Karinaland River

  Sommerträume – Summer Dreams Out of nowhere, my brother Matthias announces that he is sending a package from Germany. Mid-year, not for my birthday. What will arrive? Mail across the ocean is not dependable anymore and postage has become very expensive. Arbitrary tolls have to be paid in Germany and here, so with the huge postage increases I had to give up sending presents to my family in Germany. What a loss. When his parcel arrives two weeks later, a colorful woven textile emerges. Marvelous. So much joy. Freude . His hands spin the wool with a spindle, the threads get dyed, then he weaves. The beautifully crafted gift brings consolation – a piece of him in my home. I drape it on the couch, admiring it daily. Times of pandemic, my own health issue, and now, for the past year and half, it is too dangerous for me to fly.  Having not seen my siblings and family for seven years, I feel most bereft  t his summer. D reaming of magic carpets. Yes, my old childhood habit of t...

  Die Blechtrommel   The Tin Drum by Günter Grass holds a special place in my life. It has history. Growing up in Germany, I am reading it for the first time in 1966, at the tender age of thirteen. Later I keep returning, to the English translation as well. Published in 1959, the novel is part of early post World War Two literature engaging in the necessary work of collective re-membering via literature – Erinnerungsliteratur . There is no walking forward without doing the work of “re-collecting” as an act of repairing, bringing light and insight. Artists often know how to do this well. Shame, guilt, denial. The novel’s broader historical setting is familiar to me already, thanks to my unique parents. Both looking to new ways of dealing personally and collectively with the nation’s horrific past. Political satire, subtle and grotesque humor, poetic imagery, all embodied by the voice of the ‘untrustworthy’ narrator named Oskar. For my young teenage spirit, the style of magic r...

My Snake Skin   Once upon a time – a long long time ago – there was and was not, a little girl traveling over the big big ocean on a big big ship, as big as a village, or even bigger. She was not alone however. Her mother, father and brother were there too. On this boat life seemed strange and boring. All around were grey sky and ocean, sometimes blue. And waves, nothing else. People speaking all kind of languages, sitting in deck chairs, reading, bundled up. But when they land, it becomes interesting. Finally, they have arrived on this other continent. The family is going to live in the south of Brazil, far far from Germany.  A new life.  In a simple small home. And a yard with banana, mulberry, goiaba (guava), maracujá and orange trees, date palms and many bright big flowers. Magic all around. The little girl is called Jutta. She feels very close to her brother Heiner who is one year younger. They play outside all the time. It is balmy, sometimes hot, lots of sun. And r...

  Knowing Last night, on New Year’s Eve, 2025, I am flooded with immense gratitude, bigger than life. To honor it, I finally write about something specifically sacred to me. With its intense flame, the essence of the story is burning inside me. Today, ten years ago, my Mama puts her simple paper affairs one more time in order with the assistance of Edeltraut, her trustworthy helper who comes twice a day. It’s New Year’s Eve – Sylvester . I speak to her on the phone, my morning, her evening already, nine hours difference. “Like you, I am not going to do anything, just go to bed early,” I say. She falls asleep and never wakes up again. That night of hers is my day here. Despite not having heard yet of her death, I seem to know. The irrepressible urge to drive to Point Reyes for a walk on the beach. When two hospice workers drop by bringing confusing news about the service for my husband Bob, I blurt out impatiently: “I need to go, can’t figure this out now.” At the ocean, my feet are...

  Leseratten   It’s not fashionable with human beings, but I must admit that I admire the curious and inventive intelligence of rats. I have even written a couple of children stories, in one a desert rat features prominently, in the other a white pet rat. And from Garland (owner of Rat Patrol) I have learned over the decades many things about city rats’ lives and behavior. Today I will introduce you to two different rats, and of course they are as smart as any other. They know to make themselves useful: by being Leseratten . Reading Rats – how do you like that? In English this term would perhaps be translated to bookworms. In German we call anybody – young people especially – who get easily and endlessly lost in books: Leseratten , reading rats. I was one of those kids. An endangered species now. Rare, forgotten. Till it might come back into fashion… digital is only one of many ways to feel connected. Let me introduce you to Lupina and Marco, dressed in red-patterned and black...

  Thin Skinned Darkness Has emerged for us on earth. How are we going to ride it?   Paradoxically, as a child, I experience thin-skinned darkness in the majestic pathless unpeopled forests. The canopy of tall trees, whispering high above to each other in secret languages. Leaving us humans on the moss-covered bottom in the dark. Soft bare feet. Mama in her wide long light-blue skirt, smiling Papa, little brother, little sister, further off, invisible and yet present. Family is spread far apart. I know their presence. Der Wald ist dunkel, und schön. Durchsichtig. Transparent. Dünnhäutig , thin skinned. We each ­– sammeln Beeren – collect buckets of berries, blue and red, in pregnant silence. Blaubeeren, Walderdbeeren, Waldhimbeeren. Blau und Rot. Food to be transformed into a simple dish, berries with milk – heavenly. And jam or jelly for the winter, our vitamin supply.   The fifties in Bavaria, Germany. Post war. Our displaced small family. For me as a young girl, time...

Language as Vehicle and Vessel   Sunday late morning – still so much fog wafting, mystical and mysterious – engulfed in shades of grey. What will the future bring us? Where will it go? How will it look like? Unknown. Seeking anchor, I am reflecting on the last few days, my encounters with German and Jewish friends. All week, history has been visiting me, triggering vivid memories. Opening internal space, where I am free to roam. Vast time spans and continents interweave their landscapes as I am preparing my late breakfast. Come on a ride with me.   Surprisingly, I am in a really good mood. Splurging on a home-made espresso, a rare occasion these days. Getting out my old Bialetti stovetop Moka pot. The fresh coffee beans are called “Grounds for Innocence,” a blend by Bongo Roasting Company in Tennessee, created as a fundraiser for the Innocence Project . This organization has been fighting since 1992 to free the innocently incarcerated, prevent wrongful convictions, and reform ...