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Eulalia Benejam Cobb
114 followers -
Writer, artist and seeker, living close to the earth in Vermont
Writer, artist and seeker, living close to the earth in Vermont

114 followers
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Eulalia Benejam's posts

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Of Uncles And Equines
My favorite uncle, the husband of my grandmother's sister, was that rarity: a schoolmaster who adored kids. Early in our acquaintance we cast each other in roles which we never tired of playing: he as a devil ( un dimoni! ) and I as his intended victim. He ...

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Relativity, continued
Now I am fifteen, sitting in my American History class, in a Catholic high school in the Deep South. I am a little nervous because we are studying the discovery of America and I fear that my teacher, like my Ecuadorian teacher before him, will attack me for...

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Relativity
"You, Benejam, stand up, please," says  Madre Mercedes del Sagrado Corazón de Jesús  (" Corazón ," for short). "Tell us what you think about what I have just said." She teaches the fifth-grade class in Quito, Ecuador, where I have recently arrived from Spai...

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Birds In Blizzard
While the nor'easter rages outside, I'm watching the birds at the feeder under the eaves. Long past the time when they usually retire to their roosts, they're flying in for a few last bits of energy to get them through the night. Titmice, their little crest...

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Paper Protest
Ten nasty, persistent women, one (v. nice) man, and a little red dog spent Sunday afternoon writing messages to the President, in anticipation of #TheIdesofTrump. Bisou wrote a card of her own (the one with the paw print), which I will be forwarding for her...

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Don't Link, Think!
At breakfast, sipping coffee, I said to my spouse, "Did you hear that thing on NPR about cyborgs?" "What about them?" he asked, measuring honey into green tea. If this had been the 1980s, I would have rummaged in my short-term memory and retrieved whatever ...

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Feeding the Furniture
It's the depths of winter in Vermont. The deer in their deer yards and the bears in their dens are using up the last of their fat reserves. By this time each year, after months of having the heat on and despite the clouds of steam billowing out of our humid...

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The Nun on the Bus
When the noon bell rang in the hill-top convent school of Nuestra Madre de la Merced in Quito, Ecuador, we would board the pale-yellow school bus that took us home for lunch. Two hours later, the bus would pick us up for our afternoon classes. And it was du...
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