“I don’t have a license for this thing.”

In celebration of Mother’s Day, here is one of my favorite Moz stories (from October, 2016):
Took Moz (88 years, 10 months) to the dentist this afternoon, and ohmygawd – it was like going to a comedy club! We’re filling out all the forms in the waiting area, and Moz has to put her signature on another one. “Again?!” she asks, exasperated. Laughing, I tell her to behave herself, and she says, “Don’t make me laugh – I’m trying to sign this thing.” She finishes signing the paper and hands it back to me. “You know,” she says, “I’ll get all these papers signed, and then next week I’ll die.”

Missy, the dental lady comes out to get her, and Moz gets up to follow her with her walker. “Watch out,” she says, “I don’t have a license for this thing.” Missy starts cracking up.

Missy gets Moz situated in the dental chair, and turns the light on to start working on her teeth. Moz tells her to feel free to pluck any chin hairs she finds. Missy starts laughing. She hands Moz a glass of water to rinse. She asks Moz how she’s doing. Moz tells her, “I’m full of it.” Missy grins, and asks, “You’re full of it?” Moz says, “Water, that is.” And Missy cracks up.

Missy and Moz find out they were born three days apart at the end of December. “When you’re born at the end of the year, everyone always makes you a year older than you are,” Moz complains. And Missy adds, “Merry Christmas and happy birthday!” Then they discover they’re both left-handed, too!

Then Hansrolf comes in. Hansrolf is my favoritest dentist, ever. He’s like a stand-up comic. He and Moz immediately take to each other. Moz tells him she came here for the entertainment. She tells Hansrolf he should give Missy a raise. Hansrolf says what he needs to do is get all of us out of there – he is out-numbered and we are ganging up on him. Moz responds with some smartassery, and then she notes, “I probably shouldn’t have said that, eh?” And Hansrolf says, “Not just before I start working on your teeth, no.” Moz is still embarrassed about her chin hairs, and Hansrolf grins and says, “Don’t worry about any chin hairs. We’ll just work around them if we find any.”

They end by telling each other Norwegian jokes. Here’s Moz’s: “Ole says his wife is an angel. Sven tells Ole, ‘You’re lucky. My wife hasn’t died, yet.’” Hansrolf laughs so hard he almost falls off his chair. 🙂

(Here’s a photo from Moz on her honeymoon. She and Dad were about to climb a formidable spire somewhere in Colorado.)

 

young moz

I’m pretty full of myself right now. :)

My photo is on the back page of the June/July Mother Earth News. My picture is the one with the red barn and the rainbow. (This is the fourth time Mother Earth News has used one of my photos – I’m pretty full of myself right now.  )

Ahmoud Arbury’s Murder

I’ve been struggling to find some way to respond. I’ve been tempted to stay off the internet, dodge every source of news, isolate myself in every way from the world. But I realize none of that is going to make this go away. So. Yeah. Here we are.

When Ahmoud Arbury was chased down a suburban street in Georgia and shot in broad daylight – that was murder – plain and simple. He was innocently jogging. He had committed no crime. He had done nothing wrong. The only reason he was chased and killed was because the people who killed him didn’t like the color of his skin.

The murderers were (finally- months later!) arrested. And now there’s a group on Facebook called “Christians Against Google” that supports Ahmoud Arbury’s killers. There is so much wrong with that I can’t even wrap my head around it. “Christians”?!! What part of Jesus’ simple instruction to “love your neighbor” is so hard for his professed followers to understand?

The group’s description says: “These 2 God fearing men were only trying to protect their neighborhood” and “this man… did not comply with simple commands.” WHAT THE HELL?!!! Ahmoud Arbury was under no obligation to “comply” with the commands being given by these racist sociopaths intent on killing him – and if you’ve seen the video you know it wouldn’t have helped Ahmoud Arbury to “comply,” anyway.

The inhumanity, the hatred, the insanity, the sheer brutality and senselessness of it – there is no way for this to be justified. No excuse for Ahmoud Arbury’s tragic murder.

It needs to stop. There’s no place or time for racist hatred in our world. We were all made for better things. We were all made to be DOing better things.
– Karen

Universal Love

Am I a fashion plate?

Taking the dog for a walk. I round the corner and see my neighbor (and former student) across the road. “Hi Michael!” I holler. He looks over and smiles and waves. “Am I a fashion plate?” I ask him. I am wearing floral-patterned garden shoes, purple knee-high socks, baggy denim capri pants two sizes too big and covered in mud at the knees from gardening, my standard black t-shirt and a black fleece jacket. Michael grins at the picture I make. “I just don’t care anymore,” I tell him, laughing.

Michael joins me in the laugh and points to his beard. “You see my beard?” he asks. “I don’t care anymore, either.”

We laugh for a moment with each other, and then wish one another a good night.

Priorities have shifted.

IMG_2320 (2)

I might have been named Cretaceous.

From a side conversation with another “Karen”:
I was actually named “Nancy Jo” for three days. Then my dad took an office poll and “Karen” won. Yeah. I was named by Dad’s colleagues. Considering that they were a bunch of geologists, I guess I could have done worse than be named “Karen.” I might have been named “Sedimentary” or “Igneous” or “Schist” or “Cretaceous.” I never actually felt like a “Karen” until it became a comic meme. Now I love to tell people my name. With a straight face. My name is a great one-liner.  🙂

 

I Miss My Drives with Dad, Too

A couple of you have messaged me to let me know how much you’ve missed my “drives with Dad.” I really appreciate your kind words and thoughtfulness, and taking the time to write me. I miss my drives with Dad (Dee Molenaar), too – I miss his spontaneous geology lectures; I miss looking for Mount Baker with him; I miss talking about the mountains we climbed together and remembering our adventures; I miss his keen observations; I miss his courage in the face of pain and adversity. He inspired me. He continues to inspire me.

Dad was born during the flu epidemic of 1918 and died on January 19th – just two days before the first coronavirus case was reported in Washington State. I’m so grateful we never had to be separated from each other because of the virus. I’m not sure he would have understood.

There are now two books that chronicle my adventures with Dad in his last years here. The first one, Are You Taking Me Home Now?: Adventures with Dad, was published right after Dad’s 100th birthday (it now has ten 5-star reviews!). The second one was published last month, a couple months after Dad’s passing. Working on the second book was therapeutic for me – it helped me process Dad’s passing, and gave me a project to work on while the world headed into quarantine.

Should you be looking for something to read during the quarantine, here’s a link to the second book, The Second Hundred Years: Further Adventures with Dad. I see there’s no review for it, yet. If anyone read the book and liked it, a review would be much appreciated. If anyone read the book and didn’t like it so much, please do not feel any obligation to write a review. 🙂

the second hundred years cover really