Ally Karsyn

Arts Producer/Announcer

 

He was once an aspiring attorney who wound up becoming a pastor. 

Ally Karsyn
Jordan Edens Photography

"You must have babies so the Muslims don’t take over!”

The residential care facility fades from the rearview mirror. My 24-year-old son, sitting in the passenger seat, turns to me. With a straight face, he says, “If I would have known hitting someone would free me, Pam-e-la, I would have manned up and hit someone long ago. I knew I was being a pussy.”

Ines Cervantes
Ally Karsyn

A story of two strangers searching for strength.  

 

You think it’s hot here? Try living in Houston. Each year, conductor and cellist Thomas Fortner looks forward to leaving urbanity for a lakeside retreat, where he can meet with others who share his passion for classical music and reconnect with why he does this work.

Little Red Riding Hood, the Big Bad Wolf and the Three Little Pigs—it’s a mixed-up fairytale world in “Uh-Oh!,” a musical written and composed by Diana Wooley, CEO of LAMB Arts Regional Theatre.

Shelby Pierce
Ally Karsyn

When I think about my experience growing up here in Sioux City, I think about my five older brothers and sisters and my parents like this umbrella over the top of me that took some hits by the rain that I didn’t.

Over the past two weeks, we’ve heard several poems by Jeanne Emmons, professor emeritus of English and writing at Briar Cliff University. She’s an avid canoeist, who found a well of inspiration from her humble boat.

"The Red Canoe Awakens to a Spider Web" is the last poem in her soon-to-published, 32-page book.

She can feel it shivering in the

slight breath of morning, between

the thwart and the rear seat, the filaments

radiant in that horizontal light, making

Mark Scheffer
Ally Karsyn

I was in kindergarten the day my parents came to school with a pan full of cupcakes spelling out “Happy Ayyám-i-Há,” dashes, diacritical marks and all. My classmates loved it, of course. Frosting and sprinkles were all they knew or cared about.

 


Jeanne Emmons penned her first poem in kindergarten. Hand-drawn, Crayon colored flowers rimmed the edge of the page. Written to her mother, who kept the note, it said, “You are pretty. Deep, deep pretty.”

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