11/19/2025
On the anniversary of
BJ leaving the earth-
thinking of her.
Eulogy for BJ:
by Dr Joyce Maguire Pavao
(this was my first draft, as
I added thoughts and changed
things in the moment)
One of the many defining things
that BJ was – she was adopted.
And we all know– those of us
who are adopted ones –
that the world infantilizes us
and constantly refers to us
as ‘adopted children’.
Even when we are 30, 40,
50, 70 and on.
BJ was ‘an adopted child’ and it is fitting that she be referred to that way, because she kept a clear and present focus on children,
on children’s issues,
and on children’s literature.
I met BJ in 1975.
She had published Twice Born,
and I was doing some research
into adoption, and I had
met my birth mother just
a few years before.
I gobbled up her book,
put it down, and wrote her a letter.
(this was before
email and facebook- snail mail)
She responded in kind,
and we became friends,
colleagues, clinicians,
and crusaders for civil rights
in adoption.
BJ was a wise woman,
and she was an amazing
and magical writer.
She was referred to recently
as “the Gloria Steinem of adoption”.
She saw things through a prism
vision, that included more than
what most people saw,
or wanted to see,
in the world of adoption.
She was a pioneer.
When my daughter was small, BJ would set her up to paint and to read when we went to dinner at the Lifton’s compound in Wellfleet.
There was always a space for children to be creative, and to tend to her many animals and iggys ( BJ’s iguanas were always named iggy) they lounged about.
BJ would always have a magical amulet, a tiny gift of some exotic nature, and often a small card with a tale she had woven to
match the item.
I have a collection of the BJ
amulets and of the tales.
One of my favorite tales is the one about ‘my possible self’...
she gave me two large cloth dolls:
▪ one was who I would have been if I had stayed on the course that I came into the world on – my birth self.
▪ and the other was who I became in real life-my adopted self.
BJ stated that ‘our possible selves’,
as adopted ones,
had a huge influence on our
current selves,
and only by bringing
them together would
we be whole.
Some afternoons in Wellfleet,
we would walk on the beach
with one of the early poodles...
before Basket, before Jingly...I
forget the name of those early dogs...
and BJ would tell my daughter, Seacia, the story of ‘Anne and the Sand Dobbies’ by John B. Coburn.
When BJ died, I thought of the Sand Dobbies - just as I had thought of them, and talked to her about them last summer when Maui (her precious
Devon Rex cat) went missing and was feared dead.
Luckily, Maui was tucked in a kitchen cabinet and very much alive.
(Quote here from book....
Anne and the Sand Dobbies...)
BJ spoke at many adoption
conferences nationally and internationally.
She told stories in her
magical voice, of the
Ghost Kingdom
and of the Deep Sleep
that people go into,
when their lives are taken
from them, and are made secret.
She told stories of brave
people, who saved children
and brave children,
who asked questions and
found the truth, and saved
the grownups.
BJ was a storyteller.
She was also a story.
She gave us her story.
Her life.
Her wonderings.
And she gave us our own stories.
BJ made an amazing difference
in the lives of adopted people, birthparents,
adoptive parents,
and professionals.
She never wavered in her beliefs,
and in her stand for human rights
in adoption.
She helped the individuals
that she spoke with,
testified with,
did therapy with,
worked with, and
played with, and
she helped the adoption
reform movement.
Her indelible mark is on everything
that has evolved in adoption reform.
BJ may have left us, but she has bequeathed us a passion for the truth.
My Summer Conference… there were 30 years of it!…The ARC Summer Intensives...she always came.
It was in Provincetown.
BJ Always needed afternoon keynote time...She talked of Owl’s and Larks –she was an owl.
The conference is going to be
dedicated to her.
I once found a book at one of those used bookstores on Rte 6A in
Brewster or Barnstable.
It was called ‘Queen of the Air’,
and it was illustrated by
someone like Rackham.
I gave it to BJ, because even the way she walked seemed as if she was floating.
She was the Queen of the Air.
When she died, she stopped
doing things visibly,
but the real BJ –
the Sand Dobbie part of her –
her possible self, and her real self –
is in the dunes and
the seagrass and
the ocean and in
her beloved New York
and all around us.
because BJ will always be.
BJ Lifton Eulogy
January 29, 2011
By Dr Joyce Maguire Pavao
