One Legacy

Nana’s house never really had a front door—at least, not one that stayed closed for long. Growing up as one of thirteen children, Karen was used to the noise and the constant hum of life. But she wasn't just a part of the crowd; she was the "Black Sheep," the one my great-grandmother called a "Free Spirit" and others whispered was a "Gypsy” or “Witch”. We called her Nana.

She was a woman who lived at full volume. Long before she was our anchor, she was a whirlwind in the Texas honky-tonks, dancing the "dirty shimmy" with country music stars and holding her own at a poker table fueled by endless coffee. She was the one teaching us how to bend over backwards to pick up a handkerchief with our teeth—a feat of grace that proved she could always stand back up, no matter what life threw at her.

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