Author Archives: Elizabeth Boleman-Herring

“Because I paid for Ouzo, I claimed naming rights and, though he had no ‘papers,’ we knew he had a pedigree. Ouzo was a pure-bred dalmatian, with all the havoc such breeding (such over-breeding) entails, and so I gave him a name with some history, some weight. Because he was both sweet and strong, he […]

“Though Steadman and I—on those so very rare occasions when we meet—are more or less overcome, for the duration of our time together, and all but speechless, remembering our mutual losses, we also comprise, for one another, unique reservoirs of memory. At 68 and 85, respectively, Steadman and I have been actors in the family […]

“Throughout the land, Democrats and Independents alike await (like Godot) the reappearance of Special Counsel Robert Swan ‘Bob’ Mueller III, who, we pray (to no one in particular) will come forth, sooner rather than later, to present evidence of Trump, Pence, Trump campaign members, and Russian operatives’ coordinated efforts to throw our last presidential election. […]

“Because I paid for Ouzo, I claimed naming rights and, though he had no ‘papers,’ we knew he had a pedigree. Ouzo was a pure-bred dalmatian, with all the havoc such breeding (such over-breeding) entails, and so I gave him a name with some history, some weight. Because he was both sweet and strong, he […]

“Iyengar Yoga master-teacher, Kofi Busia, writes: ‘Health is not, and cannot be, an individual affair. It is a community—indeed, a cosmic—affair. Individuation is the root cause of all suffering. A community, even a yoga community, sickens when its individual members do not extend the bonds of unity to one another through the exercise awareness and […]

“The year of work was intense and solitary. Helen, on her coast, set me tasks; I, on the other coast, took them on. One involved visualizing the mindful subtraction—element by element—of parts of my physical body, until . . . what, finally, was left? It would be inappropriate to document this meditation, in full, here, […]

“What I do remember, and perhaps few others are alive to share these memories now, is that, before the tourists, came the painters. Greece, and the Cyclades in particular, with their ethereal, stunning light, called artists forth from all over the world. Luis and Lilly were not alone, painting in cold island studios in 1960. […]

“He was old when last I saw him. He’d quit fighting the mirror. His hair was clipped short, unlike the Cinnabon concoction of the 70s. No more that hopeful objet trouvé swirling over the noble dome. No more the lie. He was heavy, like an old boxer; like Hemingway, top-heavy. And he wore that red, […]

“Affliction is a well-visited destination, but one on no one’s published itinerary. Our visas are universally stamped (in invisible ink) at birth (and, often, before birth) in our mutable flesh. But, until we arrive at the border and gaze over the wall, we have no true notion of what to expect. Some of us are […]

“On the first of January, though, these dreams abruptly ceased after my husband and I drove north, out of Florida, through Georgia, and on up into the Piedmont of South Carolina. Drove home, in fact, though I was born elsewhere, and have lived only nine of my 66 years in the birthplace of my mother […]