Thirteen years ago, Margo Bartlett’s first two grandchildren were born. Books have played a leading role in the family activities and connections ever since, including a meaningful collection of poetry, Make a Circle, Keep Us In.
The first two of my three grandchildren were born three weeks apart, which was as exciting as it sounds.
A year or two later, before my husband and I stayed with our granddaughter for the evening, I went to the library and filled a canvas bag with books. I explained to my granddaughter that we’d start with her own books as usual, but if that supply ran low, these “fresh books” would get us through the emergency. She insisted on reading them all right away.
I reloaded the bag whenever my husband and I spent time with our grandchildren, whose first question was always, “Did you bring fresh books?”
To maintain the supply, I spent hours crawling around on the floor of library children’s departments. (Children’s bookshelves cater to their patrons’ stature.) Authors I loved – James Marshall, Daniel Pinkwater, and Kevin Henkes – were joined by Matthew Cordell, Bob Graham, Antoinette Portis, Susan Meddaugh, Philip Stead, James Stevenson, and others.
But I didn’t come here to talk about children’s books.
I came here to say the two older kids are 13 now, teenagers with busy schedules and their own books constantly in their hands. We no longer read fresh books on the regular, though once in a while I sneak in a few. My younger grandson is 10, not too old to enjoy being read to now and then, but mostly old enough to read on his own, and boy, he does.
My granddaughter reads like she breathes – steadily and independently. She and her mom often take their books to coffee shops or cat cafés for refreshments and silent written word appreciation.
All this growing up they’re doing is breathtaking. I love my grandchildren’s conversation, their varied activities, even their height. The two older kids are almost as tall as I am, though they insist they’re taller. (Okay, fine, they are taller. But only a tiny, teensy bit.)
Best of all, while these two are fully 13, they remain cheerfully playful and tolerant of their grandparents, of which they both have several. l wouldn’t be surprised if they managed adolescence the way they climb walls and mountain bike: full tilt, with confidence and safety gear. All three of them possess an admirable resilience and self-possession I didn’t have at their age.
At 13, I was silent, moody and confided in no one. From the outside, I’m sure I seemed angry, but inside, I was confused, insecure, bewildered, scared. And also angry. It was a difficult time for everyone.
I hope they’ll avoid all that. But middle school is rife with changes and challenges, in daily schedules, academic demands, and social expectations, even as the students themselves are changing in a myriad of ways. No wonder the very words “middle school” cause many adults to twitch with remembered angst. Everybody is challenged at this time of life; everybody changes. As equanimous as they are now, my grandchildren will change too.
This brings me to a story about a book. Not a book I shared with my grandchildren, but one I read to my own daughters when they were children. It was Ohio writer Arnold Adoff’s Make a Circle, Keep Us In: Poems for a Good Day. That also was the title of our favorite poem from the book, and “Make a circle, keep us in,” became our before-meals grace.
Years later, my younger daughter and son-in-law broke the glad news of their first pregnancy by giving us the Adoff book. (It’s hard to find, but they found it.) Between the pages that included our family grace was a copy of the ultrasound.
Still later, that same daughter took a printing class and came away with a stack of “Make a Circle, Keep Us In” posters. Our three families have this framed mantra in our dining rooms. We still say it as grace.
A few weeks ago, staff members of a nearby public library stopped traffic on a busy thoroughfare to allow a mother duck to lead 12 just-hatched offspring to water. One library employee helped the ducklings scramble up the curb, and then everybody watched as the family headed to a nearby river and the rest of their lives.
I see that as my job as a grandma: To help my grandchildren up a few curbs, and to smile as they head into the future. For as long as I’m here, I’ll cheer their forward progress. I might shout out a few tips to their receding figures – Don’t open attachments from people you don’t know! Don’t lay your eggs near a U.S. highway! – but they’re already way ahead of me. My 10-year-old grandson is building and coding LEGO robots, for goodness’ sake.
As they grow, we’ll come together and divide, come together and divide, as poet Mark Perlberg observed. Often, when we come together, we’ll make a circle. This small gesture, borrowed from a poem and adopted with love, will be strong enough to keep us in even when we’re gone.
Margo Bartlett worked for a small city daily newspaper for 25 years and for the Columbus Dispatch This Week Community Newspapers for several more years. She’s now a freelance writer and copy editor who still has to look up the word “zucchini” every single time.
