Aunt Karen

We had another loss in our family last week. My Aunt Karen passed away. Her name is not pronounced like 'Care - en' - but like 'carr - en'. She was Danish, married to Mom's brother, Uncle Nordahl, a Norsk, of course. When I was a little girl I was especially fond of Aunt Karen's parents, Bedstemor and Bedstefar. Bedstefar looked a bit like Santa Claus and Bedstemor grew the most beautiful flowers in town. One thing I always knew was how much my Aunt Karen also loved her parents.

Aunt Karen worked for the local newspaper and I was always very proud of that. I remember going on a field trip to The Wilbur Register office for Bible School one summer. Even though I was shy, it didn't stop me from bragging to my friends that my Aunt Karen worked there. Those feelings never left me. As an adult that is what prompted me to apply for work at our local paper, a job that lasted over 20 years.

Aunt Karen was also a very good 'friend of the library.' The smell and feel of the Hesseltine Public Library in Wilbur will always remind me of her. She loved to read and also volunteered her time at the library. I recently applied for a job at a library, and once again, I know Aunt Karen was part of my inspiration for that. (I hope I get it!)

When I was a kid, Uncle Nordahl and Aunt Karen lived on 'the farm' outside of Wilbur. The farm was where my mom and all but one of her siblings were born. The farm is where we went for family picnics. The farm is where so many memories that shaped me into the person I am were made.

It was so much fun to play with my cousins and sit at a table full of family to have our meals. To this day I can't put my elbows on the table without thinking of Aunt Karen. You see, one of my older cousins once told me that if you put your elbows on the table Aunt Karen would jab you very hard with a fork. To my memory, that never really happened, and I know it never happened to me - but it stopped me from putting my elbows on the table.

Aunt Karen always had interesting things to show me, sometimes things she found around the farm, but usually things she'd made. She could knit and also weave beautiful baskets. One time Mom, Joan and I all went to the farm to make baskets with Aunt Karen. Everyone did quite well, except for me. I remember being teased a little about my crooked attempt at weaving, but Aunt Karen graciously handed me the excuse that I "had punky reed."

Sometimes the things we remember about a person can't be described. They are just a part of us, as much as our hearts and our hands - the memories are just there, not tangible. I can feel her and hear her, but I can't impart who she was in this blog. Those who knew her and loved her don't need me to write about her - they just know, as I do.

Aunt Karen - you are missed already. I know you are in heaven with Uncle Nordahl. You are no longer suffering with the cancer that took over and hurt you so much. I know, that you know, how much you meant to me and how much of an influence you were on my life.

I love you.

Introspection

For most of my adult life I have been under the mistaken delusion that the things I think and feel are important - wise - that they could benefit others.
I find, more often now, that most difficult situations are much better served if I just keep my feelings to myself.

How many of us go through life with good intentions, only making things harder for others? It doesn't make us bad people, just naïve.

I've been thinking a lot over the past couple of weeks, and that can be a dangerous thing. Thinking too much about any one thing can make the thing bigger than it might, in reality be. I am trying to learn from my mistakes in life. I don't want to hurt people. I don't want to lose people.

Remember that not everyone shares your experiences in life and they may not be able to appreciate, or even hear what you have to say. They may not care. It simply might be none of your business. These are things I know, but often forget. I needed to be reminded.
How many times do I speak up, and without knowing it, hurt someone?

I know we all make mistakes.

I will move on now - and keep things to myself.

TCH ~ the missing blog.

This is the blog I started, then lost. This morning I was searching for something in my computer and I accidentally came across this. It is now outdated, and since I wrote it, my temporary time at TCH has been extended a few times. I'm still there and still learning new things. I'm faced with having to take some chances, make some choices ~ and I don't know how it will turn out. But we never do, do we? Finding this little snippet this morning seems a bit like a message to myself. I'll figure it out later!


It’s almost the last week of November and starting to feel like winter outside. Time really does go by faster as you get older. Yes, I’m older. Old.

In September, almost exactly 23 years after the first time, I started working at the Tri-City Herald again. It is a temporary position that will end in just about 5 more weeks. I can’t believe how quickly my time there has flown by. At the end of December I will be able to say that I worked for the Tri-City Herald for 21 years. When I had to leave there in 2011 I was just 4 months short of 21 years. I will be sad to have to leave again, but it has been good for me. It won’t be as sad as when I had to leave 2 ½ years ago. Being given the opportunity to go back, for even a short time, has been such a positive experience for me.

It’s been like getting back together with an old friend. I don’t only mean the people, but the place itself. Of course, some of my old friends are still there, but many have moved on. Many positions just no longer exist. The business is changing, as all things must. It makes me a little sad. Still, there is something about being there that feels like home; arriving in the morning with the anticipation of the day, the hustle and bustle of making deadlines and creating something that impacts so many people’s lives on a daily basis. I was always proud of the Herald and I still am.
Being able to return has also helped me to find a part of myself that I had lost over the past couple of years.