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, learning.
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I will never plant my garden again without sturdy little petunias. -
The picture on the back of my comic book looked so real. World War II army soldiers were firing guns and running with bayonets. Best of all, you could get a hundred for just one dollar!
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A friend and I are having coffee and she tells me about her life. Tells me and tells me. Then, as we’re saying goodbye, she exclaims how wonderful it was to “catch up.” I wonder how she can feel caught up when I haven’t said a word about my life. Nor has she asked.
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I should say hello but I’m in a hurry. She’s probably in a hurry, too, and there’s no need to bother. She hasn’t seen me yet and I can let it go.
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And there it was, an enormous old horsehair chair that was just the sort of thing my daughter could curl up in with a book.
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As I lock the door, I stand on the porch for a moment and stare at the small back yard with its spruce trees and English ivy. Each time I leave is an opportunity to notice and to cherish—not only this house but this life, my life—right here, right now.
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Although the romance didn’t last, some of his droll observations have lingered.
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My mother was a gourmet cook. “Listen to this,” she’d say, reading the list of ingredients. “Doesn’t that sound good?” “Sure,” I’d say, wondering how she could tell just from a list of ingredients whether something would taste good?"
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I set up a canvas chair in my back yard, but before I can turn around and sit down, my cat has leaped into it. I could remove Rosie, of course, but if you’re a pet owner you know what I do.
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My first year in college I met a fellow who was a couple years older... I was dazzled by his attention—so dazzled that I couldn’t see clearly, couldn’t see him at all
