Menu
Search by Name
Search by Name
ELIZABETH EWEN Obituary
To plant trees in memory, please visit the Sympathy Store.
Memories and Condolences
for ELIZABETH EWEN
Sponsored by Paul Ewen.
Carol M Bellows
April 25, 2025
Her book, Picture Windows, profoundly affected my practices of urban design and planning. Ms. Ewen is sitting on my shoulder and guiding me as Oregon throws out its planning laws in a housing "emergency." How I wish I had known her.
PAUL EWEN
May 26, 2022
It´s been 10 years too long. I miss you. I wish you were here.
Stuart Ewen
October 3, 2016
Still missing you. You are in my dreams and in my heart.
Moshe Benyamini
June 5, 2016
Dr. Ewen was my professor at college. One of the kindest, smartest and most wonderful people I have been honored to meet. Her light continues to shine brightly.
Moshe Benyamini
Stuart Ewen
May 31, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015
Paul Ewen
February 9, 2015
It is 11:31pm and I know that you would be up right now. It would be nice to call and talk to you. I love you Mom!!!
Paul Ewen
September 25, 2013
There are some days that are still very hard for me. Mom, I miss you so much. I want to see you and be around you. Today has been a hard day. I love you and wish that you were physically here. A day doesn't go by where you aren't in my head and in my heart.
Love-
Paul
Shawn Frederick
January 3, 2013
Liz, through humor and insight, helped me develop a coherent view of the world. She was my teacher; the teacher who helped me learn from the other teachers. I followed her around from class to class, gave her rides sometimes back to NYC from SUNY Old Westbury, and asked and listened and asked again for the two years (1975 to 1977) I was a student there. I knew I was fortunate then, but now approaching forty years later, I understand just how wonderfully fortunate I was and am. Thank you, Liz.
And Happy New Year to your family and friends.
Paul Ewen
December 21, 2012
I loved watching baseball and football games with my mom and dad. My mom was quite a fan of New York and Green Bay teams.
Paul Ewen
November 27, 2012
Paul Ewen
November 27, 2012
Paul Ewen
November 27, 2012
Paul Ewen
November 27, 2012
Paul Ewen
November 27, 2012
Paul Ewen
November 27, 2012
Paul Ewen
November 27, 2012
Paul Ewen
November 27, 2012
Paul Ewen
November 27, 2012
Paul Ewen
November 27, 2012
Stuart Ewen
November 7, 2012
Due to Hurricane Sandy Liz's memorial at SUNY College at Old Westbury has been rescheduled for November 13.
Tameeka Spann
October 26, 2012
Dr. Ewen was my college professor. She was very helpful, kind, and a great professor. Dr. Ewen will be missed.
October 8, 2012
Not a week goes by when I don't think of Liz, want to tell her something no one else will understand, or care much about. I'm so glad she will be honored at Old Westbury on Oct 30 from 1130 - 1pm by her former students and colleagues. There will be slide show too and for it I looked through all the extensive, amazing reviews we got for Picture Windows.
Rosalyn Baxandall
Stuart Ewen
October 7, 2012
For our anniversary, October 6.
Stuart Ewen
September 1, 2012
Losing Liz
I am a molecule floating in the infinite reaches of space.
My thoughts are the phantoms of neural circuitry, wired by nature an eon ago.
After Darwin all preceding ideas became irrelevant.
Life is an algorithm, an unremarkable set of instructions.
Or so I am told by the New York Times.
But when I am me, none of this matters.
It all feels so trivial, so empty.
My loss of you runs through me like tidal waves.
My thoughts of you are larger than the periodic tables of certainty.
I will carry your smiles with me, from the first to the last, for the rest of my days.
Kelly Flynn
August 22, 2012
Liz was one of the original modern women. I always admired her lip, her spunk, and her attitude -- all coupled with incredible smarts and kindness. She was an inspiration.
Adrienne Laws
August 22, 2012
I remember the first words Paul said to me when we met twenty two years ago. Early into our friendship, it became clear to me that words are important to him and as I got to know his family, I saw where that came from. I learned that both of his parents were published authors and was happy to be present when his maternal grandparents began publishing, too. This is a family that shares stories, tells history, writes songs and uses images to communicate. Liz and Stu gave us a thoughtful wedding gift that we have used many times in twenty years. As the inscription of our dictionary says, there are always debates over truth and meaning and in no family is this more true than with the Ewens.
One summer when Liz and Stu opened their Cape home to a group of us, I saw that Liz was living one of my fantasies. As the rest of us set out to the beach for the day, Liz was getting to work. On a book. With her best friend. On the Cape.
My knowledge of Liz is mainly as a star in Paul's constellation, but a bright one, a sustaining one, a teaching one and one who loved my friend into a spectacular human being.
Peace, Liz. There's a seat for you at the table.
Paul Ewen
August 20, 2012
We just got back from Truro. The Cape wasn't the same without her, but her presence was all around us always.
Love-
Paul
Beth Botshon
July 2, 2012
I was so sad to hear of Liz's passing. The moment I read the news, I was whisked from the hills of Oaxaca back to SUNY Old Westbury and the last conversation I shared with her. I remember it vividly. It was the end of Spring and we were both leaving for the day. Before heading for the parking lot to catch our rides, we stood outside together, enjoying the sun, admiring the day, talking about the history of the campus. What I loved so much about this conversation were the pauses. It's not often that you can share a moment of silence and reflect with a person whom you don't spend every day with. But she seemed to have this gift - to make people feel comfortable. That and her smile. She was just lovely.
Grief is such a strange thing. A few months ago, just after my daughter Lola was born, my mother passed away. I have never really experienced loss in my life, and this was sudden and unexpected, so it was very difficult. But my heart sank the most for her partner, Gary. His pain, I knew, was unimaginable, because he was her partner. They chose each other and shared everything and built a life together. Likewise, I cannot imagine the pain that you have felt, and are feeling now. I am so sorry for your loss, Stuart. Please know that I've been thinking of you these past weeks. I hope you and yours have found a few moments of peace.
It's cliché but it's true what they say - somehow it does become a little easier with time.
john schneidmuller
June 25, 2012
I will always remember Liz as a loving Grandmother, and for how Paul cherished his Mom.
Mike & Gale Flament
June 24, 2012
Reading all these loving and intimate tributes to Liz, Gale and I realize how little we knew her. And we feel sorely deprived. When our daughter, Gretel, married Paul thirteen years ago, we came to know Liz as the quiet mater familias who welcomed Gretel into their family with love and open arms, and cared for her as she would her own daughter. We were comforted to see Gretel safe in Liz's love, while we were nearly five hundred miles away. We will miss you, Elizabeth Ewen, both the Liz we knew, and the Liz en la lucha, as Phyllis put it. Safe home.
Stuart Ewen
June 15, 2012
Stuart Ewen
June 15, 2012
Stuart Ewen
June 15, 2012
Stuart Ewen
June 15, 2012
Stuart Ewen
June 15, 2012
Sam Ewen
June 14, 2012
I thank you all for the amazing thoughts, memories and creations. My mother was a unique woman and often we only see people as they are in our own personal frame of reference.
To hear how she affected so many others, in so many diverse ways, is a true blessing and gives me even more to love about her.
It makes myself and our family very happy to hear these beautiful words.
Julie Kaye Reich
June 13, 2012
Stuie and I have known each other since we were 12. He's been a very close and loving friend for many, many years. I remember when he took me on his motorcycle to the arboretum in Madison and told me he'd fallen madly in love with Liz. I think — no, I know — that Liz felt the same way about him.
In 1973, Stu, Liz, an angelic-looking Paul and a tiny sprite named Sam, stayed with us for a week in our small apartment in Paris. I had given birth to our first son, Gabriel, a scant month before. So I was pretty exhausted. One hot day, out of the blue, about half of the ANC in exile — I exaggerate a tad — friends of Pallo and Carolyn in London, showed up tired and hungry at our apartment. Liz and I ran to the market to buy some food, but by the time we returned, six large bodies were spread out on the floor, each snoozing with a newspaper covering their eyes. Paul and Sam were running around the bodies when an impeccably dressed man alighted from a very serious looking black Citroën DS and joined this insane Afternoon at the Opera. We never did find out exactly who he was, but he sure liked our paté.
Another memory of the Ewen family: In 1978 Chuck and I and our kids moved back to NYC from Paris. Stuie and Liz invited us for dinner that first weekend, and I said I'd bring dessert. It was snowing out, and I wasn't familiar with the neighborhood. I couldn't find a bakery, so I finally asked some guy on the street if he knew of one. He gave me a weird look, then pointed to a shop that looked ready to close. Breathlessly I asked if there were any cakes left. The response? “Yes, we have one vanilla v*, a chocolate p*, and a few rum balls.” I was so stunned — could America have changed so much in the last nine years? — that I couldn't talk, so I just pointed to the white cake, without really inspecting it. It was only on my way out of the shop that I saw the sign “The Erotic Bakery.' By the time we arrived, dessert in hand, at the Ewens, the whole saga came pouring out of me. We all laughed so much we couldn't breathe.
Our son Gaby, now a professor of education specializing in the teaching of social studies and history in high schools, cited the book on suburbia by Liz and Roz several times in a commentary recently accepted to an important education journal. I don't think Liz set much store in the field of education, but her analysis has major implications for defining and describing the demographic changes that have occurred since the ‘50s, and the use of this reformulation in education research.
Liz and I usually talked more about personal and familial issues than about more academic subjects. I was not really of that world, and anyway I knew we were usually on the same page. She was a close and generous listener, qualities I admired enormously.
And finally, I want to say that Liz and I drew closer together in the last few years. She opened up about some of the problems she was having with the aging of her body, the intensity of her pain, and the effects of treatments. Until that time, she NEVER talked about having cerebral palsy, never complained, even when dinner guests would talk casually and at length about their own health problems. She refused to be defined by her disease, a decision I also made when I first got cancer in my thirties and feared people would shy away from me because I'd entered the scary world of the sick.
Without ever going into much detail about our cancers, we understood almost instinctively what the other was going through. I believe the thought of dying terrified Liz, and her astonishing willpower not to cede to it was amazing. Her life was complex and sometimes bumpy, beautiful and secretive, and always infused with her great spirit. I don't think it's too much to say that her last few months at home were a deeply emotional, difficult, and ultimately humanizing experience for everyone close to her. I love her and miss her already.
Joanne Henry
June 12, 2012
The Ewen family treated my like extended family from the beginning of me getting to know them through Paul, my close friend, in high school. I felt welcome in their home - especially by Liz and Stuart (who I of course called "Mrs. and Mr. Ewen at the time, no matter what they told me to call them!) - and spent a lot of time there.
Then my own mom passed in my junior year, and Paul and his parents invited me that much closer into their family. I stayed over night a lot since I was living with my dad in NJ and it was far to travel after hanging with friends. The Ewens engaged me, fed me, and were just all around wonderful.
While all of us are so lucky to have had Liz in the world as long as we did, it's still crushing to lose the physical presence of one as amazing as her.
To all the Ewens and Ewen-extended family, my heart is with you.
Benjamin Reich
June 12, 2012
In loving memory of Liz, a woman of big ideas and an even bigger heart. A dear friend of my parents.
Smiles and excitement on both of their faces.
Paul Ewen
June 11, 2012
Andy Ewen
June 11, 2012
I wrote this song in honor of Liz a few months ago. Sang it at her memorial service. Truly "the hardest song I've ever tried to sing".
From Your Place and Mine
This is the hardest song
I've ever tried to sing
Because you are, you are, you are
So much…of Everything
Porcelain Mama
Beautiful Dreamer
Web Spinning Preacher
So we'll sing this one together
From your Place and Mine.
The most difficult words
Ever to write
Your Mysterious Darkness
Your Incredible Light
Deep in the World
Not of this World
Everlasting Star
So, let's sing this one together from your Place and Mine.
These are the most impossible notes
I've ever tried to play
So many things they can't possibly say
Lover and Hater
Fierce Instigator
Negation Negate-or
Wife to My Brother
Wild Spirit Boys' Mother
On now to Others
Oh Beautiful Wonderful Light
Oh Beautiful Wonderful Light
We'll play these notes together from your Place and Mine.
Chuck Reich
June 10, 2012
I wrote the following poem to Liz about a month ago after one of my last visits.
One eye opens, a syllable,
brief as your name.
I lean forward so you can see me,
but the moment exhausts itself
and your eyelid crumbles closed.
Standing at the bedstead,
my thumb stroking your forehead,
I say, “Liz, it's me, Chuck.”
For a long time,
the only sound 's
the whisper
of the humidifier,
but then I hear your voice
whispering too.
I lean forward,
my ear to your lips:
“So far,” I hear you say,
“so far, so far away.”
Phyllis Ewen
June 10, 2012
Here's to our beautiful Liz, - en la lucha - in the struggle- nella lotta - from early days fighting for social justice to her last months battling the illness, which finally claimed her body, but not her spirit. To my beloved friend and my brother's soul mate who brought richness to our family.
Liz Ewen you were a luminescent presence. I miss you.
I knew Liz Wunderlich when we were teenagers. A month ago I mentioned that I thought we met when I was thirteen, but she replied, “ sixteen” and, of course, she was right. We were part of the same high school world, those that read books with pleasure and were developing our political consciousness.
When Liz and Stuart met a few years later at the University of Wisconsin and fell in love, Liz became part of our family. Theirs was a passionate relationship - intellectually, physically, emotionally – and it survived as such until her death last week. Ideas were shared and developed and their mutual intelligences fed their collaborations.
After graduate school, Liz got a job at Cambridge Goddard, and for a year we lived near each other. I was able to spend a lot of time with the four of them; Paul was about 7 and Sam 4, and we became a closer family. Liz was writing or had just finished her PhD thesis and I was privileged to read it before it became a well-regarded book, Immigrant Women in the Land of Dollars. I was blown away by the truth of her analysis and the way in which she understood the deep connection between daily life and historical currents.
Liz's intelligence was not only used in academic contexts, she was astute in her emotional observations about the world around her and about us, commenting perceptively about culture, about the Ewen penchant for certain kinds of clothes, our food tastes, our different reading habits, and our ways of interacting with family and friends. She was always on target, generous, and articulate. I learned much about my own art processes from her critiques and about our family dynamics. She shared her experiences – and humorous advice - with those who followed her into the Ewen family: Jim, Catherine, and, more recently, Gretel and Devon.
Liz nurtured her relationships with the next generation. Besides her two sons, she made special times to be with the children of her friends and extended family. She treated them as equals, listened to them and understood who they were. With our daughter, Georgia, she planned shopping excursions with fashion advice, had lunches out, and heart-to-heart talks about love and life. Georgia adored her aunt. With Rosie Gordon Hunter, among other things, she compared episodes and iterations of the Star Trek saga - a shared passion. Many others enjoyed her loving attention; some of you may be in this room.
Due to a birth injury, Liz was in physical pain for most of her life. Yet she endured and flourished. It got worse as she got older and she was less able to be active and independent. In recent years, Liz withdrew; remaining a quiet observer in gatherings and preferring to interact one to one with individuals. And then she became sick with lung cancer. How long it had been growing before the diagnosis in January 2010, we don't know but she had become very weak and frail. Something wasn't right. After the successful surgery that spring, Liz regained a new energy for living and we were blessed with her luminous presence again. It has been cut too short. We keep her alive within ourselves.
Elizabeth Ewen, Presente!!!
Paul Soglin
June 10, 2012
Please convey my sympathy and admiration to Stuart and your family. From the first time I met them and listened to Liz and Stuart their compassion, their intellect, and their very special relationship was to leave a lasting impression. Those were not easy times to build relationships or to make a point with grace, passion, and subtlety.
Ros Baxandall
June 10, 2012
My most vivid memory is experiencing 9/11 with Liz. Pat Ryan our secretary came into both our 830am classes to tell us what had happened. We both taught as usual. After the class ended we took in the reality and left the college for our voyage back to NYC. We tried to drive but cars full of police, fireman and other rescuers speed by us. For almost an hour we were jammed under a bridge scared by big cars, trucks,and fire engires nearly edging us out. After 3 scary, chilling hours, our phones and car radio didn't work either, we made it to Great Neck, usually 10 minutes from the college. Liz after asking about 4 people directions got us to Stu's parents house. Liz was geographically challenged. if she said left, I was sure it was right. Stu's dad was sick and his mother welcomed us and we watched the towers fall on TV over and over. Then we went to a restaurant, an ordeal with dad in a wheelchair, but his lovely aid helped lots. After dinner we decided to risk the train back, car parked at the station. The train haltingly made it, taking it's time. There were few passengers on it and we'd been advised not to risk it, but we just needed our homes and mates.. At Grand Central I got Liz a cab, my designated daily job and I walked home. We both had nightmares of cars whizzing by as we huddled under a bridge for months afterwards.
Paul Ewen
June 10, 2012
One thing I forgot to mention about my mom was her incredible love of oysters. Every night as meals were prepared, on the Cape, she would get out the famed Oyster plates (handed down from Mr. Shimkin) nd then spend time making the horseradish sauce. It was always spicy and to perfection. esters were then put out and we would all prep our oysters with her sauce and lemon. She would just eat the oysters with lemon. The sauce wasn't for her, but for the rest of us. She was into the traditional preparation of the oyster consumption. She was quite happy when she had the pearl makers of the sea.
June 9, 2012
Stuie: Julie just wrote to me about Liz. And through Julie I've known you two over these years. Your words about your relationship moved me to tears. It seems you have been blessed with an enviable life of passionate commitments. I'm so sorry for you and your boys. Love, Annie
Clare Ultimo
June 7, 2012
Love reading these thoughts and beautiful memories that so many have for Liz. I was honored to meet her and learn about her work through Stuart. For a while, during end-of-year holiday events at the house, I would bring a batch of Italian pastries from downtown Brooklyn...it became a kind of tradition for me. Liz would greet me with "So, where's the pastries?" as I entered. To me, she will always be a powerful spirit; an example of great humanity/womanhood. Thanks Liz.
Paul Breines
June 7, 2012
What a wild, wooly, and wonderful tribute to Liz (and to Stuart) Evan Stark has made! Thank you, Paul, for the Guest Book. The entries, from so many places and times of Liz's life, each so tender and touching, feel like sparkling refractions of her. Hugs of support and love to you, Stuart, Paul, and Sam, and Finn.
Paul Breines
Maeve O'Donovan
June 7, 2012
I knew Liz as a mom and grandmother, a woman for whom no other humans were more amazing, talented, smart, creative or all around fabulous than her two grandchildren: Stella and Henry. In my few years of knowing her, nothing lit up her face more than the presence of her sons and their families.
Evan Stark
June 5, 2012
I met Liz in Madison in l964, where I was a grad student in sociology. She was the facilitator of the DuBois Club and Stuart was one of a handful of Wunderkind on the left who combined a principled activism with a working command of the Frankfort critique of popular culture. My girlfriend got pissed when Liz picked me up, apparently thinking I was going to “Da Boy's Club.” Liz was distinctly Old Left, a carryover from the days of Studies on the Left and Fair Play for Cuba and he was very New Left, a believer in experimenting with history rather than trying to swim with its inevitable tide, a thinker for whom activism was an automatic extension of principle. Not a strategist. Within the narrow political spectrum we inhabited, it would be hard to imagine two people further apart. Liz was still with Gene I think when we met. It was pretty obvious, as it was for many of the women who were first “allowed” to appear in the sacred leadership circles in the penumbra of the men to whom they were appended, that hers was a fire that could not be satisfied by the plodding ideology of a CP that opposed direct action almost as vigorously as resisted the counter-culture. Liz loved talk. Stuart distrusted talk and had little patience for the endless debates that made student leaders of those of us who stayed up late. I had no sympathy for Liz's politics, had already rejected the Frankfort critique as an undergrad of Marcuse's at Brandeis and chose to focus on civil rights issues in Madison rather than the Delta. But there was something about being in the presence of these two that I found transformative, almost magical. At first, it was the juxtaposition of energy, brilliance and principle, a love way beyond their years. Later, as they evolved from being lovers and comrades to true partners, they became models for me, easier I'm sure looking in from outside, of how two stars could build a relationship without exhausting one another, Dorothy and Red, how they could support each other intellectually and grow to be collaborators in much more than the histories they did, and parents and then, again, lovers, returning to romance through the arduous path of lives fully lived, through sickness and pain and loss and joy. I tried to build my early life with Anne around the model I imagined or took from them and later too, in settling into family, love, sickness and political work.
Liz will always be the ideal Communist for me. Long after she left the Party, she remained a fierce partisan. And yet, I never felt that she put herself above the fray or the frailties she framed as faults in others. Even in the face of her harshest criticisms of things I did or was about to do, I felt Liz was pointing to a capacity to make choices I myself was not aware of. At times, it seemed like the targets of her rage were unworthy, unworthy of her anger I mean, small-time stuff at Old Westbury or in the constricted world of New York feminism, little betrayals of friendship or persons distracted by a popularity not merited by the intellectual quality of their work. But more often, even when she took those with whom she disagreed more seriously than they took themselves, she showed us that even our smallest decisions were worth reflecting on. That we were moments in the history of liberation, even if only with a small “l.” She made me a more reflective person—Liz and meds. Liz had an unmatched loyalty to those she loved. Her students at Westbury became her working class whose consciousness she could embrace and enhance. Liz saw possibilities in us we didn't see and became distressed when we missed them or paid them no mind. It was this characteristic that I came to appreciate and admire as I poured over her “materials” when I wrote for her promotion and got immersed in the marvelous textual nuances of the Immigrant Women book and now in the conversation book about race. I owe Liz another great debt. When I started to work with the battered women's movement in the mid-70's, I got a lot of push-back. I was attacked personally, politically and, of course, as a male. Without Liz I would never have stuck to it. When I look back at the time when I was in New York or often visiting their home or seeing them in Old Chatham or the Cape, I try to think about Liz and Stuart separately or rather, since they were always separate people, apart from one another. I cannot. There is a love here that cannot end because Liz has died.
The night after I read Liz's obit, I dreamed of my grandmother, a sometime Communist. I was at an oral history of women conference outside of Boston when I got word my grandmother had died—was Liz there? We buried her the next day, in a Brooklyn cemetery surrounded by others from her village in Russia. She had returned to the family, the idealism of her youth. Although I didn't recognize a number of faces at the Memorial service yesterday, I could not help but feel that Liz had returned to her village too and that, like Swimmy, she was still a vital part of who we are or will be, the eye of the giant fish we are together or will be, if she has her way. I loved her too.
Stuart Ewen
June 5, 2012
Thank you all for your thoughts and memories of Liz. We got together when I was nineteen and she was twenty. Then began a great love and a conversation that lasted over 47 years. We made babies together, we wrote books together and we made an amazing life together. I miss you so much baby.
Eileen McGarry
June 4, 2012
Heartfelt sympathy to all those who knew and loved Liz. She'll be playing the NCAA brackets from that beautiful shining light. May your hearts heal quickly so you can enjoy the wonderful memories of her. Peace to her soul.
Ellen Wolrich Bruce
June 4, 2012
Liz was my very dear high school friend and I am so saddened to hear of her passing.
June 4, 2012
Dear Stuart, What a sad loss for you and your family. I wish I had known her--there are so many wonderful tributes and memories shared here. I extend my deepest sympathies to you and all your family. Paula Jennings (NYU)
Judith Zwail Tarlo
June 3, 2012
Not only do I remember Liz as an activist and grad assistant at SUNY Albany (69-70) but as a mom carrying her kids to activities and protests on campus. She was a role model as I was defining myself and I have thought about her and her family many times over the years. I offer my deepest sympathies to you, Stu, Paul, Sam and to your familie on your loss of a mom and soulmate.
Marlene Smith
June 3, 2012
Hello Paul, Gretel and Stuart,
I had the opportunity to interview Elizabeth on community owned KBOO-FM radio after reading Typecasting. Her brilliance and charm influenced a whole region in the Pacific NW. Her intellect and soul will of course live on through all of you. My sincere sympathy for your loss of her company...Marlene Smith
Leslee Klein
June 3, 2012
Dear Stu,
I was so sorry to read about Liz . Please accept my deepest sympathies. I have fond memories of both of you. Both of you played an indelible role in my life. I married a man from Madison.
Leslee Klein (Albany '70 and Brattleboro, summer of 71 [If I remember correctly ]).
June 3, 2012
Roberta and I send our condolences on the family's loss. We were schoolmates of hers a long time ago. Tom Levien GNS '69
Amy Bridges
June 2, 2012
I remember you at many meetings, warm, gentle, tough, and smart. And your wonderful Immigrant Women in the Land of Dollars, a revelation to my California students. Thank you.
Amy Bridges (Washington DC)
Ellen DuBois
June 2, 2012
From California, warm memories of Liz in Boston and New York. I still use your book
geoffrey slavin
June 2, 2012
i haven't seen Liz for fifty years, since high school when i fell in love with her. Yes, her spirit lives....
Saul M. Greenberg
June 1, 2012
From Junior and High School, I remember hours and hours of always interesting, inspiring talking that never seemed to end until we all eventually had to go home to dinner and homework. Liz was an important part of the lives of our circle of New Hyde Park friends!
Sorry to hear about her passing.
Condolences to you, Stuart, and all of your family.
Saul Greenberg
Peter Jucovy
June 1, 2012
My dear friend Liz, you examined the world with astuteness and engaged it with passion, generosity, courage, and honesty. We will miss you immensely.
June 1, 2012
I'm certain that the lives you touched are changed for the better. Well done.
Janet Lombard Ewen, Athens GA
Stephanie Stroud
June 1, 2012
So sorry for your loss.
June 1, 2012
farewell cousin...George Ewen,VA
Andy Ewen
June 1, 2012
Liz will always be be with us in Spirit and Soul.
We love you Liz. You Rocked and Rolled with the best of them!!
June 1, 2012
Mom, I love you so much!!!
Paul
Bob Byrnes
June 1, 2012
What a beautiful tribute to a wonderful soul. Her life and spirit will echo through all who were lucky enough to be touched by her generous spirit. I know that I will always cherish the friendship and relationship we have had for over 20 years. She has served as an inspiration to me so many times I only hope that I can repay her memory and the person she was by letting that inspiration guide me every day. I will miss her and I thank her for helping us all feel the true warmth she gave so freely.
Showing 1 - 92 of 92 results
Make a Donation
in ELIZABETH EWEN's name
Memorial Events
for ELIZABETH EWEN
How to support ELIZABETH's loved ones
Honor a beloved veteran with a special tribute of ‘Taps’ at the National WWI Memorial in Washington, D.C.
The nightly ceremony in Washington, D.C. will be dedicated in honor of your loved one on the day of your choosing.
Read more
Should I Send Sympathy Flowers?
What kind of arrangement is appropriate, where should you send it, and when should you send an alternative?
Read more
What Should I Write in a Sympathy Card?
We'll help you find the right words to comfort your family member or loved one during this difficult time.
Read moreResources to help you cope with loss
Estate Settlement Guide
If you’re in charge of handling the affairs for a recently deceased loved one, this guide offers a helpful checklist.
Read more
Obituaries, grief & privacy: Legacy’s news editor on NPR podcast
Legacy's Linnea Crowther discusses how families talk about causes of death in the obituaries they write.
Read more
The Five Stages of Grief
They're not a map to follow, but simply a description of what people commonly feel.
Read moreWays to honor ELIZABETH EWEN's life and legacy
Obituary Examples
You may find these well-written obituary examples helpful as you write about your own family.
Read more
Obituary Templates – Customizable Examples and Samples
These free blank templates make writing an obituary faster and easier.
Read more
How Do I Write a Eulogy?
Some basic help and starters when you have to write a tribute to someone you love.
Read more
