Karin Vetter Mott

1931 - 2026

Karin Vetter Mott

March 9, 1931 - February 22, 2026

Karin was a child of Tulsa. Seventy years with Charley and in Albemarle County, but still, the enlightened credential of a Tulsa childhood sustained her, was her gold standard. Now, in death and exactly 73 years from that wedding day, imagine her returned to Charley's nuptial embrace at Tulsa First Baptist: she is again blond, petite, periwinkle-eyed, in Juliette cap and poured into the alecon lace gown that will be reincarnated for decades by daughters and granddaughters.

Of her tomboy years, Karin's favorite memories were rustic camping near quicksand on the Arkansas River and fireside songs like Mr. Moon and Little Canoe. Blossomed, she played Cinderella in a Tulsa-produced movie. Her socially alert demeanor came to easily meld into character. And she was beautiful. She was embarrassed to arrive in pomp to church with sister Marea in her grandfather's antique Franklin. She nurtured and embellished her mother's conviction of the relationship to Prussian royalty. While attending Randolph Macon Women's College, her parents' abrupt divorce traumatically blindsided her. The charmed adolescence morphed into estrangement and an obsessive anguish that will strong personal resolve to heal.

BUT ALSO! Karin fell in love on a double-blind date in a Lynchburg riverside dinner club. There, seated kitty corner from her roommate and so across from that shy Adonis, she discovered her comfort, her refuge, her peer.... "My Charley". He was chivalrous, devoted, and smitten. They shared a categorical confidence in Christian principles and for inevitable charmed lives. That evening, they circled the floor in floating infatuation. Karin proudly recounted helping Charley find his natural rhythm (and later bemoaned his growing popularity as a dance partner).

Karin and Charley were founding members of the River Road Presbyterian Church in Richmond, but were living in Charlottesville by 1956. Their spiritual life found home at Greenwood Emmanual, both serving multiple terms on the vestry there. She played a little tennis and attended Junior League. She was a Tri Delta, sister of PEO, and proudly a founding member of the Oratorio Society of Charlottesville. Attendance at the annual presentation of Handel's Messiah was a family tradition. In concert, when the church choir sang Anthems, and during congregation hymns, she flew with vocal ecstasy. Wherever the song rose in celebration, the confidence of Karin's coloratura soprano could be heard gracefully soaring.

She insists on the Scandinavian pronunciation: Karin (Kahr-in). She reveled in small talk and was an enthusiastic party conversationalist and gossip. Her favorite color was a shade of blue that leans lavender. She liked Elizabeth Arden body powder, her fragrance Jean Patou Joy. Roseate was her lipstick color, too. Rose is her middle name. Karin's remarkable soft skin had a fragile pearl translucency, and a caressing grasp of her silken hand was delight for companions. Her playful smile and rising cheeks enhanced glassy blue eyes. That pleasing feature echoes in agreeably in subsequent generations.

Karin loved flaming pyracantha berries, also the tiger lilies that lined the long entry drive at "Brightberry". She declared cloud-mottled peach sunsets over the Piedmont to be the world's finest. She was very ticklish, her secret. On holidays, she made oyster stew. She enjoyed boiled crab, stewed okra, avocado halves with cream dressing, artichoke with lemon butter, tongue sandwiches, and, in later years, the most embellished caffeinated concoctions a grandchild could conjure for their Mimi. She carried cups of cold coffee accessorized by hay fever tissues and jumbled lists written in a spiraling, florid scribble, unprioritized, repeated, reiterated, rewritten, ensuring confusion. Karin's elegant Spenserian script was sought by friends, family, and strangers to embellish invitations, announcements, and place cards. She was generous with her time and skills.

Karin gave her children unique names, strong vocabulary, and nourished their self-confidence into adulthood. She rehabilitated that Tulsa family fracture by fierce, uncritical fidelity to her children and to Charley. She unconditionally attended grandchildren as they appeared. It was her joy, but also a defining legacy reverberating now in current generations of parental devotion. She was a skilled driver and swimmer, teaching both to children early. She was brave. As a young mother, Karin sat with a shotgun calling warnings from upstairs in the family's restored farmhouse while a still undetermined phantom rummaged below. As a woman, she courageously reconciled with her Father.

"Special" was the superlative Karin employed for persuasion. Brown bananas blended with milk was "special" treat. Baggy hipped women's Bermuda shorts on sale were "special" for a boy. Clocks were "specially" set five minutes fast to allow a bonus margin; but, taking granted that compensation, house, and car clocks were set progressively further ahead. Thus, in the event, the family was perpetually late. Arrival at church during contemplative opening prayers was "Special".

She was a medicine woman, familiar with obscure poultices, potions, and possessing packed cabinets of expired prescriptions dispensed with informal certainty. She had faith in home remedies. Her young children were served a morning mix of hot vinegar and honey, their toothbrushes fingered to ensure use. She attended hornet nest encounters facilely as hurt feelings. In his last days and in her final reprise as medicine woman. Karin ministered to Charley with uncompromising devotion, padding her candy red tri-rollator to Health Care, demanding of staff, stubbornly refusing to negotiate her terms for his care.

Karin's declining years unveiled a charmed sweetness. Time and dedication swept out desiccated trauma, and Karin's life acquired elements of veneration. Expectations faded. She chuckled at teasing and tolerated discomfort. The adage says: "A Mother's gift can never be repaid."; but in her concluding days, Karin insisted family gave more than she deserved. Despite being assured Charley is standing by, Karin spoke with concern about seeing her life love in Heaven. "I hope he is there to greet me…", she told a daughter, "You know,... Charley is a popular guy!"

Karin and Charley Mott are survived by children, Colter (Steffanie), Marcie (French), and Larkin (Trooper); 10 grandchildren; expanding ranks (seven and growing) of great-grandchildren; and a furry mechanical retriever named Tulsa. We are confident Charley waits for their celestial waltz. Our family's deepest gratitude and affection goes to the sensitive, loyal, and professionally competent staff at Westminster Canterbury of the Blue Ridge. Karin's Memory Event will be held after the pyracantha blooms. If late, and the berries setting, that would be "special"!