Review for *Gone with the Penguins* by Hazel Prior

Note to the author: Hazel Prior, you never fail to uplift me. Thank you for sending your light out into the Cosmos. Your books give me hope for the world; bolster my courage to try to help save it; and always leave me with happy tears. Granny McReedy inspires me to never give up exploring and learning and growing.

Quotes from Gone with the Penguins:

“We will take each day as it comes. Neither of us is a stranger to grief, but we are united and we are strong. Old age is remarkably edifying. Like wartime, it highlights the fragility of life, and its preciousness. Walk, for tomorrow you may be lame. Admire the flowers, for tomorrow you may be blind. Listen to the birds, for tomorrow you may be deaf. Hug those you love, for tomorrow they may be gone. So may you. It is more important to enjoy the moment than to worry about future ones or regret past ones.”
***

“To walk is to think. To walk is to observe. To walk is to take in the wonders of the world.”
***

“Strong?” she mutters. “Well, I must say, ‘strong’ is open to interpretation. I used to believe it meant hardness, blocking off one’s feelings, never sharing, never letting on, never crying. And I suspect you think strength means diving headlong into adventures. But real strength also means trusting. Trusting others, and trusting yourself, too. Allowing yourself to feel what you feel. Knowing that, although we cannot see it, there is more, much more, beyond.”
***

“It’s the Aurora Australis, the Southern Lights,” Sir Robert gasps.

“We gaze and gaze. It seems that all the crazy, miraculous, wonderful things that have been hiding throughout my life now cannot contain themselves any longer; they are spilling out across the universe.”
***

“And slowly the swirl of snowflakes clears, and reveals hundreds upon hundreds of similar families grouped behind them, smudges of grey, black, yellow and white blending into the whiter white. Tiny chicks peek out from brood pouches, insulated by their parents’ padding. Toddlers waddle about in fuzzy fleeces, bedraggled wet fur on their nether regions, dragging tiny tails behind them. Adults look on or usher them forward. Every mother and father is swollen with pride, brimming with devotion; almost unbearable sweetness in the snow.”
***

“How can I expain to them this fire that burns within me? They see me with myopic eyes; they see me as too old. They do not realize that every old person contains a young person, one who remains wide open to change, to hope, to possibility.”
***

“We have music, though,” Eileen puts in. “And all sorts of hobbies. Did Darwin explain that? I don’t suppose tiddlywinks or knitting or singing help me survive, but they do make life so much nicer.”
***

“A ‘like’ is apparently a mark of approval from your peers. Young people collect and count them to measure their own self-worth.”
***

“Phones nowadays aren’t content to be merely phones; they pompously insist on being cameras, encyclopedias, calculators, personal trainers, news reporters, gossipmongers and much else besides. In fact, with such receptacles containing one’s entire life, one scarecely needs a brain at all. I have chosen not to possess such a machine. My brain has always worked perfectly well, and should it require a little boost, all I need to do is to consult Eileen.”
***

“No challenge should be faced without great hope, bold lipstick and a smart, good-quality handbag.”
***

There Will Be Rainbows

There’s no promise that it will be easy. There’s no guarantee there won’t be challenges. But I know this – there will be joy, too. There will be beauty and kindness and laughter. There will be new friends and new paths and new books and rainbows. We’ll find we can be happy even when we’re sad. And we’ll find we have more courage than we knew. We’ve got this. We were made for this.
(Rainbow photos by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)

There’s Still So Much to Celebrate

It hit me today as I was
hanging another ornament on the tree –
a gift from east coast family –
that no matter how many ornaments I hang
I’m never going to have
my whole family together again
in the person, on this planet.
Parents have passed now; Loved ones scattered.
And somehow facing this reality
and accepting it –
helped give me perspective on what matters.
I’d been raising the bar too high for Christmas –
making my joy dependent on what can’t be –
instead of being grateful for all the good that IS –
for all the good that’s mine here and now.
There’s still so much to celebrate –
and nothing can separate
me from the love of Love Itself.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell

Mom Would Have Been 97 Today

Colleen was born the youngest of ten children to Christian and Ida (Miller) Haag on December 26, 1927 in Pasco, Washington.

She graduated from Pasco High School in 1945 and went on to attend the University of Idaho (where she ran on the track team), the College of Puget Sound (UPS), and the University of Montana, where she earned her degree in musical performance in 1951.

During the summers between college she worked in the souvenir shop at Mount Rainier National Park, where she met her husband, Dee, who was a park ranger there.

Colleen “Mozzy” Molenaar was a treasure. She was fun and feisty and had a wonderful self-deprecating sense of humor. She taught her children that God is Love, and taught them to look for the good in people.

She was a gifted singer and had once been accepted into the Portland Opera Company, but decided, instead, to marry Dee and move to Colorado to begin a life with him.

In her younger years she spent much of her time in the mountains with Dee, hiking and climbing (she climbed to the summit of Mount Rainier twice!).

In her later years she enjoyed crossword puzzles, reading (her tastes were eclectic), caring for her animals (goats, llamas, and cats) at the family home in Port Orchard, keeping her bird feeders filled, watching Carl Sagan talk about the cosmos, and spending time with her children and grand-children.

In 2016 she and Dee moved to LaConner to be closer to her daughter.

She passed away peacefully in her sleep at her daughter’s home in Bow, Washington, on February 21, 2017.

Mozzy is survived by her husband of 62 years, Dee; her daughter, Karen, and son-in-law, Scott Terrell; her son, Peter, and his partner Sheila (Lindula) of Hoodsport; son David Molenaar of Olympia; and grandchildren, Andrew and Alexander Terrell (both of Bellingham), Claire Molenaar (Denver, Colorado) and Casey Molenaar (Olympia), and numerous nephews, nieces, and friends.

She was preceded in death by her parents and nine siblings.

Colleen’s family is grateful for the wonderful people at hospice who helped her through this transition. Special thanks to hospice nurse, Renee.

Thoughts from Moz’s grandson, Casey: I have never seen such an amazing soul, one that the world has had the great misfortune to lose today. No matter the situation, she ONLY gave out love and nothing but and she has been a huge part of my understanding of love and has instilled its importance in me. I believe that the thing I heard from her the most was “God is love” — and that statement, in the entirety of its meaning, looms inside me and will continue to for the rest of my life.

I am thankful to have had such a giving and goofy woman in my life…There aren’t enough words to describe this wonderful lady. I will miss her very much, as will I’m sure every single person who has had the pleasure of meeting her. And truth be told, as I reflect, I am happy; I was fortunate enough to know her and call her a big part of my family.

Thank you for teaching me that love is EVERYTHING.

Link to Mom singing Mamma Mia.

Ode to Boxing Day

It’s a humble holiday, tucked in between
Christmas and New Year’s, but it’s really keen.
Things look a little bedraggled, it’s true
The tree’s a little droopy and no longer new

The movies and music of the Christmas season
Are getting on our nerves now, and we’re seeing no reason
To eat even one more sugary oversweet sweet
It’s time for broccoli and carrots (maybe hold on the beets)

The pressure for perfection comes off on this day,
the toys have been opened, and it’s come time to play.
And if before we were wearing faux holiday cheer
to blend in with the others and not Scroogey appear

It’s time now to be genuine, and honest and real.
The food banks are empty, people still need a warm meal.
The homeless and hungry and jobless and alone
still need love and care, still need a home.

So maybe we can celebrate the day after Christmas
by keeping the spirit of hope alive,
we might make that our business.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell, from A Poem Lives on My Windowsill

Christmas Wrapping

You’ve Made a Difference

Dear ones,
I’m not sure you realize how powerful and important your kindness has been to me, and this world. Trust me. You’ve made a difference.
Karen

Love Without Distance

I wake early on Christmas morn
and come downstairs to plug in the lights.
I feel the loss of those who aren’t near
this year –
I feel the holes in my sphere
and I feel grief here.

And then Love is talking to me,
gently nudging my shoulder,
embracing me and letting me know
I am not alone.

I feel my dear ones gathering around me –
those who have passed on,
and those still on this plane of existence –
I feel their love without distance –
they’re with me still.
I reach out and hug them back.
There are no holes here.
My heart is filled.

-Karen Molenaar Terrell

Christmas Lights

Shortest Day Is Here

shortest day is here
we rest in the darkness
tomorrow brings light

-Karen Molenaar Terrell
(Photo of the last sunset before solstice by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)

Next Year This Christmas Will Be the New Past

Every Christmas is different
from the last,
and brings its own gifts,
and a new past.

Mom and Dad are no longer here,
but their sweaters hang
from the back of our chairs,
and I feel Mom’s smile on me,
and Dad’s grin,
and sometimes I feel a nostalgic
yearning to go back to what’s been.

The sons are all grown up now
with homes of their own.
But I remember their childhood excitement
when they’d wake on Christmas morn –
running downstairs to see what Santa
brought them during the night
and put under the Christmas tree’s lights.

And there’s a sad sweetness
to the remembering.

Next year this Christmas
will be the new past.

-Karen Molenaar Terrell

Solstice Morning-Night

Sparky cat stares, transfixed,
at the Christmas tree
and shares the stillness
of this solstice morning with me.
I’ve plugged in the lights –
red and gold, green and white –
and I sit on the couch with my feet
on the coffee table, embraced
in the peace of the solstice morning-night.

– Karen Molenaar Terrell