3B
Magazine Editor:
Karl Williams
Deputy Editor:
Nabeel Chollampat
Design Editor:
Shane Achenbach
Photo Editor:
Zoey Holmstrom
Creative Director:
Emilie Farrugia
Editor in Chief:
Shoham Geva
Managing Editor:
Laura Schinagle
Copy Editors:
Emily Campbell
Alexis Nowicki
Jose Rosales
THE statement
The summer before my senior year of high school, I began intern-
ing at a local newspaper. In addition to making copies and transcrib-
ing interviews, I spent much of my time proofreading and formatting
pages and pages of obituaries.
Common reactions to my position would include: “Why would you
willingly do that, Lara?” or “I would get too depressed!”
And I did at first. But aside from my willingness to endure anything
that took me one step closer to my dreams of becoming a professional
journalist, I eventually told people the job was growing on me.
And it was.
Over time, the sometimes morbid and monotonous task became an
opportunity to sift through war stories, academic and professional
paths, passions and activist causes. I learned about the many lives
people touched and the impacts they left behind. I remember telling
myself that summer that I would one day write an obituary for some-
one who left an immeasurable impact on my own life.
Now seems like the right time.
For Aunt Paula:
I’ve always worried too much. My best friends nicknamed me “mom”
sometime between seventh and eighth grade for my general tendency
to overthink things, and as I grew older, my worries took the form of
grade anxiety. I became the second semester senior in high school
who couldn’t stop thinking about an exam until after I’d received my
grade because what if I failed, and what if Michigan post-rejected me?
Anyone who shares similar stress knows that a decent amount of
worry stems from the inability to accept stress itself. Is it normal for
me to worry this much? Am I worrying about this enough? And so on.
One day when I was 11 or 12, my mom asked me: “Do you know who
worries as much as you? Your Aunt Paula.”
She had no idea at the time just how much that comment would
affect me, but it really did. It was as if knowing that someone I had
always looked up to shared similar challenges somehow made my own
anxiety acceptable.
Aunt Paula, my mom’s older sister, lost an eight-year battle with
breast cancer at the age of 51 in 2013. The end of her life broke my
family in so many ways it’s hard to put into words, so I won’t attempt
to do that here. I will instead try to capture her genuine beauty and
strength as best I can.
Aunt Paula was a fast-talking, analytical perfectionist whose elec-
tric smile brightened any room — or mood — I was in.
She attended New York City Public Schools’ hyper-competitive
Stuyvesant High School before graduating near the top of her class at
the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Business. After
Wednesday, January 27, 2016 // The Statement
PHOTO COVER BY ZOEY HOLMSTROM/PHOTO COVER ILLUSTRATION BY SHANE ACHENBACH
B Y L A R A M O E H L M A N
Zooming In: For Aunt Paula
earning her MBA from Columbia, she led a long and successful career in banking
and software development.
But Aunt Paula was so much more to me than an inspiration; she was a mix
between my second mother, my best friend and my guidance counselor. When girls
were mean and boys were weird, Aunt Paula would relate, sympathize and encour-
age me to push through the awkward years. She took me clothes shopping and
tutored me in math at her kitchen table. Together we would obsess over our favorite
episodes of “Gilmore Girls” and then read through the 2013 “Fiske Guide to Col-
leges.”
I still struggle to come to terms with her death because, for so long, it seemed to
me that she was never sick. I now realize that for so many years she masked her own
stress and fear and nausea to protect those around her from feeling even a fraction
of the pain she did. Despite a severe diagnosis at the age of 43, my aunt continued to
get dressed for work, travel the world and make it to every family dinner, birthday
party, band concert and even field hockey game that she physically could.
Maybe my Aunt Paula was a superhero. But then again maybe she was just wor-
ried; worried that she would miss out on things
— worried that she would upset
those around her if she let her inner-anxieties show. I’d like to think my aunt’s anx-
ious perfectionism is what allowed her to fight such a scary disease and live life
to its fullest for eight years. Over time, I’ve come to accept that my own anxiety is
what drives me toward my personal goals.
I don’t know for sure, but I doubt I’ll ever stop worrying about the small things.
Then again, I never want to.
COURTESY OF LARA MOEHLMAN