The adventures of DaddyBird and Kangayayaroo as they move from the United Arab Emirates to Shanghai, China, and venture to explore the Eastern hemisphere from there.
Joy was her middle name. Karla Joy Castle. (Née Kessell.)
The day before Karla passed, while a few of the family were talking to her, and Karla was signing some documents, my sister-in-law noticed her middle name, and asked if there was a reason it was given to her. In response, Karla told us this story, which I didn’t remember hearing before.
When Karla’s mother found out that she was pregnant with her, she was not very happy. Karla was a surprise baby. Her parents hadn’t planned on having anymore children, and the other children were well on their way to being grown, their current youngest being 9 years old. A neighbor tried to cheer her up by saying, “Don’t worry, this baby will be a joy to you.” So she was given that as a middle name.
And to those of us who knew Karla, she very typically did bring joy. She was generally a fairly quiet person, but when someone needed help, she was quick to speak up and to act.
Instances of Karla bringing joy into people’s lives are numerous. In one case, when Karla was in fifth grade and she and several other students were gathering for an activity, Karla made a point of asking Lonnie, a fellow student who wasn’t always included, to join them. This was the start of a great friendship between them that lasted the rest of Karla’s life.
When Karla and I married, and I joined her in Portland, OR, I found that she was very well respected at the college she worked at by faculty and students for being helpful, competent, and pleasant. A professor recalled, “Karla was willing to do/try anything new that contributed to the students’ love of learning. She was a wonderful colleague.” I benefitted from her good reputation; her friends presumed that if Karla had chosen me, then I must be OK.
In the first summer after our marriage, when we were visiting family, Karla was sitting with my daughter, Rachel, and having fun helping her cut out paper dolls. After a while Rachel looked up at me and said, “Daddy, are you finally having a happy marriage?” I smiled and said, ‘Yes, I am.” To which Rachel replied, “Good, because I really love Karla.”
Her good professional reputation endured when Karla worked in the library at an international school in Shanghai, and had local assistants, she put great effort and enthusiasm into training them as much as she could, After working for Karla for a while, one of her assistants exclaimed to her, ”You’re always helping people! You’re always teaching!”
Karla engendered joy with her sense of humor as well. The hours of laughter we had together were many. And when at a gathering, most friends knew that the best seat in the house was next to Karla, where she would joyfully exchange hilarious, often snarky comments with her neighbor. As one dear friend said, “She was wickedly funny. I loved sitting next to her when we went out for dinner as we always giggled so much.”
I, of course, was the recipient of the most joy, because of Karla. Living with Karla was always fun and adventurous. She was always a stalwart, enthusiastic companion during our life and travels around the world. Her enduring love for me was evident, even when I made mistakes.
Indeed, both literally and figuratively, Joy was her middle name.
In her last days, Karla told me something very sweet. She said that I made her brave. She said that she could be brave during the day at work, because she had me to come home to in the evening. That was quite kind of her, but I don’t feel that I can take credit for her bravery. She exhibited bravery long before I entered her life.
By the time I met her, Karla had left the small town in Oregon that she grew up in to go to college, ending up at Columbia Christian College in Portland, OR, where we eventually met. At CCC she elected to major in Biblical Studies. At that time the Biblical Studies program was primarily meant to prepare young men to preach the Gospel and to enter the ministry. There were no female preachers allowed to preach or be ministers in our denomination back then. So if a woman entered the Biblical Studies program, it was assumed that she was intending to become a preacher’s wife. It was joked that she was pursuing an “MRS” degree. But Karla chose Biblical Studies just because she was interested in studying the Bible deeply. So she abhorred being asked why she was in the Biblical Studies program, because of the assumption. But she continued, despite the annoyance, despite the befuddlement of others.
In fact, in one case, there was a visiting preacher in one of her classes. Before he started his lesson, he looked directly at Karla, and said, “What are you doing here?”. But the harassment did not deter her. Rather, she excelled in the program. When I came to CCC, and got to know some of her classmates, it was clear that Karla impressed them. One said, “Oh, Karla’s really sharp. She’s an ace at New Testament Greek!” Some of the Classmates even sought her advice when working on their N.T. Greek homework. When, years later, I brought up their awe at her ability she said, “Yeah, Greek was interesting, but I liked Old Testament Hebrew much more.” Despite her prowess, Greek wasn’t even her ‘thing’.
Karla’s bravery continued after college. For a time she returned home to help take care of her father when he contracted cancer. She pursued and earned a Master’s Degree in Library Science. And she continued living life in her own way. This eventually helped us get reacquainted, and then married. We reconnected in mid 2000, and at first were just trading emails for a few months. But later in the year, a close relative passed away, so my entire family went up for the funeral in Idaho, my brothers riding along with me in my car. On the way back, I decided to visit Karla in Portland, OR. Only one of my brothers cared to join me on this side trip, but we had a very nice time with Karla, sharing a few meals, as well as other fun activities. We went to see the X-men movie that was in theaters at the time, because we both enjoyed it very much, to the point that we each had seen it several times, and had bonded over it in our emails. On the evening that we left, we had dinner and a pleasant conversation with Karla. She said she was thinking at the time that this was a nice bookend to our relationship. Until I ruined everything when I said these words, “I’d like to see more of you.” Instead of putting a cap on our relationship, this accelerated it. This caused her to think, “Well, maybe…” and she started considering me seriously as a partner. And then she took action
She declared to herself that 2001 would be “The Year of Bravery”. She would take on things that scared her. One was to take belly dancing lessons. Another was to pursue me. In that cause she came down to California to visit me and meet my family. She hit it off very well with my parents, and my brothers. A fact that brought much happiness to our relationship, then and for decades to come. During her visits she even went on job interviews in the interest of moving down to California to be with me. But at that time the Dot Com bubble burst. I was even laid off from two different tech jobs within two weeks. But unlike many people in the tech industry, including my much more qualified brother, I had some job leads. But, fortuitously, all of these job leads ended up being in Portland. So instead of her moving to California, I moved to Oregon. Once I arrived, we were married in just a few days. Very, very brave of her.
So while I will take credit for encouraging her, I will certainly not take credit for her bravery. That fully belonged to her. She learned to live life with bravery, and that contributed enormously to our life together.
It feels a bit awkward and grim to bring this up, but it must be said. Karla’s bravery did not abandon her when the spectre of cancer and mortality presented itself. She faced the many tests and treatments with her hallmark courage, determination, and humor. And here I might be willing to accept a tiny bit of credit in supporting her, since during the final years I helped her get to a multitude of doctor appointments, and camped out in many hospital rooms with her for days and even weeks. But the real truth is that she made it easy to be her caretaker, enduring the trying situations with patience, grace, and thankfulness.
Karla remained so until the very end. In spite of the awfulness of the situation and being bedridden, our last weeks together were some of the sweetest we ever had. She left me feeling grateful that I’d been given the privilege of being her primary caregiver during that time. Grateful that she had come into and changed my life so beautifully, despite our time together being much shorter than we wished.
Being a part of her life was and is inspiring. As Karla’s best friend Lonnie has said, “She took the lemons in life and made her own kind of lemonade.” Indeed.
Another remembrance about my wonderful late wife, Karla Castle.
During Karla’s last stay in the hospital, we were talking, and the idea popped into my head of asking her if she would marry me all over again if she had the opportunity. I did not do so because I thought I might not like the answer.
I didn’t want to hear a less than wholeheartedly positive response. I was afraid she might equivocate. I was hardly a perfect husband and had caused plenty of problems over the years. I imagined that she might say something like, “Well, we’ve had some fun, but I wouldn’t want to have to relive some of your foolishness.” So I didn’t ask the question. I said a few sweet nothings and left it at that, rather than risk hearing an unwelcome answer.
But I was wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
In her last weeks, Karla’s main concern seemed to be letting people know how much she loved and appreciated them. And a few days before she passed, while reflecting on her life she spontaneously told me that if she could go back and relive her life, and retain the knowledge she had gained over the years, she would not wait for us to meet in college as we did in 1983.
Instead, as soon as she was an adult and could strike out on her own, she would come down to California and find me and start our life together much sooner. In effect, she wouldn’t just marry me all over again, but she would share life with me for nearly twice as long. (We had dated a little in college, then I dropped out and left, and didn’t manage to stay in touch with her. It wasn’t until 16 years later that we got back in touch with each other through a mutual friend, then got married. She wished to reclaim those years, if it had been possible.)
I was flabbergasted. I didn’t expect any such thing. I knew that she loved me, but that much? So desperately that she would totally change the course of our lives if she could, just to spend more time with me? It’s the best compliment I have ever been given. More accurately, it’s the best compliment that I could EVER get. I will never achieve anything greater than earning the love and respect of this outstanding woman. Overwhelmingly amazing.
And this was not just an emotional declaration on her death bed. Shortly after she passed, I found a journal from a couple of years before, where she went into this idea in greater detail, explaining the major changes she would make to her life, if she could. So I don’t just have to take her passing word about this. I have hard copy. I have physical proof that she had spent a great deal of time and thought considering this.
I should have known, of course. The clues are obvious, in retrospect. Even though Karla was usually pretty stoic and didn’t say a lot of lovey-dovey things- she always said that I was the more romantic one- she did let me know in her own way that she loved me dearly. Nevermind the many years we spent together happily. In that conversation in the hospital she said things that were obvious indicators.
During that discussion I said, “Thank you for being my wife.” She replied, “Thank you for being my lobster.” (It’s a reference to a bit from the TV show Friends, look it up, or see my previous post, “Soul Mates”.) Later, I said, “I wish I could trade places with you.” She said, “NO. You are not allowed to die before me. I wouldn’t want to live without you.”
So that’s how dense I am. It was always right in front of me. Now, when I think back on those happy years, it’s obvious. She didn’t usually say much more than, “I love you.”, But replaying those moments in my head, I can now recognize the passion behind them even more. She didn’t just say that she loved me, but she often said it in a cute or silly way, or otherwise put some emphasis behind it
And as the years went by, her patience and acceptance just grew greater and more evident. At one point, later in our marriage, we were discussing a financial difficulty that came up. (Probably caused by me.) After working the problem over for a little while she said, “Oh well, It’s only money. We’ll work it out.” I was surprised. I immediately thought, “Who is this woman that has replaced my wife? The pod people have obviously been here and replaced her with a doppelganger that looks like her, but she’s saying the wrong things!” There were even times where I thought, “She’s being pretty cool about this. She could rightfully be more angry at me about it.” But she very evidently had decided to value me over whatever the difficulty was, and give just enough importance to problems that was required to resolve them.
I could go on and on. (And probably will in future posts.) On her phone, I found an informal will and testament she had typed into the notes app. Within it she charged me with NOT hoarding all her former belongings, and ended her instructions with this: “Always remember that I love you deeply.”
About a year and a half before she passed, I was thinking about her, and my love for her, and I decided that I should do more. Romantic feelings can ebb and wane in a marriage, naturally, so I decided that in addition to my everpresent practical love for her, I should just be more IN LOVE with her. I should adore her even more, and cultivate those romantic feelings. Tough duty, eh?
It was worth it. We were closer than ever during those months, and had many beautiful, sweet times together.
But now I feel like I was just catching up to her. In those sweet days that I took care of her at the end, I came to understand, and she made it clearer than ever before, how much she loved and appreciated me. I think it would take me a lifetime of work to show my appreciation of her enough. My love wasn’t even in the same league with hers. even though I tried.
How precious to be loved like that. I have had a relationship that few ever get. Her presence in my life was a tremendous blessing, and buoys me as I continue on without her.
One of my very favorite pictures of Karla and myself. Just our hands, lightly clasped. It was a lovely evening together and with friends in a tea lounge in Dubai. I think to was taken by Devina Devecha, but Aasiya Jagadeesh took a very similar picture at about the same time, and I might have got the two images mixed up. I’m contacting both of these wonderful ladies and trying to resolve this conundrum. Will update when the mystery is solved, but thank you both for capturing this tender, happy moment.
Did you know Karla? Were you a friend, or co-worker, or family member? If you were, and have a story or anecdote about her or time spent together, I would like to hear it! Please contact me by email or social media, or leave a comment on this blog.
I’ve written a few remembrances of my late wife, Karla. Here’s the first:
I have long eschewed the term “soul mates”. It just tends to be overused. And too often by that acquaintance you have who declares that their latest new love is their ‘soul mate’, only to break up with that person in a few weeks.
The expression seems like a lofty one to me, which few are likely to achieve. (It really must be so, for it to carry much meaning.) A truly deep meaningful relationship, built on uncommon compatibility and forged with determination and acceptance. Seems like high praise that one should not confer upon oneself or one’s relationship in a frivolous manner. So I was never so bold as to claim it, despite being in a very compatible and happy relationship.
But I’m being hypocritical, really. Because Karla and I regularly used another term, which means basically the same thing. That term is “lobster”. ( It’s a reference from the TV show “Friends”. Look it up.) We were just right for each other. We were meant to be together. And we grew closer together with all the trials and travel we experienced. Our abodes have long been festooned with lobster themed paraphernalia, as a frequent reminder of our close relationship.
So, what made me reconsider the appellation of “soul mates”? Of course I have done a lot of reflection since Karla passed. But then a dear friend commented on one of my posts online, and mentioned that we were soul mates. I guess the outside affirmation made me reconsider the application of the phrase.
Others certainly considered our relationship to be something special. And it was absolutely a pleasure to be in it, and consistently remained so for years. When we were early in our relationship, before we got married, my father observed us laughing and talking together for a while, then said to my mother, “Oh, they’re going to be fine together. They have the same evil brain!” Our commonality made it easy to be partners, and gave us much to build on when it was just she and I against the world.
O.K., I’ll claim it. Karla and I were meant for each other. We were each other’s ‘lobster’. We were soul mates.
It was true before and its even true-r now. Our “Travel Channel” days were over years ago. But now, except for me, our little traveling family is gone. Karla succumbed to cancer on October 26th, 2025. A few weeks after she last posted on this blog, she started to become very sick, and did not recover. The cancer had re-emerged and she was not strong enough for the treatments that only had a limited chance of success anyway. Our cats have passed as well. Oliver the Loud passed about three weeks before Karla, and Big Eyed Bert passed in March of this year. Both cats were 16 years old, and had been showing sign of age for several years.
Now I alone survive. (My daughter lives with me, so I am not by myself.) At the end of January, 2026, I had a stroke that affected my left side. I was unable to walk or use my left arm for several weeks. Thankfully my memory and cognition were not affected. With physical therapy and exercise, I have relearned how to walk, and regained use of my arm. Recovery is still in progress, but has developed enough that I have been able to return to work, with some accommodations. If I achieve full recovery, it will likely take many more months, but my recovery, so far, has been rapid, and my physical therapists have been tremendously helpful and positive. I am largely independent again.
Given all this, it will be a while before I travel again, if at all. I am ‘homesick’ for the rest of the world, but I will likely have to be content with the multitude of wonderful memories from around the globe, made with Karla. I have had an amazing life; more than most people experience, so I find no reason to complain.
Karla was a wonderful companion and partner, and she only became more so at the end. Her main concern seemed to be making sure that everyone knew that she appreciated and loved them, all our friends and family, not the least of which was me. She expressed very sweet and deep feelings for me. Spending time with her and taking care of her was a delight. I am very glad that I was privileged enough to do so. Our last days together were some of our best and happiest, despite the situation.
Going forward is a difficult transition. I hope to be of use to the community, and there are many possibilities now that I am single again that I had put off to care for Karla. I have plenty to live for, and my family is very supportive. I am living in Silicon Valley, San Jose, CA to be exact, which is even more expensive than Dubai or Shanghai, if you can imagine, and not overly attractive. (And, oddly, this ‘metropolis’ doesn’t even have the sort of skyscrapers and architecture that dominate those cities.) I call it “Asphalt Valley”. What used to be a lovely, natural bayside valley, then was covered with orchards after the settlers came, Has been thoroughly paved over and covered in concrete. Fortunately, many natural areas still exist just a short drive beyond the city limits.
I have been writing a few short remembrances of Karla, which I will likely post here, as well as read in a memorial video that I am planning, with input from those that loved her.
Karla and I lamented towards the end that one of the few drawbacks of having so many friends around the world is that most are unable to be nearby at such times as this. Many have asked about a memorial service for Karla, which we may have locally, but an online remembrance video will be important, to include as many people as possible. Please excuse me for taking so long on these matters. Between greif over Karla’s death and my stroke, it has been a difficult time for getting things done.
I’m thinking about changing the name of the blog to reflect my ongoing situation, but for now it will remain the same in honor of the travel experiences Karla wrote so much about over the years. Perhaps at some point I will rename it “Back from the World” or something.
Unless you had a deprived childhood, you probably remember And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street by Dr. Seuss. We have been in Shanghai China for nearly 3 years now (coming up this August) and we feel as if we live on Mulberry Street. We may all have our own interpretation of what that book is about, but for me it is about imagination and about keeping your eyes open to the world around you. The amazing, wondrous world around you.
Whether it is the homeless man drawing the Mona Lisa in chalk on the sidewalk.
Or laundry day and roof top pigeon coops
Or horrifyingly ugly kiddie rides
Or bad driving (thank you truck for blocking the entire crosswalk and making pedestrians walk around you)
Or truth in labelling
Or determination to get where one is going
Or a good old fashioned bicycle
Or unusual toys (notice this wooden 3D puzzle of an uzi pistol is for 6 years and up – use responsibly)
Or the ubiquitous recycling carts
Or a random toilet
Or the beauty of the old and random
Or eggs being sold on the sidewalk
Or the tiny (fantastic) restaurant in an alleyway
Or advice emblazoned on the back of a stranger
Some of which should not be followed
More chaotic traffic
More recycling
Amusing (or insulting) signs
The Friday suitcase brigade (They will be going straight from work to the train station. Also, it is easier to roll one’s suitcase in the street than on the sidewalk.)
Again with the bad traffic
Street washers filling up their tanks from a hydrant
Food or pets?
More recycling
And the colors of a summer rain shower.
I have more pictures, but I don’t want to task your patience. You get the idea. Every day is an adventure if you live on Mulberry Street.
We spent five days in Leh, India which is in the Himalaya mountain range at an altitude of over 11,500 feet. Our first day was spent sleeping and trying to get over the altitude sickness. We woke up around 2 pm, walked to the nearest cafe to have lunch and then right back to the hotel to sleep some more. We were mostly okay by the second day, but were not ready for anything strenuous.
Leh is both beautiful, as you can see above, and rustic.
We took it easy, ate lots of good food…
… saw plenty of cows, dogs, and donkeys …
Why did we go to Leh? You might ask. We were invited by a dear friend to join her and her family to celebrate her birthday. It was a pretty spectacular place for a birthday party. Aside from the altitude sickness and the unseasonable warm weather, we enjoyed ourselves immensely.
We vacationed in Kuala Lumpur. We only spent 6 days there which was not long enough. It was our first time leaving the cats at home while we traveled, so we kept it short.
Kuala Lumpur was an interesting combination of old and new, tropical and urban.
Some construction projects in Dubai continued, some slowed, and some stopped until further notice. The Dubai Metro train continued as the completion dates were extended more than once. The red line opened in September and the green line stretched into 2011.
We attended a few bull butting competitions in Fujairah.
Dubai continued to supply amusing sites and wonders.
The Burj Khalifa opened in January, but we waited until the crowds died down a bit before going up to the observation deck for a look around.
Ford Middle East had a promotional event involving test drives. I rode as a passenger with a professional driver doing figure 8s at high speed. Thankful for the helmet since my head kept banging against the door.
Dubia traffic continued to provide sites and wonders. I’m certain this vehicle wasn’t designed for street travel and passengers.
We drove out to Al Ain to explore some of the historical sites.
Above is the Hili Fort in Al Ain. Below is the date grove next to it.
We drove up Jebel Hafeet to see the sunset.
When one goes to a mall in Dubai, one never knows what will happen. DaddyBird got to hold a falcon for the first time.
Here’s a little souvenir I came across today while sorting the clutter of my life. Each Emirate handles alcohol differently. Some conservative, some liberal. Dubai requires an alcohol license for purchasing alcohol in the well hidden liquor stores. All one needed was a “letter of no objection” from one’s employer and, of course, payment of a fee. No one asked to see it other than the liquor store clerks and we didn’t bother to renew it. One can buy alcohol in other emirates without a license, so why bother?
We revisited Al Hamriyah Free Zone beach which is one of the most beautiful places on Earth, or at least it was in 2009. We haven’t been back in a while so can’t be sure it hasn’t been “developed.”
The sand isn’t sand. It is pulverized shells.
This “temporary” sign was solidly set in concrete on the east side of the Dubai Mall construction site. It did eventually disappear. The parking lots of the mall are so horrible, that they are once again under construction. The spiral ramp to the fashion parking (one of the few easy ways to get in) has been completely ripped out, apparently, to make way for an opera house.
I discovered that house wrens are crafty little nest builders who weave palm branches together.
This is one of my favorite photos and is iconic of Dubai 2009. There was construction everywhere. This site is now the landing of a much needed and heavily used flyover. Why they left that bus bench sitting out there, I have no idea.
Another Dubai icon, the exclamation mark caution sign.
We discovered the joys of walking into back street eateries. Great food, very cheap.
Our collection of crazy battery operated toys began. We are now redistributing these to lucky friends.
We went for our first abra ride on Dubai Creek.
We went to the Dubai Museum (which is more of a time capsule than a museum).
We discovered Bu Qtair. The restaurant has received a fair amount of publicity over the years. Even Anthony Bourdain has eaten there. The notoriety has increased business and they built onto the modular building, but people still eat great fried fish while sitting on plastic chairs at plastic tables in the dark. Long may Bu Qtair survive! We will miss our tradition of eating here on New Year’s Eve and then watching the fireworks at Burj Al Arab.
We discovered other important restaurants this year – Bait Al Baghdadi on Al Muteena Street and Special Ostadi on Al Mussalla Road.
During the summer, we went on a long, exhausting trip that included a week in London, several weeks in the States and ended with a week in Wales. In the process, we attended seven plays including a Shakespearean play at the Globe and Waiting for Godot starring Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen. While in Wales, we also saw the Banksy exhibit in Bristol. A pretty amazing summer.
We rescued two kittens from the streets of Dubai. Oliver was first and he turned out to be so high maintenance, that we added Bert in hopes that they could entertain each other. Thankfully, Oliver has mellowed with age and Bert has proved to be amazingly patient.
We discovered the kushti wrestling that takes place near the fish market on Fridays.
For the first time, we had dinner with friends at Bu Qtair and watched the fireworks display on the beach.
DaddyBird
kangayayaroo
