Davi-Ellen
Written by Elizabeth Chabner Thompson,
MD, MPH, Davi-Ellen’s daughter.
When I was a little girl, there were two places I knew to find my mother. Either she was sitting at her desk in the “4th bedroom,” a little attic crawl space housing her desk, a typewriter and stacks of papers, or she was at “the track.” My mother, a nice Jewish Girl from Brooklyn, was the granddaughter of a union organizer and the daughter of a model. Beautiful, with thick brown hair, she wore a ERA (Equal Rights Amendment) bracelet, but she was no bra burner.
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