught me patience.
Working with children taught me possibility.
Community work taught me resourcefulness.
Illness taught me that sometimes reinvention arrives before you feel ready for it.
The photo booth taught me that creativity could become income.
New technology reminded me that learning has no age limit.
And faith taught me to keep moving even when I couldn't see very far ahead.
My journey reminds me of climbing those beautiful mountains in Sedona, Arizona.
People love the photograph from the top.
But they don't always talk about the climb.
It gets hot.
You're tired.
Your mouth gets dry.
Your lips get crusty.
Sometimes you sit down and wonder why in the world you decided to climb the thing.
Sometimes you need shade.
Sometimes you need some water.
Sometimes you look upward and realize there is still a long distance to go.
But eventually you turn around.
And suddenly you realize:
**Look how far I've already climbed.**
That's where I feel like I am today.
I'm not standing at the end.
I'm somewhere on the mountain.
And every now and then, God allows me to sit beside the river.
Drink some water.
Catch my breath.
Meet somebody new.
Learn something new.
Encourage somebody.
Help somebody if I am able.
Then I get back up and continue climbing.
Faith is a major part of that journey for me.
There were roads I expected to travel that never happened.
There were dreams that were delayed.
There were people who discouraged me.
There were times when family needed to come before personal ambition.
There were seasons when surviving mattered more than creating.
There were times when I doubted myself.
Yet somehow creativity kept coming back.
Service kept coming back.
People kept coming back.
Purpose kept coming back.
Now when I pray about this next chapter, I don't simply ask God for success.
I ask Him to bring good people into my life.
People I can learn from.
People who are genuine.
People who help me continue growing.
People who help me do right by myself and my family.
And if God blesses me with enough, I want to have enough left to bless my friends and other people too.
At this age, legacy means something different to me.
Legacy isn't something we start thinking about only at the end of life.
We're building it while we're living.
It's what your children remember.
What your grandchildren see.
What somebody learned because you stopped long enough to teach them.
What someone attempted because you encouraged them.
The photograph you took.
The picture you drew.
The child who discovered art.
The woman who realized her life wasn't over.
The résumé you helped somebody finish.
The job fair you organized.
The computer you allowed somebody to use.
The person who saw one of your posts on the exact day they needed encouragement.
The business you built after being told that art wasn't a practical future.
Those things count.
Today I am Philadelphia born and raised and Virginia living.
But every version of me traveled here.
The artist came.
The photographer came.
The technology student came.
The Spanish teacher came.
The recreation coordinator came.
The social-services worker came.
The school-bus driver came.
The community advocate came.
The photo-booth owner came.
The wife came.
The mother came.
The grandmother came.
The woman of faith came.
And eventually they all met the entrepreneur.
I am still learning.
Still creating.
Still serving.
Still building MFHAS.
Still building my photo-booth business.
Still building Just So Personal Digital Design Studio.
Still learning new technology.
Still encouraging people.
And still believing in the artist I was before I ever understood what being an artist could become.
I am not trying to pretend that every part of my journey was beautiful.
It wasn't.
Some roads were hard.
Some dreams were delayed.
Some people underestimated me.
Sometimes I underestimated myself.
But I kept moving.
And I kept creating.
So when I look at my life today, I don't see somebody who suddenly became a completely different woman at 60.
I see the same little Philadelphia girl who once held a Sears & Roebuck camera and couldn't wait for her pictures to come back from being developed.
She just has better equipment now.
More stories.
More scars.
More faith.
More knowledge.
More people she loves.
More people she has helped.
More wisdom.
A lot more technology.
And thankfully, still a whole lot of curiosity.
My story isn't:
**"Look what I became."**
My story is:
**"Look how many times I kept becoming."**
At 60, I'm not starting over.
**I'm starting from experience.**
And by the grace of God, I am still climbing.
Still learning.
Still creating.
Still encouraging.
Still serving.
Still loving.
Still believing.
Still building.
And still becoming.
**— Pepper Mae Stanford**
