Cover photo for Karla Reynolds's Obituary
Karla Reynolds Profile Photo
1954 Karla 2021

Karla Reynolds

June 6, 1954 — November 1, 2021

June 6, 1954 - November 1, 2021

Karla Marie Anderson, 67 was born to Della (Plourde) and Dave Anderson in the month of roses in Van Buren, ME, in tiny Hotel Dieu. She became the oldest of six sisters. She spent summers in Stockholm, ME, shuttling between her French Catholic and Swedish Lutheran grandparents. She went to UMaine Orono in the 70's as her Dad had in the 50's.

We met washing dishes in the cafeteria at Stodder Hall. For reasons still murky and still being investigated by several prestigious psychological journals, Karla was intrigued by this smoking hot, gnomish yokel from the backwoods of ME. And as luck would have it, we could visit in the wee hours of curfew because of the fire escape outside her dorm window. We were married on a beautiful October day in 1976 in Poughkeepsie, NY.

After an initial job programming at Travelers in Hartford, CT, Karla made a career out of semiconductor design at IBM in Essex Jct., VT, and we made our life surrounded by the backdrop of Lake Champlain in outer Malletts Bay. Desiring an adventure for our 50's, we went West to Pocatello in 2004. Along the way Karla transitioned into work without pay, partnering with Betty and Abdu and anonymous benefactors to build a Christian school in Mbiko, Uganda. She also loved working on Feed the 5000, an interfaith ministry that raises funds for the Idaho Foodbank.

Karla was born an executive in a world that sometimes shortchanged. She was a globe-trekker, a creative cook, a voracious reader, and a fierce friend. And it would be remiss not to mention a few who became sisters in spirit, travel and solace: Mary Anne, Rosey, June, and Michelle. It is also essential to thank the sheltering angels at Portneuf Cancer Center and the Huntsman Cancer Institute for the times you took to listen when you didn't have the time to listen. We can never thank you enough.

Karla wanted very much to never leave. Even when every breath was an ordeal, she craved communion with her kids. To be a mother was to talk long and to talk often with her enduring gifts: David, Andrea, and Rachel. She leaves a loss we cannot fill.

But I will remember this: 46 years ago on a cold November night, you reached out for my hand on a fire escape. Today is just the same Karla Marie. I take your hand in mine.

--Clark Reynolds

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