Why are we even here,

if not for the children?

Fresh into my working life in the early 90s, I returned to northern Ohio frequently enough. At the breakfast table, a bevy of papers spilled over for me to consider: Amherst News-Times, Lorain Journal, and the Cleveland Plain Dealer. There, on the pages of the Plain Dealer, I found Connie Schultz and her columns.

On Saturday, Connie appeared at Joseph-Beth Books in Cincinnati, like the one she frequented in Shaker Square, she noted. She was in town to read and sign Lola and the Troll. The children’s book was inspired by Connie’s own experiences on social media, trolled as she was, following the 2016 election and in her proud years of calling our former president a liar.

Lola, brave Lola, is a young girl who fears a troll she encounters on her way to school each morning, so much that she wants to change who she is. Her sidekick is an invisible dog, a support canine of sorts, maybe even her conscience. Connie read aloud to the children, but her words whispered in the ears of adults. Something burst inside of me.

Connie reading aloud, sharing Lola with the rest of us.

Only days ago, an Amber Alert had flashed on the highway sign as I drove home from getting my car worked on. Along I-71, the message notified drivers of a missing young boy. This was Wednesday morning. By early Friday morning, a body believed to be 5-year-old Darnell Taylor was found in a sewer drain in Columbus. Purportedly dead at the hands of his foster mother, found in Cleveland.

While Connie never alluded to this story, I felt the pull of Darnell’s call as she read, as she talked about Lola. I was crushed by the hopes of little children who sat at her feet, safe. And for innocent Darnell, who was not. “It’s always about the children,” said Connie, who has devoted her life to writing about underdogs.

Lola isn’t only a book for children. It’s for adults, too. Or those of us willing to admit it. Those who have been bullied (I never grew past five-feet-tall, so my stature alone was material. When walking bowlegged to school, I was once told, I walked like I had a stick up my a--). Young women who endure unwanted taunts from men. Transgender individuals who are only the latest in a long line of grievances that the conservative establishment has with people who want to live life on their own terms. Or those who have ever been bullied by politicians who believe they know what’s best in our lives.

Driving back to Over-the-Rhine, I wondered, What are doing here, on this planet, in this life, if not for the children?

Am I angrier now than eight years ago, because I’m a grandparent?

In poetry, a volta is the turning point in a poem that characterizes a change in tone, opinion, or speaker. It can also be an answer or a conclusion. Grandparenting is a volta, a turn in our existence. A call to shift our voice and advocate for what’s next. We’re pressed by time to consider what we’d like to leave behind. There’s a volta for every generation. We’re in ours now.

The answer to the question is, “yes.”

Connie signed Lola and the Troll to my granddaughter Nora.

I can’t imagine being a grandparent or a great-grandparent and wanting such an existence for children where bullies arrive daily in the form of other children, in the shape of belligerent parents on the sidelines, in bits and bytes on social media, through the outline of males at bars (the other night, with my husband along, a drunk male said to me, “I love watching you dance on the dance floor.”) And worst of all, in the guise of political, religious, or world leaders who speak or legislate in a style of language not belonging to the people. Bullies who dictate how we’re allowed to approach our lives created out of our own passions and wills, while they roost in towers made of gold.

Connie wrote Lola and the Troll in defense of all of us who have been subjected to bullies over time. I wished Darnell had been old enough to read it, or someone might have read these words to him, offering him a means to escape.

Today a reader, tomorrow a leader is inscribed on Connie’s necklace. The quote is by American journalist Margaret Fuller (1810-1850). Connie reminded her audience of little chattering babes, “If you start young, it gives you big ideas about your life.” After all, she was just a girl from Ashtabula, Ohio, sitting on the front porch reading as strangers and friends alike drove by. Her mind was on bigger worlds.

This book too will find its way to a banned list. It will offend someone’s sensibility. We don’t want children with big ideas, standing up for themselves, right? We want our children to fall in between the lines we’ve drawn, or those our parents drew—because we can’t be bothered to imagine there’s another way so different and accepting.  

In his Seven Steps to Heaven haiku, Tony Medina writes: What will we bequeath / Our children if not a world / Evermore human.

Children do want another world. One more human. If they’re making dangerous choices, such as stealing guns from cars, procuring them somehow and shooting into public gatherings such as in Kansas City, if they are snorting cocaine, as my college aged niece has informed me of its prevalence on campus, it’s because they see no other path to reach that goal. In line ahead of me, one attendee at the book signing confessed, “I apologized to my (20-something) daughters. This wasn’t the world I had hoped for them.”

In that vulnerability of a moment, one either retreats from the attacks on all sides or one gathers the stores in their arms and prepares for the oncoming tempest.

In the latest Adam Grant podcast, he interviews Denise Hamilton, author of Indivisible, who said, “During the Montgomery bus boycott, those people walked through incredible scorching heat. They didn't have jobs like you and I where we're pushing, pushing paper and, and typing on keys. They had grueling physical backbreaking work, and they still walked home for a year to change policies, and we're exhausted by tweets?…Like we need to soldier up a little bit and pull ourselves together.”

Were you Lola at one time? Have you been afraid, as surely Darnell was? Are you now surrounded by other Tommy the Trolls that necessitate calling out? Lola, but more so, Darnell, need us all to be brave this time around. We no longer have the option to cower.

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Pauletta Hansel and I knew in-person writing experiences were important to many of our participants, so we’re happy to continue them in partnership with Giving Voice Foundation and Jewish Family Services.

Our next in-person is August 9th, 10-noon. Watch this space, email bwilliams@muchmorethanameal.com, or visit givingvoicefdn.org register.

Our FREE, VIRTUAL writing experiences for caregivers will continue Tentative dates of May 7th and November 14th, 10-noon. Registrations details above.

Voyage Ohio

If you haven’t had the chance to check them out, Voyage Ohio gives exposure to artists, creatives and businesspersons who want their audience to know their wider story. Here’s a read on mine.

This Spring

New writings in Edible Ohio Valley about Mean Mr. Mustard and some goats. Also, new work appearing in Italian American. Italian Americans wax poetically about Sunday Dinner. In our house, we savored Sunday Brunch. You will too.

And for summer’s Edible Ohio Valley, I landed an interview with one of the region’s most profound writers to talk about her new culinary memoir. As well as one of the city’s most brash breadmakers! Stay tuned…

May 14

Kensington Senior Living of Virginia/Maryland will host a virtual caregiver writing workshop for attendees connected to their care center. If you have interest in hosting a writing experience with my colleague and I, message me here.

Upcoming Fall Workshops

Lloyd Library – It’s all Backstory: a presentation on memoir and writing, in partnership with Fotofocus 2024, October 9^th. Sign up for the Lloyd Library newsletter for information when it’s released. www.lloydlibrary.org.