by Harvey Heagy, Kristi Sykes, and Vicky Ireland
Memories from Harvey Heagy The ACB and the community of people who are blind have suffered a great loss with the sudden death, on Friday, March 29, of Karen Koelling Woodford, 53, of Nebraska and Colorado.
I first met Karen in 1989 at an NFB convention in Denver. Right away, I found her to be one of the most upbeat people I had ever met. She was an avid sports fan, and her favorite football team was the Denver Broncos. Karen was a regular caller to the Joe and Irv sports talk show on the Fan 950 -- so much so that when her apartment caught fire, destroying most of her possessions, the on-air personalities helped in an effort to replace her losses.
Karen was a go-getter -- a person who could tell a stranger in Denver how to get anywhere in that city on a bus.
While attending the Colorado School for the Blind, she and three others formed a singing group called "the Teenmates," which, I am told, did quite a bit of performing.
In recent years, she served as the information director for the Colorado Council of the Blind. When given the opportunity, Karen was a hard worker who would try her best at anything she set out to do. If there was a way to succeed, she found it.
But, most important, Karen was a person of integrity who was never afraid to speak her mind or to stand up for what she thought was right.
In 1991 when I was going through one of the darkest hours of my life, Karen was one of the people who helped me through it. She was there for me during a very difficult time and for that I will always be grateful, and never forget her.
I had the pleasure of hosting Karen for nearly two weeks for Mardi Gras in 1992. Anyone who has been to Mardi Gras in New Orleans knows that it is a very hectic time. The city turns topsy turvy. Cabs are hard to get, and public transportation doesn't work the way it normally does. You can't even count on parades rolling according to schedule because of weather conditions and other variables. So you just have to allow for unpredictability and live with it the best way you can until it's over.
And, to make things more hectic that particular year, I was working the overnight shift at a New Orleans radio station, so I was getting by on very little sleep because I was also trying to get Karen to as many parades as possible so that she could experience the total ambiance of the season. At times, both our nerves became frayed, but as is the case with every Mardi Gras, we got through it and breathed a sigh of relief on Ash Wednesday when it was over for another year.
I put together a souvenir audio cassette album of local broadcast Mardi Gras coverage plus music associated with the season, and Karen loved it so much that she hosted Mardi Gras parties thereafter at her apartment on every subsequent Mardi Gras using those tapes as background.
I had spoken to Karen only casually over the last few years, but she seemed to lose some of that upbeat posture that so dramatically characterized her during the early days of our relationship. We all grow older, though, as we cope with the losses that inevitably come along during the course of our lives, and Karen had a plateful of disappointments to deal with in her own life. I wonder if any one of us would do any better than she did or if we could display the same class and bravery she did.
Karen did not climb Mount Everest or sit on any national board or hold any particularly high office. She was just a normal everyday person like most of the rest of us. But she worked hard and always did her best.
Perhaps I didn't find the right way to do it, but I wish I had done a better job of reaching out to Karen. For me, Karen's death is very hard to deal with because I know of nothing that should have taken her life.
At her own request, there was no funeral or memorial service. It is my understanding that she had remarked to friends that she didn't want any kind of service because she felt that no one really cared about her.
Karen, this article is a testimony as to just how much many people cared about you, and as a Christian, I can only hope that God will one day reveal to you just how much you were loved and cared for. We will miss you very much.
Memories from Kristi Sykes It was sometime in the 1980s, I think, that I first met Karen Woodford. We were both living in Denver then, and we were attending some blindness function or other. A group of us got around to introducing ourselves, and then both of us ended up getting jobs at a telemarketing place.
Karen always had a unique, sometimes amusing, way of looking at things. We worked alongside each other and got on famously. Sometimes we would go to our favorite "watering hole," where we would often entertain one another with anecdotes or responses to whatever was going on in our lives at the time.
Since Karen and her dad had always enjoyed football, we both got a kick out of the Andy Griffith "What It Was Was Football" routine, where he'd say, "I did." She'd call me sometimes and make a comment, and then say, "I did," like Andy. That'd usually get us going.
When I got divorced some years back, Karen was there for me. She was there for me when my dad died. I don't know how I would have made it without her. Karen and I had an unforgettable friendship and I miss her. I feel enriched to have known her.
Memories from Vicky Ireland
I find comfort in remembering the good times Karen and I had together. We laughed more as kids than we did as adults. But we still had plenty of good times even in adulthood.
One memory I'll treasure from a couple of years ago has to do with singing. We were at a non-denominational church service. We just happened to be standing next to one another, sharing in song, a thing we hadn't done for years. We had sung in the recent past, but positionally, we always seemed to be on opposite sides of the room. In that moment of singing, I was again struck by how well she sang with that beautiful contralto voice of hers and how much I enjoyed standing next to her. I dropped out from my harmony just for a quick moment to listen to her sing and just to delight, not only in what she was singing, but in how she was singing. She always sang with such gusto and life, and with such expression. I remember just savoring that moment. And at that particular time, she sure remembered more words than I did of that familiar but not quite remembered hymn. I'll miss those times, and I'll miss her. I can only trust that she now sings even more gloriously, being unencumbered by the things of this old world that sometimes weigh us down. And I'm confident that we'll meet again and once more join in happy song.
I extend heartfelt sympathy to any of you who were Karen's friends or acquaintances who are touched by her sudden exit from this world.