background

Kathleen Kearns

Senior Writer | kkearns@signalhillspot.com

View Work by Kathleen Kearns

Kathleen Kearnspaper clip

A year-long adventure in the developing world has given Kathleen fresh enthusiasm for helping organizations further their missions through story. An award-winning, internationally published writer, Kathleen has been finding and telling compelling stories for more than 25 years.

She develops and implements communications strategies for nonprofit organizations and writes feature articles for magazines, newspapers and online media. She has written the history of a furniture supply company in North Carolina and co-written a book about the legal profession in that state.

Recently, Kathleen served as a pro-bono communications consultant for a conservation and community development organization in Mozambique. During her travels, she also volunteered to teach English to schoolchildren in Peru and to Burmese refugees in Thailand. In the United States, she has taught composition, journalism and creative writing at the university level.

Her writing has appeared in The New York Times Travel Section, The New Republic, local and regional newspapers, alumni magazines, personal finance publications, airline magazines and elsewhere. Her communications work has served such organizations as the John Rex Endowment, EmPOWERment, Inc., the Strowd Roses Foundation, American Baptist Homes of the West and the Council for Health and Human Service Ministries.

Kathleen earned her M.F.A in creative writing from Louisiana State University and her bachelor’s in English from Cornell University. She lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. A chronicle of her travels is still unfolding at allthewideworld.blogspot.com.

Learn about other Signal Hill team members.

Kathleen's Adventure Artifact

November 14, 2010

By: Kathleen Kearns

Kathleen's Adventure Artifactpaper clip

When my sister and I set off to see the world a year ago, my daughter gave me a silly parting gift, a fuzzy stuffed yellow creature meant to represent a giant platelet. With eyes.

“It’s to keep you healthy,” Annie explained. Well, it’s done a good job of that, but it’s done other things too. The platelet soon acquired a name, Xícara, which means teacup in Portuguese. And as we traveled through the developing world, Xícara developed a personality as well. Sometimes enthusiastic, sometimes cantankerous, always self-absorbed, she sent Annie regular travel updates with photos that featured her sliding down a scree-covered hillside in Chile or in front of such sights as Machu Picchu and the Taj Mahal.

Xícara became an alter-ego, an ongoing joke with Annie, and—because she was always with me in hostel rooms, train berths and grass huts—a constant reminder of home. She also became a way for me to connect, however fleetingly, with strangers in other countries. People would see me taking pictures of her, laugh, and help. People I traveled with but could barely talk to would hold her up and smile. So Xícara became a double souvenir—a reminder of my daughter’s affection and sense of humor, and also a fuzzy yellow memento of people I encountered on the journey.