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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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Karen Elizabeth Bush Karen Elizabeth Bush
Karen. Liz. Pitn.
(short for Pain in the neck --
and oh, she could be, when riled!)
She passed away today.
She is safe and herself once more.
The world is dimmer
even though the heavens shine.
Karen was Camelot. Adopted sister (of a sort)
to Richard Burton, to King Arthur.
She spoke Welsh, learned from her family
in Pontrhydyfen. She spoke
Detroit Tigers learned from her family
there as well. Had her own seat
at the old ball field, the one at the Corner.
She was JP McCarthy's Lady in Blue.
She was the 'favorite teacher ever' to many--
forty years on her students still speak
of her, still remember what and how she taught them.
Karen was a writer, an editor,
and a stickler for correct grammar.
She wrote books about the Tigers,
her fourth-grade students, and more.
She still scribed handwritten letters
to many across the globe.
She had a voice that angels sang along with;
clear and vibrant. But then, she always was.
She was a Lady: elegant, polished, regal.
Karen embodied the truest meaning of friend.
She could be persnickety, and never backed down
when she knew she was right. She didn't suffer fools easily.
A historian, who was fascinated by genealogy.
She knew her roots and from whence she sprang.
An accomplished rider, she loved her horses. Her ribbons
cover an entire wall. She could draw
and rendered likenesses that jumped off the page.
She once had a German Shephard
who descended from Rin-Tin-Tin. Her Siamese cats
suited her. Family, they conversed, reset alarms, chased
shadows, and (in her words) were quite loquacious!
She was my friend for over thirty years. Karen was
a rare breed of individual. Special, funny, and real as real
ever gets. She had grace. And she had fire. She was joy.
She was a writer's reader; you could trust her word
if she thought you'd written well. Or not. Then she pushed
and shoved and harangued you until you wrote it better.
She never settled for less than what she thought
was your best work. She expected no less. Karen
accepted no less. Ever. Even when she wasn't teaching; she taught.
I miss her already.
She has left behind a hole in the cosmos.
So much to so many. So precious.
A treasure beyond measure.
I am so glad I knew her. That she considered me
her friend. My heart is full of tears
and yet, and yet,
I can hear her clearly: Nonsense!
She's now with all her animals running across
flowered meadows, watching her horses
kick up their heels at seeing her once again.
She's even now growing those wings
that she hid in life. God speed, Karen, Liz, Pitn.
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