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.