Karen Anderson
Essays by Karen AndersonKaren Anderson is a writer who lives and works in Traverse City, Michigan. She was a columnist for the Traverse City Record-Eagle for 30 years and published two collections.
Since 2005, she has contributed weekly essays to Interlochen Public Radio. An illustrated collection of her essays was published in 2017, “Gradual Clearing: Weather Reports from the Heart.”
Karen has a master’s degree in English Literature from the University of Michigan and is retired from Northwestern Michigan College where she was director of marketing and public relations. She enjoys camping, canoeing, reading, writing, listening and learning.
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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.
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I think of the word, “elderly.” It used to apply to my parents’ generation. Now I’m at the front of the line, wondering where the time went, wondering why I’m not better prepared.
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Her name was Nelle but I always called her Miss Curry. She was my teacher, as long as she lived—and longer.
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His weathered face and ruddy cheeks announced that George Rector wasn’t an indoor guy.
