The blinds drawn, lights off, I leaned over Mama's hospital bed and rubbed her neck. "I don't know how you manage to be so strong," I said. "It's like my mama always told me," she answered. "Root little pig or die." My mother has spent[..]
“This day is not a sieve, losing time. With each passing minute, each passing year, there’s this deepening awareness that I am filling, gaining time. We stand on the brink of eternity.” Ann Voskamp When that soldier came to our little trailer house in 1966[..]
Morrow County Courthouse A watercolor of Scottish man in a kilt playing the fiddle took the Judge’s Choice Award. I know because I was the judge who awarded it. I’m not sure what time we got home last night but when I stepped into the[..]
A friend once told me how difficult it was for her to adjust to the military way of life. She had grown up a product of prosperity. Her father had discovered some necessary component to something in the music industry and had made a tidy[..]
The argument over health care is politically-charged and I have nothing much to add to it other than choices matter. They can make the difference between life and death, between a good life or a miserable one. Mama has choices, and for this day I'm[..]
Mama is sitting at the edge of her bed eating a biscuit with jam and drinking a tall black coffee from McDonalds, which Mama declares is pretty good coffee. I am the culprit who snuck the "real food" in. Mama says you can tell everybody[..]
A week ago I was in a hospital in Spokane, Washington celebrating the birth of our first grandchild. There were tears that day, too, but of a different sort. Tears of joy. I remember little from all those religion classes I took at University but[..]
I think a lot about words, how we use them and how prevalent certain words are. Recently I had a discussion with someone about breast pumps. There was a time in my life when breast pump was common terminology in our household and in conversations with friends. When[..]
Thirty-three years ago today, I drank a bottle of Castor oil and got sicker than a yard dog with scours. This after I'd eaten half a watermelon. This after I'd gone nearly four weeks overdue with my firstborn. It's not just some old wives tale.[..]
Author/Journalist Karen Spears Zacharias is a Gold Star daughter and an alumna of Oregon State University, Shepherd University and University of West Scotland.
Karen's work has been featured in the Washington Post, New York Times, CNN, National Public Radio, and Good Morning America.
Her debut novel, Mother of Rain (Mercer University Press), received the Weatherford Award for Best in Appalachian Fiction from Berea College and was adapted for the stage by Georgia's Historic State Theater, The Springer. In 2018, Karen was named Appalachian Heritage Writer by Shepherd University, and Mother of Rain was chosen as the One Book One West Virginia Read.
Her first true crime book A Silence of Mockingbirds was chosen by the city of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, as the One City Read.
The Murder Gene is her second true crime work.
Karen and her husband, Tim, make their home in Deschutes County, Oregon.
For more information on Karen and her books, click here