So sad the mis diagnosis! Not sure with brain tumor how much diference it would make but youwould hope!
Such a nice girl! Strange that the Doc wanted her to go to a psych! Took my diabetic wife to Skokie Valley Hospital suffering from low blood sugar. Told the ER Doc she was diabetic and something related to it was why she was acting drunk like. The ER doc said it was a case of CLASSIC HYSTERIA and was sending us to a Shrink when my mothers Dr happened to see me in the ER. He immediatly took blood, saw she had low blood sugar, gave her a glucose injection and she was normal in about one minute!!
Dr's can be scarry. Fortunatly I don't need them often but GET ME a SECOND OPINION!
Liz was my best friend at College Hill, and we remained close through ETHS. We both went to Lawrence and ended up in the same off-campus house sophomore year. (Residents tended to iron their hair, smoke French cigarettes, wear black, and major in English. I'm not saying that we were pretentious, but....!) She was a lovely and talented person, and great fun to have as a friend. I still miss her. She was gone far, far too soon.
I remember Liz from College Hill days and through high school. She was an exceptional person--kind, caring and interesting. I never remember her saying a bad word about anyone. Liz was somehow above the fray, demonstrating class and refinement.
In high school, she was Bohemian--not eccentric, just simply the kind of person who marched to her own drummer. And she wasn't caught up in what others thought, which for most of us was a big part of the high school experience. I tried to learn this from her, but it was difficult.
She went to the high school prom with Brian Rose, who dropped out of high school. After the prom a group of us went to the London House, and I remember seeing her and Brian there. I believe Erroll Garner was performing.
I had heard years ago that she died of breast cancer, which I guess was incorrect. Her father was a well known ob-gyn physician. I was surprised to hear she went to incompentent physician and didn't seek a second opinion. I would have thought that she would have been medically astute, given that her father was a physician.
I am proud to say she was my friend and I wish she were still here.
I didn't know Liz as well as you did, Art. And I didn't remember seeing her at the London House. I was touched by your tribute. Coming on this day of remembrance, it was especially moving.
I believe I can shed a bit of light here. Liz and I were very close friends, and stayed close through college. I saw her for the last time after college, in New York, and said good bye to her on 42nd Street as she was moving to Los Angeles to get married to Robert Brown, who I had never met. Perhaps my sadness was that I realized too late that I really did love her, and here she was leaving to marry someone else.
At ETHS, we became close friends as she was working on the Yearbook staff, and I was working across the hall on the Evanstonian newspaper. Together with Roy Gutman, (feature editor of the paper) our great joy was to bring the paper to the typesetter, which we would sometimes do at night. It was exotic and romantic and away from our parents prying eyes, and we made of this intoxicating freedom what we could. And we got the newspaper to the printer as well.
I have so much to say here about Liz. I have a book of poems that she wrote in L.A., "A Language of Wolves", "poems by Elizabeth Brown" is it's title. Her mother gave it to me years later. Stuck inside the book is a printout of a story, an obit really, Friday, October 9, 1997 in the Boston Globe written by her husband, Robert E. Brown, which is titled "Loss on a Jewish Holiday". The poems and the Globe article give ample evidence of two young people very much in love with each other. I just went to the Boston Globe archives to try to find a link, but was unsuccessful, though I didn't spend very long, being anxious to write this. This from Robert's story in the Globe..." Twenty-three (sic) autumns ago I was widowed. My young wife died quite unexpectedly at 28 years old of a rapidly growing and undetected tumor".
I've got a lot more to say or write here, but it's truly gratifying to me that so many remember her so fondly after all this time. She left an indelible impression on me as well. I have several other stories in which she plays a prominent role.....
This from the 1997 Boston Globe story, written many year later, by her husband Robert E. Brown, titled "Loss on a Jewish Holiday".
"In her brief years Elizabeth was known as a fine writer and a published poet. In high school, she won a national award for her essay on Walt Whitman. I saved the book she earned, a biography of the bearded poet. In college she was the editor of the literary magazine. Later, when we met, she fussed over my own poems and praised them, which was typical of her." and he continues: "When we married and moved to Los Angeles, Elizabeth developed a correspondence with the famous diarist Anais Nin, who had begun her own literary career by buying a printing press and publishing her own books on it. Inspired by Anais Nin, Elizabeth and I purchased a printing press, and she taught herself to set type by hand. I still have a photo of Elizabeth in a gray printer's smock with her pockets full of metal letters. In her short time with that little printing press, Elizabeth managed to publish by hand 400 copies of a poetry magazine called openspaces. (sic) Like leaves blown by the wind, a few of those little magazines were mailed to Grolier's bookstore in Harvard Square. Elizabeth never got to see them on the bookshelves. But after she died in 1974, I came to Cambridge and saw them in the bookstore shop. "...........
He concludes this way....."When the rabbi blows the final notes to end the high holidays, I will look around me at the rows of smartly dressed children and young husbands and wives, and I will remember Elizabeth with her inky pockets full of unwritten poems.
And my heart will fall open again to a paradoxical bookmark of sadness and repentance and gratitude." Well said, Robert.
I only knew Liz Tulsky superficially, but she seemed far more self assured and comfortable inside her skin than I was in mine in those days. I do regret I didn't know her better. But thanks to you, Stan, for sharing those images with us. Your admiration for her talent and spirit shines through, and you've given us a sense of her impact on the lives of those she loved and those who loved her.
Why can't I get this thing to paragraph properly? is it set up for Twitter only? Well anyway, Hi Margie and how the heck are you. Thanks, BTW, writing is hard work I've found, and the only joy in it comes from having it read. So I remember you somehow from post college years, through Leo, ?? You were at DePaul? Or am I mistooken...
Sherwin "Jay" Siegall
So sad the mis diagnosis! Not sure with brain tumor how much diference it would make but youwould hope!
Such a nice girl! Strange that the Doc wanted her to go to a psych! Took my diabetic wife to Skokie Valley Hospital suffering from low blood sugar. Told the ER Doc she was diabetic and something related to it was why she was acting drunk like. The ER doc said it was a case of CLASSIC HYSTERIA and was sending us to a Shrink when my mothers Dr happened to see me in the ER. He immediatly took blood, saw she had low blood sugar, gave her a glucose injection and she was normal in about one minute!!
Dr's can be scarry. Fortunatly I don't need them often but GET ME a SECOND OPINION!
Liz, youdeserved better!!
Lesley Mentgen (Delmenico)
Liz was my best friend at College Hill, and we remained close through ETHS. We both went to Lawrence and ended up in the same off-campus house sophomore year. (Residents tended to iron their hair, smoke French cigarettes, wear black, and major in English. I'm not saying that we were pretentious, but....!) She was a lovely and talented person, and great fun to have as a friend. I still miss her. She was gone far, far too soon.
Arthur Gechman
I remember Liz from College Hill days and through high school. She was an exceptional person--kind, caring and interesting. I never remember her saying a bad word about anyone. Liz was somehow above the fray, demonstrating class and refinement.
In high school, she was Bohemian--not eccentric, just simply the kind of person who marched to her own drummer. And she wasn't caught up in what others thought, which for most of us was a big part of the high school experience. I tried to learn this from her, but it was difficult.
She went to the high school prom with Brian Rose, who dropped out of high school. After the prom a group of us went to the London House, and I remember seeing her and Brian there. I believe Erroll Garner was performing.
I had heard years ago that she died of breast cancer, which I guess was incorrect. Her father was a well known ob-gyn physician. I was surprised to hear she went to incompentent physician and didn't seek a second opinion. I would have thought that she would have been medically astute, given that her father was a physician.
I am proud to say she was my friend and I wish she were still here.
Art Gechman
Rosanne Bass (Keynan)
I didn't know Liz as well as you did, Art. And I didn't remember seeing her at the London House. I was touched by your tribute. Coming on this day of remembrance, it was especially moving.
Arthur Gechman
Brian Rose wrote me to tell me he was not Liz's prom date. I must have gotten a couple of memories crossed.
Stanley Bratman
I believe I can shed a bit of light here. Liz and I were very close friends, and stayed close through college. I saw her for the last time after college, in New York, and said good bye to her on 42nd Street as she was moving to Los Angeles to get married to Robert Brown, who I had never met. Perhaps my sadness was that I realized too late that I really did love her, and here she was leaving to marry someone else.
At ETHS, we became close friends as she was working on the Yearbook staff, and I was working across the hall on the Evanstonian newspaper. Together with Roy Gutman, (feature editor of the paper) our great joy was to bring the paper to the typesetter, which we would sometimes do at night. It was exotic and romantic and away from our parents prying eyes, and we made of this intoxicating freedom what we could. And we got the newspaper to the printer as well.
I have so much to say here about Liz. I have a book of poems that she wrote in L.A., "A Language of Wolves", "poems by Elizabeth Brown" is it's title. Her mother gave it to me years later. Stuck inside the book is a printout of a story, an obit really, Friday, October 9, 1997 in the Boston Globe written by her husband, Robert E. Brown, which is titled "Loss on a Jewish Holiday". The poems and the Globe article give ample evidence of two young people very much in love with each other. I just went to the Boston Globe archives to try to find a link, but was unsuccessful, though I didn't spend very long, being anxious to write this. This from Robert's story in the Globe..." Twenty-three (sic) autumns ago I was widowed. My young wife died quite unexpectedly at 28 years old of a rapidly growing and undetected tumor".
I've got a lot more to say or write here, but it's truly gratifying to me that so many remember her so fondly after all this time. She left an indelible impression on me as well. I have several other stories in which she plays a prominent role.....
Stanley Bratman
This from the 1997 Boston Globe story, written many year later, by her husband Robert E. Brown, titled "Loss on a Jewish Holiday".
"In her brief years Elizabeth was known as a fine writer and a published poet. In high school, she won a national award for her essay on Walt Whitman. I saved the book she earned, a biography of the bearded poet. In college she was the editor of the literary magazine. Later, when we met, she fussed over my own poems and praised them, which was typical of her." and he continues: "When we married and moved to Los Angeles, Elizabeth developed a correspondence with the famous diarist Anais Nin, who had begun her own literary career by buying a printing press and publishing her own books on it. Inspired by Anais Nin, Elizabeth and I purchased a printing press, and she taught herself to set type by hand. I still have a photo of Elizabeth in a gray printer's smock with her pockets full of metal letters. In her short time with that little printing press, Elizabeth managed to publish by hand 400 copies of a poetry magazine called openspaces. (sic) Like leaves blown by the wind, a few of those little magazines were mailed to Grolier's bookstore in Harvard Square. Elizabeth never got to see them on the bookshelves. But after she died in 1974, I came to Cambridge and saw them in the bookstore shop. "...........
He concludes this way....."When the rabbi blows the final notes to end the high holidays, I will look around me at the rows of smartly dressed children and young husbands and wives, and I will remember Elizabeth with her inky pockets full of unwritten poems.
And my heart will fall open again to a paradoxical bookmark of sadness and repentance and gratitude." Well said, Robert.
Pauline Noznick (Gerstein)
What a wonderful tribute to a wonderful person. Thank you Stan for your comments about Liz.
Marjorie Leopold
I only knew Liz Tulsky superficially, but she seemed far more self assured and comfortable inside her skin than I was in mine in those days. I do regret I didn't know her better. But thanks to you, Stan, for sharing those images with us. Your admiration for her talent and spirit shines through, and you've given us a sense of her impact on the lives of those she loved and those who loved her.
Stanley Bratman
Why can't I get this thing to paragraph properly? is it set up for Twitter only? Well anyway, Hi Margie and how the heck are you. Thanks, BTW, writing is hard work I've found, and the only joy in it comes from having it read. So I remember you somehow from post college years, through Leo, ?? You were at DePaul? Or am I mistooken...