Essays by Karen Anderson
For 30 years, writer Karen Anderson was a columnist for the Traverse City Record-Eagle. She's contributed weekly essays to Interlochen Public Radio since 2005. Listen for her on Fridays during Morning Edition at 6:32 and 8:32 a.m. Her essays are archived here.
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I saw a string of tiny blue stars lying in the street. I picked them up, but they were just cheap plastic, broken and filthy. -
I would simply say, “Good night.” And two voices would say, “Good night.” It was enough to send me back to bed and to sleep.
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As a young person, I wouldn’t think twice about such a screw-up, but as an old person, I fear I’ve lost it—whatever “it” is.
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What I most want for Christmas is for someone to say: “Tell me about your mom.”
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There was a time when all I needed to be happy was a box of eight Crayola crayons...
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Last spring, I planted some marigolds. Their yellow and orange blossoms were gorgeous but too heavy for their slender stems. It made me think about the dazzle and burden of beauty.
