Mom and dad were going to be missionaries in Kenya, so we were heading overseas. New things, changes and challenges for all! I don’t remember saying goodbye to grandma and grandpa Nichols. I doubt I had any idea of how long we’d be gone.  Grandma told me later, “We were proud of your folks, their dedication to serve God.” Another time when I was an adult, she said she’d been thinking, “How can they take those two little girls all the way to Africa!?” *

I didn’t know my dad’s parents as well as I knew mom’s parents.  We did go to their place sometimes. To me it had seemed big and full of cousins. I remember riding on a lawn tractor with Grandpa Coon or being pulled behind that tractor in a little wagon with other cousins.  It was dad’s parents that took us to the port to board a passenger ship.  I believe it was the SS United States.  From the picture, it looks like they came on board with us briefly. I remember a lot of excitement and noise as the gangplanks came in. As I remember it, we were above the dock on a deck with other people. Somehow, many passengers had big spools of paper streamer. They were holding an end and throwing the big spool with the other end to their friends on the dock. I think maybe dad threw one to his parents.  The ship bellowed, and started to move, Dad held me up while mom held Tammy. The streamers stretched, tore symbolic of the separation happening.

On the ship, all four of us lived together in a little room.  The room swayed like a cradle and rumbled like heartbeats. I remember loving that feeling at night. We ate with other people in a big room. All that tables had white tablecloths and so many spoons, knives and forks.

We were heading for London where mom and dad would attend language school to get a good start on learning Swahili. A vivid memory I have of London is of huge rocking horse in the “nursery school” where I stayed while mom was in school.  That rocking horse was brown and smooth and was taller than I was.  So fun! We took huge red buses to get places. I remember them looming and dipping when they stopped. Once, I’m told, Dad said, “OK we need to get on this one”.  I apparently dropped his hand and dodged through the people to get on. I was on the steps when he called me to stop and get down. Apparently, I obeyed just in time since they couldn’t get through the crowd to get on that bus.

Dad apparently used to take photos of us in front of things that interested him, rather like people take selfies today.  The one on the left said, “Karen and chimney pots of London”, and on the right, “Karen and the white cliffs of Dover after the accident.”

That was the accident that changed my left hand. This is what I remember of what I was later told. In London, the cars were narrower, smaller than the ones dad was used to. Dad saw my right hand in the door of the far side of the car, didn’t realize I was trying and succeeding to stretch across the back seat, and slammed the car door on my left hand. My sister, although less than two years old, said she remembers the shock and horror of seeing me injured. In addition, apparently, the doctors gave me penicillin for infection, and I had a violent reaction. I remember none of this.  I wonder if perhaps I have blanked out painful memories, or if my security in my parent’s love made the incident unimportant. The middle finger of my left hand is still shorter than that of my right hand and the final joint will not bend. Mom said later tha those were difficult weeks for her. Tammy was little and I wasn’t well. It was autumn and the rooms we were in were cold. Apparently, the landlords would not allow any heat since it was not yet the proper date for the heat to be turned on. No matter where we were, we sat together in the evening to read a Bible story, and to pray together. A stable and reassuring part of my life as the family looked to God.

*For me, memory consists of something like video clips with all sensations and emotions included. To make any sense, all memories need the context of larger story as I understand what others have said. I ask pardon of anyone who shared parts of the story and remembers differently.