Sister Karen and Brothers will Wait!

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The last paragraph of this essay sums up the naturally sweet generosity of my sister Karen.  It's how Karen Lynn is in a nutshell. 

Wrapping up the female family half of the story from a single journal publication, I wrote:

At home in Chicago’s outskirts, deliberately perched at the head of the table, his large, calloused fingers interlaced, head bowed, he began, “Thank you dear god for the food we are about to receive,” then his head shoots up, hands open, he smiles and yelled, “dig in!” His weary wife and us nine children respond accordingly.

My father, with a complete working red, green and yellow stop light in our driveway including a functioning parking meter, was only serious minded when it came to dedication, which pretty much includes a lot.
A slew of hungry of and growing children, nightly at five pm, were filled with happiness because each of knew that, “Dig in!” would come without delay.

I avoid the food fight.  My plate empty, Karen notices. My sister Karen sees the look on my face, slides me hers and whispers, “Don’t tell anybody.”