Dear IF readers,

This month of October is about the life and death of families. I am loving the story by the mom, Emma Goldman who has a biological son and is adopting another child from the Congo. She has made an intentional choice to have a multi-cultural, bi-racial, adoptive, biological family. Fantastic. And she is bringing International Family Magazine along for the ride. That is a lot of vibrant living.

Then, Grandma Ellen talks about her brother, cancer and, the fragility of life. The leaving our family is as much a part as the entrance of babies, but no one likes to talk about it as much. Not to sound morbid, but I like that IF mag dares to talk about death and death in families. It really is not such an awful thing if put into perspective that a life lived well and long is a celebration of the life cycle rather than a tragic loss.

There is of course, death in the family that is a tragic loss, and we talk about that at IF mag as well. Our writer from South Africa, Rhea Miranda, you can find her work of her son’s suicide in our Kidz section. There is death that is unexplainable. But when shared as a story, maybe it is less burdensome than carrying it alone. We have also shared with you the Virginia Tech Massacre as a massive international loss in one afternoon in the U.S. and the families all over the world that lost loved ones that afternoon. That was also a tragic loss.

Families are from birth to death, both ends of the life spectrum. Families live and die through the generations, they are witnessed, and told about in stories that are handed down. Here is our IF mag stories to share with one another. We look forward to hearing your family stories as well. Good reading, Cat Wayland

Dear IF readers,

September at IF mag is our month to celebrate diversity in family with our ongoing column and new writers of The New Global Family.  What does that mean, “The New Global Family?”  Families of today, newer than yesteryear are more global.  Migration and modernization has brought us together and we are mixing it up.

When I was a little girl, my old world grandfather was against an adopted, mixed European grandaughter (me) of an Irish, Catholic adoptive family (them)- to mix it up with my then Quaker, Scottish boyfriend (him).  If my grandfather were alive today, he would have alot more of my dating choices to contend with.  Children today don’t see color, religion and culture as borders anymore. Not nearly as much.  And the older generations are passing on. 

Today is new.  Yesterday is old news.  We live in a time of the New Global Family that is defined by two things - the worldwide web and cultural change.  Which came first, the chicken or the egg?  Who knows…..but people talk to one another online from around the world.  People date online now.  Borders have been broken down. 

Migration and jobs have brought us together and taken us out of our old, comfort zones.  No longer does a person get to stay at a company for 20-30 years. Companies don’t give pensions much anymore, 401ks have made us individual portable retirement entities, we move around.  When we move out of the all white, German neighborhood for a new job in the urban mixed culture city, things “mix it up”.   

The New Global Famiy is today’s world of “mixing it up”.  And IF mag wants to reflect that reality.  I still laugh at how many family magazines have a white mom and a white dad with a white child on the cover. Who are they?  They don’t live in my neighborhood anymore.  They lived next door to me when I was a child.  But that was 35 years ago.  Times have changed.  I hope IF mag answers the times rather than submitting to those that hang onto some nostalgic place of yesteryear. 

Dear IF readers,

I am in the classroom full time this 2009-2010 school year - and thrilled. I am also very impressed with the profession and the state of South Carolina or at least my district, Beaufort County. My process of induction has been held to a very high standard, with trainings, mentors, exams, etc. And I have felt very supported as well. And yet, like all professions, there is high comedy when it comes to behind the scenes. But I liked very much a speaker they brought to our spirited rally of teachers this afternoon, Mr. Stephen Peters, I will have to purchase his stuff because he was amazing. Just said such great stuff about students, teachers and life. He asked a large audience of people which of us in the group were “new teachers” and we raised our hands. And he said, “Fake it till you make it.” Amen. I like Katherine Hepburn as well for what she said about life. Katherine Hepburn was interviewed once and asked why she seemed so confident about everything. And she replied in a rough quote, “I’m not. But would you have me go around quibbly and worrying? I have no idea what I am doing. But I made a decision early on that worry made no difference, that once I’d made my choices, I needed to stick with them. Sink or swim. And I’m a swimmer.” Well, Monday is my first day of classes and I will be doing my own kind of swimming. Another great speaker and mentor told me recently that it is the Swan swim. On top of the water people see a great and beautiful white bird, and underneath that same bird is paddling around furiously trying to stay afloat.” Here is to life’s great swim, Cat Wayland

Dear IF readers,

 Apologies for the absence.  I went into the first of two bladder surgeries on June 10 and did not want you to suffer my daily journal of self cath, pain and all.  But it was an eye-opener as a family magazine editor to write about what families mean. My children were my delight during my recovery.  My dogs were my saving grace from loneliness.  And my husband was my companion in aging and facing all of these humble turns on the path of humanity.  Family called frequently and sent food and cards.  Friends sent books.  It was a healing that healed not just my body but my mind and spirit.  I knew from my “time out” from the real world of daily acitivity that I had a place to come back to and that I was missed and mattered to my family and friends.  I was part of a community that would of course go on without me, but would rather I stay awhile longer.  And I am blessed that the health issues are minor really, and that I will get a few more years with the human family.  I am blessed and honored to be a part of this family life on Earth.  And I am glad that the first two surgeries are over, and there is only one left.  2 down, 1 to go.  I have missed my readers and IF mag greatly.  And I am glad to be back.

 Warmly, Cat Wayland IF mag editor and founder, cat@internationalfamilymag.com

Dear IF readers,

As our May issue went live yesterday on the 1st, I was getting into a taxi on my way to Jazz Fest in New Orleans, 2009. This is my 16th annual Jazz Fest with my husband John. I have written about the Fest before. It is our joie, our spiritual center. Yes, we go to church regularly and participate as worship associates and youth advisors and religious education instructors. But at the end of April each year, we make a special pilgrimmage to the center of our souls. To connect with others and ourselves in a way that is without words, a musical, dancing prayer of sorts. There is great community and kindness and laughter. We pack our bags, we bring our chairs and blankets and we get in cars and planes to journey to the New Orleans Fest grounds for a few days of spiritual revival.

And it heals what ails us. There have been years when John and I were having trouble that the Fest cured the passion and romance. There have been years when the money has been low and we have been struggling, and Jazz Fest reminded us of the basics again. And maybe that year it wasn’t a nice hotel or the entire Fest, it was a budget deal and a day or two. But we went. We got back to roots of love, and dance, music and sharing. We have made the ritual a priority, a must if you will. And because it is always there, there is always hope.

Hope is a beacon in life. Hope for a better future. For a comfortable lifestyle. Hope for the repair of a relationship that is damaged. Hope for career. For self. For your children or family. Hope drives us. Without hope, life is dismal. What drives your recharging hope? For me, it is my relationship to God, to my family, my inner strength and sense of magic, and a future of adventure and possibility. So much of that is realized in the few days of my time on the Fest grounds. Routine goes away, and there is a time of reflection. The music booms and there is not ability to get distracted with words that position people in judgement or competition. And so there is smiles and dance. A sharing of space that is community and humanity in a way that put aside territory and vertical positioning. Who is better, who has more. These things are not asked on the Fest grounds. And in that, hope gathers up.

Here is to finding your hope, Cat

Dear If readers,

My marriage to my husband John is like any marriage. It has its ups and downs and alot of middles.  I like the ups and middles and I don’t like the downs, who does?  What I like about International Family Magazine and its writers is its honest stories about life and family.  And although I don’t write as much as my contributors and edit, I enjoy sharing in the magazine blog. And so these are my two stories of my almost divorce.

The first time my husband and I had only been married for a few years.  But we had been together for 6 years before we got married so we had known each other for 9 years. There is a 10 year difference between us.  When John and first met I was only 25 years old.  I had no idea who I was.  John was a film professional, and I was a graduate student and waitress. Our connection began over our global travels.  We loved adventure and meeting people and variety and independence. And we were of course, attracted to one another. Funny, though. I told him the night I met him that he was “too pretty” and looked “normal” like that was offensive.  He said “what do you mean normal?” I said, “I don’t know, like a police officer or something.”  At the time, I considered myself deep and artsy.  I spent days getting my masters degree and nights hosting and reading poetry in bars in the city of Albany, New York.  So after I got married to John, I started to think about who I was as at 31 years old, and how I wanted to have children and raise them well.  I stopped going out to bars and liked to be home more and settled.  I was working in publishing 9 to 5 everyday dreaming of editing and writing books.  John worked independently, sometimes for 2 weeks straight and sometimes he had lots of time off. That made John and I grow apart, he still liked the bar scene, sleeping in, crazy hours.  There began to be issues of seperation and trust, and doubt and whether we wanted the same thing.  John didn’t even know if he wanted babies.  So one day, I drove to Seattle, Washington tired of the fighting and offered John a quiet seperation so we could just move on. We signed temporary paperwork that seperated us and protected our finances while we figured out what was next.  We spent the next 3 months on the phone while I lived 3,000 miles away in guest bedroom in my best friend’s house.  We decided together without so much pressure at being roommates, that we wanted babies and we would raise them without the trouble of bars and booze like our families had done.  I flew home for Christmas to see if we felt the same in person.  We had a beautiful Christmas and made our reconciliaton official with the legal paperwork.  We went to church and lit candles and held each other tight. I drove home a month later, 4 weeks pregnant with our first son, Jackson.  I was glad we had settled some big issues before the babies came.

The next time we thought of divorce, our first son Jackson was a toddler, I was pregnant with our second son, and my dreams of a career were permanently on hold.  Now it was money, and careers, and sharing the parenting that was causing our fights.  I felt trapped and that my life had changed drastically.  I felt that if I was going to be a single parent for the most part, why shouldn’t I just raise the boys alone.  We went to our minister with Jax crawling at our feet, and I as big as a house.  Rosemary, our minister gave us the name of a counselor and hugged us and promised to pray for us and hope for us.  We went to the therapist for the next couple years and the “D” word, stayed around for the first year.  We had to learn how to compromise, to share, to work as a team in every area, raising the kids, the bedroom, even cleaning the house and cooking food.  The business partnership of being a family while keeping the admiration and passion alive enough to want to bother with staying married.  We had to take the “D” word off the table and act committed to the long term, no matter the troubles.  I went back to school nights to become a teacher of reading and writing and I launched International Family Magazine.  John gave me alot of Friday nights off, some entire weekends and we agreed on a babysitter budget so I could work on school and the magazine and feel valuable in my career again.  And Saturday date night was a tradition that was started and continues today. Slowly we began to talk, to share, to connect, to laugh again. I never thought my marriage would look so old fashioned with me staying home more than having a career.  And John didn’t think he would have a partner without an income to help.  We had worked side by side for years.  But we wanted the children to have the best upbringing and that is what we decided instead of daycare.  It is a very personal choice and we agreed finally that our family was happiest when one parent was always around.  Sometime around the recovery of our marriage, we bought me an anniversary ring with 3 more bands that represented with my original band the 4 people at risk in our struggles. We felt strong that we would grow and the boys would benefit from our courage to keep trying, patience, and friendship and love.  Last September on our 10th wedding anniversary, we renewed our vows with our children at our feet, smiling up at us. And it felt like my first wedding day. I knew what I was saying taking my vows this time, I knew what it meant to say I love you and what that entailed, the willingness to struggle, to be kind when you disagree, to forgive and say sorry to be willing to grow and love again. We looked at each other that day like the “we” of us was as strong and alive as if just met and a history and time together that made it feel unsinkable. It felt deeper and stronger than anything I had ever known. 

Sometimes you have to have a real big fight to know how much you love someone. You have to learn how to fight fair and forgive. And once you have forgiven you have to let it go. You can’t have shadows that you hold on to and use them in the next fight.  That will never work. I know. When you get an apology that is sincere, you either are ready or not to say “you are forgiven.” and then it is over.  Over.  The past.  And you have to learn how to love and laugh again and trust as well.  And live in the day, the moment together.  Keep it fresh and exciting.  And so my stories for you dear IF readers, Cat Wayland

Dear IF readers,

This month is quite a large subject - love, divorce and blended families.  Somehow, I got my welcome letter to only a few paragraphs so as to not overwhelm the reader.  Now maybe on our blog I can take these large subjects apart one by one.

Love. Love in the context of love is one thing. Love in the contect of divorce and the blended family is quite another thing.

Love in the context of love seems natural.  It seems a part of nature for one living organism to be attracted to another living organism.  Energy finding energy to create something larger.  Love as energy.  Love as attraction.  Attraction that is sexual, platonic, or nurturing.

To love someone and mate.

To love someone and form a friendship.

To love someone and nurture a child.

Love in the context of divorce seems like energy gone wrong. Too much.  Too little.  Too chaotic and disorganized. Bad energy.  Divorce is to struggle, fight, seperate, dissociate.

Some divorces go well. Some divorces go very badly. In a divorce that goes well, the two entities seperate without too much of a struggle.  There is a coming together and a moving apart.  Energy flows. In a divorce that goes badly, it is like energy that spins, and sputters, and fires, and expodes. 

I have 2 divorces in my immediate family that went badly. 1 example of that is a divorce in which one person wanted it and the other did not.  The struggle of the one to hold on continues to this day.  The husband wanted the divorce, seperated and moved on.  The ex-wife mourned for the next 20 years.  Love gone.  Energy wasted.

The other divorce that went badly was even more complex.  The person who wanted the divorce, got it and did not let go.  She wanted the divorce and then wanted more money and wanted full custody.  So this person wanted the other person out of her life but wanted to have the person she left abandon their shared children and then pay exhorbitant amounts of money to her and the children that he would never get to see ever again.  Strange.  Love that becomes hate.  Energy gone wild, bad, disordered, chaotic.

I have an example of a divorce that went well.  The two persons divorced with ease and understanding and kept the friendship that had sustained them many years.  Energy sustained and thrived.  Love transformed but constant.  A natural flow of love and energy.

Love and divorce and the blended family. Our writer Daphne talks about the blended family that goes badly.  A parent neglects the children of a divorce.  They associate the failure with the child and transfer the dissociation of the spouse onto the children.  Children as collateral damage of love gone bad.  A human being as collateral damage is an unnatural flow of love and energy.  And the children carry that bad love energy wherever they go.  The bad love energy is on a continuum until the children interrupt that with new information, new love, new energy.

The blended family that goes well is love that is doubled and tripled and multiplied.  It is love and energy that flows in and out of the new love of the new couple forming after divorce.  One divorcee marries another person or another divorcee and join the families and children.  The new love is energizing and attentive and the children blend and tranform into new energy with the love.  This would be love and divorce and the blended family in its most ideal form.

Wow.  Alot said. So many questions remain. I myself find divorce a tough subject.  For some because of abuse, mental illness or addiction it is a necessary step so that love and energy can thrive.  For others it seems like love gone inward, unnatural, selfish and harmful to the community around them.  Like robbing the energy available to fill a person that is unfillable.  People that cannot love themselves looking endlessly for that love outside themselves that creates the chaos, bad energy, and struggle that simply mirrors their own interior self and no one elses.  Narcissim.  A love and energy that is destructive.

Good reading, Cat Wayland

Dear IF readers,

It is my countdown in March to my birthday and this one - 42 years of age. If I am lucky enough to live until 84, this will be my midlife. What are my great challenges in this midlife???? GRAVITY GRAVITY GRAVITY. After wishing for things in my 20s, I now find myself carrying many things. I carry a marriage and kids around all day. I carry a career around all day. I carry investments around all day. I carry things that I must care for around all day, car, wallet, belongings. Some of these things are heavier than others. And so GRAVITY as I understand it in my midlife is a pulling back to the earth. I have jumped high and now my body is pulling pulling pulling down with so much weight at the things I am holding in my arms. That which goes up, must come down. I fantasize now about unloading everything in my arms and taking a good, long nap. On the ground, in the bright sun, mid-afternoon without a care in the world. Mostly my 4 year old who still insists on being carried because “his legs are tired” won’t let this happen. Not yet. And so I trudge along, thinking about GRAVITY. And resisting the urge to just wear my pajamas all day and take naps. I think if you have lived a good full life, old age and dying comes easily because you are ready for the next generation to take over and you are finally just TIRED. GRAVITY. Midlife is my contemplation of GRAVITY. Here is to a good long nap, Cat

Dear Mom,

Read your column. You got the right idea, but there are usually a few more scheduled activities for the kids (Sunday is never that light). I often think about the fact that my childhood was much more like you describe, and I think we are making a big mistake to focus our entire lives around our children rather than letting them do some things on their own. No wonder kids today think they’re the center of the universe–everything we do tells them they are.
Marc

A Sweet Story About A Youthful Youth
By Grandma Ellen

Over the weekend we traveled to my hometown, St. Louis, to attend a family event celebrating the fourth daughter of my cousin. The event was a Bat Mitzvah, a term that means “Daughter of the Commandment” and signifies the demarcation between childhood and young adulthood in Judaism.

Over the course of the weekend, there was ample opportunity for Ariel’s parents and sisters to share their thoughts about her with the invited guests. What they said reveals a remarkable person, one who is thoughtful, concerned about others, generous and kind. And bubbly and of great good humor, to boot.

The picture painted of Ariel by her older sisters brought to life a young girl from whom they all learned lessons about how to conduct their own lives. The portrait was enough to make one wish there were millions of Ariels abroad in the land. Just one anecdote related by her eldest sister, now 21, will give the reader a sense of who she is and why they treasure her as they do.

It is a family tradition to invite Ariel’s grandfather for dinner on Friday night. One such evening, when Ariel was five, the conversation got around to the fact that her grandfather had retired and could now spend more time at his house in the woods, a stunning award-winning modernist structure. From fairy tales, Ariel knew that there were castles and there were houses in the woods. And the fairy tale houses in the woods were sorry shacks, for the most part. When Ariel heard that her grandfather lived in what,in her mind, was a poor woodsman’s hut, she excused herself from the table. She was gone for quite some time and when she came back to the dining room, she set in front of her beloved grandfather all the bills and coins that she had been saving in her piggy bank and said, “Here, Grandpa. Please use this to buy yourself a nice house.” A king’s ransom could not have been more gratefully accepted.

Ariel is twelve years old now, and she has shared the contents of her ‘piggy bank’ many times with people who needed help. And she has also shared the contents of her heart.

Dear IF readers,

I have mentioned movies many times in this blog. I recommend everything wonderful, especially films. I am a film fanatic. Sometimes I go to films up to twice a week. And recently I went to see Slumdog Millionaire, it did not disappoint.

I guess my only complaint is that many foreign films that make it to the mainstream U.S., have a tragic and sad side. So I will have to begin to hunt for the ones that are more happy. There is my favorite, Wings of Desire, that is quite happy in parts (German, Wim Wender). And Slumdog Millionaire did end happily - the guy gets the girl and gets the money. But it takes a long, crooked and yes, violent path to get there.

It is a movie about the slums of Mumbai and the unfortunate youth that wander there, looking for food and their survival. But intertwined in one particular youth’s story is his participation as a contestant of “I want to be a Millionaire” Indian style, and his journey to the winnings. With each question that the young man Jamal answers, the path to the right answer is a memory from his life.

There is an awful killing of his mother that he witnesses and life on the run with his brother and a little girl Latika, that becomes the love of his life. The brothers loyalty is challenged again and again until it fails. Latika is taken by multiple crime bosses as a service provider and punching bag. As movie watchers, we see life for these children, and the life of Mumbai.

Slumdog Millionaire was co-directed by Danny Boyle U.K., and Loveleen Tandan, India. Danny Boyle seems to like a good story and yes, has highlighted other dark sides of life like heroin addicts in Trainspotting. Tandan has worked on other films such as Monsoon Wedding about a New Delhi wedding, and is interested in highlighting the varying textures of Indian life and culture.

It is so good to see life elsewhere even when the story makes us uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable with the movie because I always thought parts of my youth had been extremely uncomfortable and painful and exploited and really, my life was a cake walk compared to the little boys whose eyes are filled with acid so that he can earn more money as a beggar for a slum lord. It is good to walk in someone else’s shoes, no matter how difficult the journey. Here is to taking walks together, Cat Wayland IF mag

Dear IF readers,

These social networking sites are sometimes wonderful, and sometimes complicated. If they are complicated, they are too much work for someone like me. But not Facebook. Facebook is the most awesome tool of communication for me in a long time. I posted my page and profile and picture and secured a user name and password. And friends that I thought I lost touch with, are popping out of the internet walls. It is wonderful.

In the last month, a childhood friend from my youth popped up, Willa. Willa returned to West Africa, after many years in the U.S. She first came to the U.S. due to unrest in her homeland of Africa. And now she is back to be part of the reconstruction and growth and to give her 3 boys a culture and history that she loved so much before the trouble so many years ago.

And she said hello on Facebook to me one day. And we began to catch up these 30 years lost to one another since last we saw each other at a boarding school in Albany, New York. And Willa helped to fill in my memories for me. She reminded me that we had been at a first boarding school together in Middleburg, Virginia. I was only 12 years old at the time, so it is so fuzzy.

I was at Notre Dame Academy because my father was a devout Catholic. The sisters of Notre Dame went against Vatican II and still lived in a cloistered way of life. Unfortunately I was not overly Catholic, I was of the more Christian, liberal leanings, even at a young age. Eventually I wound up in the Unitarian Universalist church where all teachings and all texts are examined, be it Old and New Testament, The Koran, Buddhism, etcetera. I am still there and very involved today. I think if Christ were alive today, he would be Unitarian. It is my opinion that Jesus loved everybody and hated exclusive clubs. I can’t imagine Christ wanted anyone to fight or die over a text, a doctrine, a belief in clothing, or eating certain foods. When I think of Christ, he is the greatest image of love and forgiveness. And so, I think he would be a groovy, peace loving Unitarian.

Anyways, Willa remembered the names of the nuns, and how we had been 7 day boarders together and our families had been in NJ at the time and on and on. How wonderful that someone has your details when you have forgotten them. I only remembered the name of one nun, Sister Naomi as she focused on me as a lost youth that she struggled with and became quite agitated by.

The rest is a blur of chores, and demerits and an eventual parting of the ways after a religious debate in the headmistress office with my father, myself and a jury of sisters in front of us. I had to leave the school because of my liberalism. It was a loss and a victory for me that day. I would miss my friends. I worried that I had terribly disappointed my father. But I could hardly wait for broader horizons. I was 14 years old and kicked out of my first school for theological reasons.

Willa ended up at Doane Stuart School in Albany, New York because her cousin Klade was there. I ended up at Doane Stuart because it was co-ed and liberal and my father needed to find some place for me that was a “fit”. He didn’t have time to replace me at many schools for the next years. It was the beginning of my father and my silent compromises. And I graduated from Doane Stuart and was very happy there. I remember Willa very much at Doane Stuart because I was happy there and a little older.

I am so glad Willa popped up on my Facebook. Facebook is bringing back my youth and friends and allowing my life’s holes to be filled with details and faces and friendship. And now, I get to hear of Willa’s wonderful adventures and raising a family in West Africa. I have already told her I would like to bring my boys there in the summer. It is the rainy season there in the summer. I will figure out how to make it work. What a grand experience for my boys, Jax and Brody. Wonderful, thanks Facebook, Cat Wayland IF mag

Dear IF readers,

Lately my father has been talking about his friends passing on. I know he is reflective of his own mortality and so I reflect on it as well. My father is 74 years old this July and it would seem realistic to say this is his last decade on Earth. I remember being around my son Jax’s age of 6 and realizing for the first time that my parents would die someday, and I wept and was desperate. My own sons sometimes talk about me dying and they get terribly scared and upset. I have reassured them that I will live until I am very old and they will be so busy with their own children they will barely notice. And I have also said that I intend to come back as a rabbit. And that if they go out and buy a rabbit after I have died, I am most certain that it will be me. This seems to relieve them.

I do not remember much about my grandfather. Very little. There were details like he was in the meat business and he owned an international radio and liked to make wine in his cellar that tasted terrible. But not much else except what my father and his sister, my Aunt Maureen told me. I found him large, and scary. I think about my father that has left such an imprint on my life and how my Jax knows some very small details like he has a dog, and he has blue eyes. Right now in my life there are so many people I know for different reasons, but someday I will know fewer and fewer and some day only my sons, and husband and a small circle of friends. And then my sons will have children and they will know small details about me as well.

The cycle of life is so short I am just starting to realize that. My aging, my father’s aging and the memory of my grandfather reminds me to live live live while there is still the opportunity. What I know about being a mom is that I find it more palatable to offer my children a stable home and a predictable routine because I have had so many adventures that I am impassioned still by their memories. I will have to make so many more memories to make aging, death and dying worth it. Maybe then I will be ready to rest and wait and remember and smile at all my memories. I hope so. Here is to your memories, Cat Wayland

Dear Ellen

I´m very happy to say I am a “natural resource”, something I never considered before. Thank you. It´s great not to be just an senior citizen giving a helping hand because he/she has nothing else to do with their time. I really enjoyed your article.

Will write later–when I tear my eyes away from CNN, Israel, ponzi schemes, stock losses, etc.

Love,

Laura

Dear IF readers,

Last night I went to see the “Curious Case of Benjamin Button” in U.S. film distribution starring Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett. It imagines a disease in which the character Benjamin is born old and ugly as a baby in which the mother dies in child birth and is abandoned by the distressed father on the steps of an aging home. He is raised by a loving black woman who he calls “mama” for his lifetime and there at the home he meets Daisy who will become his life soulmate.

The focus on aging backwards such that Brad Pitt becomes beautiful and “perfect” as he is referred to at his age 48 rather than 25 is interesting because it emphasizes the life cycle as a perfect circle. Even though so called normal babies are pretty they are as dependent as people who are infirmed and dying. Even though someone who is much older in the last years of his life is wrinkled and calloused and “ugly” as referred to in the movie, he or she is beautiful and unique and as innocent as a babe.

I remember one of my most poignant jobs was to care for aging nuns in a part of my boarding school across the hall from where my dorm room. The sisters of the Sacred Heart were the landlords, property owners and retained a part of the building as their own for their infirmary and assisted living for aged nuns. Three afternoons a week, I would leave my youthful dwellings, filled with noise and boisterous teenage behavior and go to a quiet, sterile smelling corridor.

What astonished me the most and left an imprint forever on me was that in caring for the nuns in changing and bathing them how much their bodies were soft and looked like babies. And as tiny babies, their lives focused on the very simple things of life - food, warmth, comfort, rest. There was a vulnerability and innocence that I found requested me to nurture, protect and defend it. And I felt honored.

The most special part of the work was that many many of the nuns though physically disabled still had their minds intact. And their stories, and gratitude was so generous it was the most rewarding work I had ever done in my short years as a teenage in front of counters and cash registers and poolside.

The movie, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” reminded me of those nuns, and that special time in my life. There is a line in the movie that struck me and it was roughly, “that when people passed there was a quietness to the house”. It seems appropriate that when an energy has gone away or moved that in its place is quiet. And in those moments of quiet we can reflect on what that energy gave or took away from the universe and what life it had passed through on its way.

In the end of the movie I reflected on the curiousity of people’s interpretations and my own: what was lucky or unlucky, what was fate or accident, what was beautiful or ugly, what was fair or unfair, what was forgiveable or unforgiveable, what was young and what was old. I was glad for a movie that interpreted aging as beautiful. And so I hope January at IF mag celebrates age alongside this lovely movie, good reading, Cat Waylnd