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 make an appointment with my optometrist, thinking I might need a new prescription for my glasses. I can still read but maybe not quite as easily. The changes are so gradual, I hardly notice.
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My neighborhood is full of such trees that have survived generations of hand saws and chain saws. Stripped of their symmetry, these trees find another way to be beautiful.
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My mother would send me into the field behind our house to pick asparagus. We lived in a tiny bungalow, one of hundreds built in a hurry after World War II.
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The bad news on my radio has turned to good news just beyond my windshield. Then traffic starts moving again and I make my left turn. Grateful—beyond measure—for this delay.
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“Ask for what you want. No one is likely to offer it.” Rather a stark statement, I thought, but I had to admit it was true. I only wish someone had said it to me years ago.
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I am looking through my button box and pick up a small cloth-covered button. “Turquoise silk,” I murmur, remembering the dress it came from, a dress I wore only once.
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When I start feeling annoyed by the way my husband eats his breakfast—or breathes in and out—I know it’s time for some space.
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When I was in sixth grade, an announcement was made that we were all going to get T.B. shots in a couple of weeks. This had never happened before and suddenly the school was full of frightening rumors.
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We talked and laughed for a couple hours on the little balcony... Sometimes shifting gears takes you to a better place.