Mom's Memories
A Few of My Mom's Special Memories of Karen
We became fast friends in the third grade. We both idolized our teacher, Miss Steere, and imitated the way she walked and carried her purse. We wore matching “leather” coats with “fur” linings which we would drape over the grass and then sit on them so we could talk about horses or draw them or write stories about them.
Horses! Her dad called me “Horsey”—I loved that! We collected ceramic and plastic horses; pretended we owned herds of horses, each with a special name; planned to co-own a horse and board it at Covenant Beach; played Barbies who always had horses to ride or somehow worked horses into their lives. We each had a stick horse, complete with rope bridle. I was always a bit self-conscious walking through Magnolia Village every Saturday with my walking stick and a rope tied around “his” neck.
In 7th grade, we both took sewing class. The teacher specifically instructed us NOT to buy plaid or corduroy for our skirt projects. Neither of us was listening in class, because Karen bought plaid and I bought corduroy. The teacher made us suffer through the project, Karen having to match all those lines in the plaid, and me having to sew through about 6 inches of thick, blue corduroy, all on treadle sewing machines.
In 9th grade we took another sewing class, this time working diligently on “finger warmers” when the teacher wasn’t looking. We had quite a collection by the end of the semester.
We both sang in “Girls’ Glee”--songs that we only learned the alto part. When sung by themselves they sounded rather odd. I’m sure if Karen were here right now, she could help me with “Let there be music from the fruited plains…..” and “tall as the Indian co-o-o-rn!” I remember sitting under the bridge near the family cabin singing that song at the top of our lungs while the rain poured down and made the river (was it the Stillaguamish?) swell.
It always rained at the cabin. We would spend hours lying on bunk beds reading comic books (mostly Archie) and listening to the pounding rain on the roof. Then we would pull on long, way-too-big-for-us rain ponchos and go for walks along the nearly deserted road in our bare feet. I remember somehow climbing inside of an abandoned store. Chip was with us, and we explored the dark corners and played with the huge, old cash register and hid every time a car drove by, sure that it was the police and we would get in trouble. Another time I remember hanging out in a shed on the property and acting out (again with Chip) TV commercials. Not real ones, just goofy ones we made up. Like the Rooty Tooty Scooter Company. Everything sold for $29.95, plus attachments.
And then there was the time one summer when Mrs. Keithan drove us out to Lake Sammamish to go swimming. I think it was on the way there that I was introduced to Taco Time and crispy beef burritos for the first time. I’ve been eating them ever since. And I still bite off the end and pour the salsa down inside. At the lake, we found lots of frogs. I caught one and tried to sneak it home. Karen helped. Only we got caught, and Mrs. K was MAD! I had to let froggy go…
I got to go with Karen and family to San Francisco for a week during Christmas vacation. I remember we ATE a lot and had sandwiches (and very large olives!) brought to our room late at night, my first introduction to room service. After each meal, we’d say, “I’m never eating again!” But we did. The Hotel room had a lovely gingerbread house, and I thought it was REALLY dumb that the Keithans didn’t take it with them when it was time to leave. But I guess we had picked at it enough.
Karen always made me laugh. We laughed a lot. We’d be in a department store, and she’d do some funny little dance to the piped in music. Or she’d talk in a foreign accent and sound so convincing. She could imitate just about anybody famous. And she’d always rib me about being “older” than her—a whole month!
She was a wonderful auntie to my kids. We still have books she gave them, and a Mexican marionette, and lovely artwork. She came and visited us in Vermont, sent care packages to us in China (Bob still wears his J.P. Patches t-shirt), and even let us live in her house for a few weeks while we were home on furlough. She introduced Caleb and Rachel to the Puyallup Fair. Years later she had Caleb set up her computer; and one time, when Rachel was lost because of accidentally taking an Express bus to Ballard, Karen came to her rescue and brought her back to her college dorm. During that same Fall, she drove Rachel and I to the International District and Uwagimaya. I’ll never forget the look of glee on Rachel’s face when she saw so many Asian things with which she was so familiar from her years in China. I’ll also never forget the look of joy Karen had in being able to share that experience.
I could write page after page after page of memories—all good and pleasant ones. Karen was a positive, loving, giving friend. When I think of her, I can only smile. Thanks, Karenzia, for being such a true and dear friend all these years. I will greatly miss you.
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