The Children

What’s on your mind, JoAnn? This question, a familiar one to those of us who visit Facebook from time to time, had one nagging answer this past week. Children are on my mind. 

As you might guess, the children most on my mind are the lovely Madelyn Simone and the delightful and determined Elizabeth Holiday. The images of my two granddaughters are vivid. Twirling around in their frou-frou dresses at the Dragonfly Tea Room in Canal Fulton. Going down the slide, “just one more time, Nana.” Singing along with Sharon, Lois and Bram, “I love you in the morning, and in the afternoon, I love you in the evening and underneath the moon.” Oh yes, I do.

In contrast to these heart-warming images, I also encountered a painful scene when picking up an order at a local restaurant. As I entered, I sensed an air of tension, and soon realized the young mother behind the counter was screaming at her three small children, who were cowering at a crayon-strewn table in the corner. I did not witness any physical abuse, but if she didn’t have self-control in that very public situation, what might be happening to those little ones in the privacy of their home? I exchanged raised eyebrows with other patrons, but I did nothing. But my heart and mind remembered Ashley Zhao, age five, whose battered body was found hidden in her family’s restaurant not far from the home of my granddaughters a year ago. 

I watched a video of Chase and Riley this week, two young sisters who spoke of the joy their brother Liam has brought into their lives, even though he was born with an extra twenty-first chromosome, diagnosed with trisomy 21. Riley expressively informed the world: “It [Downs Syndrome] is not our baby brother’s name – his name is Liam . . . We don’t care about Downs Syndrome – we care about Liam.”

Children played a role in my pleasure-reading this week as well when I happily discovered another Maisie Dobbs mystery on the library shelves. In “A Lesson in Secrets,” author Jacqueline Winspear invented a children’s book, “The Peaceful Little Warriors,” to play a role in the investigation of its author’s murder. The storybook tells of British children orphaned by World War I, who subsequently live together in the woods. These children make their way to France with the goal of convincing soldiers from all sides to lay down their arms and seek after peace. In Winspear’s narrative, the book is labeled dangerous, even treasonous, and is banned by the government. 

Just a week ago, children and adults walked with a similar purpose at March for Our Lives gatherings around the world. In Washington, Naomi Wadler, age eleven, addressed critics who suggested she was too young to understand: “My friends and I might still be eleven and may still be in elementary school, but we know.”

Images from the march in Ashland are still on my mind as well. A column of people stretching down Claremont Avenue. Fourteen-year-old twins bearing witness as they carried the names of Jamie and Martin, also fourteen years old when their lives were snuffed out while at school in Parkland, Florida. Lydia, age eleven, standing in Corner Park, reading the names of the small children killed at Sandy Hook.  Charlotte, Daniel, Olivia, Chase, Madeleine . . .

As a mother, as a grandmother, I listened to Sarah Wells’ lament to Parkland, “When Your Daughter is Shot on Valentine’s Day.” “Who will choose the coffin dress/ who will carry dried petals in their pockets/ who will hold on, and hold on, and hold on until all that’s left is faded paper hearts and dust.”

As a retired pastor, the temptation to form a sermon-like conclusion from these disjointed images is strong, but on this holy Saturday of watching and waiting, I offer words from the sacred text instead. First, words of Jesus from Matthew 19:14. “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them. For the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” 

And then, from Isaiah 11:6: “And a little child shall lead them.”

You're Fired

My friend Larry spent many years as a camp director, and tells of the summer when he had to fire his dishwasher. Pots and pans had been disappearing from the kitchen, and one day, the culprit was caught red-handed, hiding a dirty pan under the porch of the kitchen because he didn’t want to wash it. Busted! Years later, when that same kitchen was being renovated, more crusty pots and pans were discovered in the dropped ceiling. You can’t make this stuff up!

It happens to the best of us. I know a few pastors who got fired from summer camp for a knuckleheaded prank, and they’ve lived to tell the story. David Blatt got fired when the Cavs were 30-11, because of “a lack of fit with our personnel and our vision.” Anybody remember a young coach named Bill Belichick and his Valentine’s Day termination?

The language speaks for itself. Fired. Terminated. Laid off. Getting the boot. Kicked to the curb. Shown the door. Being let go. Retrenched. Eliana Johnson and Matthew Nussbaum suggest a recent addition with a bit of a twist: “getting Tillersoned.” “Kept in a state of perpetual limbo,” knowing you could be kept around indefinitely or terminated at a moment’s notice. Now we can add “getting McCabed” – getting fired from the FBI hours before retirement. No “thank you for your service” gold watch. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out. Oh, and that pension you earned, in those twenty-one years of FBI employment as you put your life on the line for our country day in and day out. You can forget about it. (Hopefully the report of his loss of pension is fake news).

It’s a risk we all take, and it’s not only associated with D.C. In the height of the recession, employers were known to hire through a temp agency, and when the worker reached day eighty-nine, they got fired, and the promised transfer to the company’s payroll never took place. With plenty of people waiting in the wings for their job, even though their work had been satisfactory, the factory didn’t have to offer them any benefits and could start over with someone new.

There are some hedges against rampant firings for no reasons. Union contracts can provide some protection. Complaints can be filed with the EEOC or the NLRB. Unemployment insurance might give temporary financial support if a firing is not justified. But unless we work for ourselves, most of us are at some risk of losing our jobs.

J.K. Rowlings got fired for writing fiction on company time. Steve Jobs got fired from the company he started. Walt Disney was fired because he “lacked imagination.” Julia Childs was fired for gross insubordination. Oprah was unfit for television news. Madonna squirted jelly all over a customer on her first day at the donut shop. And my favorite – Lucille Ball was fired for forgetting to put the banana in the banana split!

It’s easy to say, “look how well they did despite being fired.” And there is some truth in that sentiment. Getting fired doesn’t have to be the end of our world, although it may feel that way in the moment.  

We may agree or disagree with the politics of the people who’ve been fired in recent months, but still, these are people whose families have been devastated, as their personal sacrifices have been dismissed and their reputations sullied and stained. They deserve better than to be fired by tweet in a moment of public ridicule, their last days of public service immortalized by a Saturday Night Live skit.

After being fired, FBI assistant director Andrew McCabe finally spoke out: “I have always prided myself on serving my country with distinction and integrity, and I have always encouraged those around me to do the same. Just ask them. To have my career end in this way . . . is incredibly disappointing and unfair. But it will not erase the important work I was privileged to be a part of, the results of which will in the end be revealed for the country to see.” For his sake, and for ours, I hope he’s right.

What Happened to You?

In 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy were assassinated. Vietnam protests swept the country. McDonalds introduced the Big Mac, selling for a whopping $.49. And in 1968, the television news magazine, “60 Minutes” debuted.

Over the ensuing fifty years, the metronomic stopwatch of “60 Minutes” has brought solid reporting and fascinating interviews into our living rooms, with only a few hiccups along the way. Its correspondents have talked with presidents and popes, shot pool with Jackie Gleason, and sparred with an ailing Muhammed Ali and the hostage-holding Ayatollah Khomeini.

“60 Minutes” has been influential in changing opinion across the country, while also offering a fleeting moment of fame to people of all types. Even with its reputation of going after the bad guys, still they came. When asked why crooks would be willing to go on “60 Minutes,” correspondent Morley Safer responded, “A crook doesn’t believe he’s made it as a crook until he’s been on ’60 Minutes.’”

From 1978 until his death in 2011, audience favorite Andy Rooney used the last three to four minutes for a light-hearted commentary on the week and the world. When he was suspended in 1990 for a major faux pas, “60 Minutes” lost 20% of its audience, and his sentence was subsequently commuted to time served.

This week, much attention has focused on Lesley Stahl’s interview of Education Secretary Betsy DeVos and DeVos’ subsequent tweet that attempted explanation (never a good idea), as well as a highly-anticipated upcoming interview with Stormy Daniels. However, I was drawn to the piece by Oprah Winfrey, who I had just viewed in “A Wrinkle in Time” (she sure does get around). Oprah ditched Mrs. Which’s glittery lips and eyebrows to delve into trauma-informed care, a model of diagnosis and treatment the Ashland County Mental Health and Recovery Board has championed in recent years.

Through hundreds of research studies, the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) reports that childhood trauma is a powerful predictor of both physical and mental problems that impact people into adulthood. As a simple measurement, researchers and therapists use the Adverse Childhood Experience scale (ACE) to determine a person’s level of trauma in childhood. This ten question review considers the incidence of physical, verbal and sexual abuse, types of neglect, and the presence of domestic violence, addiction, and incarceration within the family. The higher the score, the more likely the individual will struggle in school, wrestle with depression, and face a shortened lifespan.

As Oprah noted, this research-based approach “comes down to the question of not, ‘What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with that kid? Why Is he behaving like that,’ to, ‘What happened to you,’ which is a very different question.” Trauma-informed care provides those in the helping professions a more supportive approach. As clinician Tim Groves explained to Oprah, “We might not be able to ever prevent the stuff that happens to kids. But we are fully in charge of how we respond when we see it.”

Dr. Bruce Perry, an expert on childhood trauma, notes that “children are much more sensitive to childhood trauma than adults,” but also speaks to the antidote: “Really it boils down to something pretty simple. And it’s relationships.”

Disney has instinctively grasped this truth. Cinderella was given a fairy godmother, Anna was accompanied by Kristof and Sven, and Snow White had her seven dwarfs. Oprah and her mystical sisters fill a similar role in the film adaptation of Madeleine L’Engle’s “A Wrinkle in Time,” coming alongside Meg and her young brother, Charles Wallace, traumatized by the mysterious disappearance of their father. L’Engle describes their role: “She [Meg] was enfolded in the great wings of Mrs. Whatsit and she felt comfort and strength pouring through her.” Disney would agree with Dr. Perry – “it’s relationships.”

Oprah’s Wrinkle companion, Mrs. Who, understands the risk and the reward. Quoting the ancient Persian poet Rumi, she reminds the children, “The wound is the place where the light enters you.” As L’Engle also recognized, “It is only in vulnerability and risk – not safety and security – that we overcome darkness.”

What happened to you? I thought you’d never ask.

Only in Ashland

When I first began to practice the art of column-writing in the Ashland Times-Gazette ten years ago, one of my first columns took up the rallying call: “Only in Ashland.” As I wrote in that early column, I recognized two opposing meanings to the phrase. Either it was a “man, this is such a weird community and stuff like this can only happen here” or “Ashland is such a special place that things this wonderful could only happen here.”

In column A (weird stuff), I wrote about the throngs of people in attendance at a frigid Christmas parade. Ashland sure does love a parade, even one that, at least in my early Ashland days, was mostly John Deere tractors and eighteen-wheelers. The police logs were also good for material, such as the cow parked in the middle of the road, a man arrested for stealing a $1.59 drink at a fast food restaurant, or a screamer at a local apartment who was just warming up for her vocal lesson. Only in Ashland.

In Column B, the special place side, I’ve recognized community-wide efforts such as the consecutive United Way successes, the community response when Archway was closed and then reopened, and of course, the development of the Kroc Center. I’ve also drawn attention to the kindness of individuals, symbolized best by the bank employee who met me at my car with an umbrella in the middle of a downpour. Yep, only in Ashland.

This week has given me pause to add two more examples to the “stuff like this can only happen in Ashland” list. Both are situations that fall outside the boundaries of ordinary, falling on the bizarre/tragic scale rather than the “how weird is that” measuring stick. The first is the upcoming trial of Shawn Grate, who will be judged by a jury of community residents as to his role in the kidnapping and death of women in Ashland. If this case does go to trial in April as scheduled, we may get a glimpse into how a man came to town, befriended young, vulnerable women, hid them not far from the center of town, and took their lives. How did this happen here, right under our noses?

The second is the shooting that took place in Hayesville, involving an eight-year-old shooter and a four-year-old victim. The emerging details are heart-breaking, meeting the definition of bizarre: “very strange or unusual, especially so as to cause interest or amusement.” If social media posts are a good indicator, there may be interest here, but no amusement to this story, with reactions running the gamut from astonishment to rage. At least one post expressed a similar thought to mine: “it’s Ashland, lol.” I’m not laughing out loud.

On a brighter note, Ashland is riding a wave of smiles in Kates Gymnasium these days. Have you seen the Ashland University women’s basketball team in action? They are undefeated this year, and the GLIAC tournament brought them to consecutive win #68. Drawing national attention, I like what coach Robyn Fralick told Sports Illustrated, “Our goal is to win a national championship, but the pressure is peripheral. If we’re working hard and taking care of each other, that’s where the good stuff is.”  

Are win streaks and tragedies limited to Ashland? Of course not. There’s no magical “special” spell cast over Ashland, Ohio, just as there’s no curse hanging over the community. People are people. We can’t fully control whether we end up on list A on any given day, either as a community or as an individual. But we can pay attention to what’s going on around us, even if it means an unwarranted police visit to a screeching soprano. Ask any police officer you know – they would much rather apologize for disturbing a vocal warm-up than to walk into a house of death like 363 Covert Court ever again.

On the other side of the ledger, we do have the ability to expand column B. Never underestimate the value of a shared umbrella. As Coach Fralick understands, if we work hard and take care of each other, “that’s where the good stuff is,” right here in Ashland, Ohio.