Most of this article first appeared in March 2007 in A View from the Loft. It has been updated to reflect Carol Connolly’s latest award.

Saint Paul’s Literary Grand Dame

Just after she was named poet laureate in July 2006, the Irish Gazette called Carol Connolly “Saint Paul’s literary grand dame.” “I love being named poet laureate for so many reasons. It was totally unexpected. It gives me the chance to do meaningful projects in support of poetry and poets, and write official poems which might go on to have a little life of their own. I’ll continue to support other poets and writers.” She  curates and hosts a monthly Reading by Writers series, now in its 12^th year. “I’m taking my job seriously without being too mesmerized by it. I’m not it; I’m representing it.”

Recently, Connolly attended the first Kitchen Poets Vault Reading/Tasting curated and hosted by the talented poet/baker Danny Klecko. She found, upon arrival at St Agnes Bakery, that a puffy arm chair next to a lovely antique table, alive with a huge bouquet of spring flowers, had been set up for her. Klecko gave her what she calls “…a very  lovely, over the top introduction.” She adds, “After the embarrassment passed, I felt like the Queen of Romania, but only for a minute. I believe that was a queen who was beheaded.”

The poet laureate of Saint Paul is an appointed, honorary position. It was suggested to Mayor Chris Coleman that the city should have a poet laureate. Mayor Coleman said, “Done,” and so it was. Carol joined Barton Sutter, first Duluth laureate, on Minnesota’s poet laureate roster. Carol’s term will last as long as Mayor Coleman is in office—perhaps even longer. Hers is a lifetime appointment.

“Saint Paul hosts a flood of talent,” asserts Carol. “I’m grateful to have been chosen.” A poet laureate is entrusted with raising the status of poetry in the everyday conscience of the people, the official lightning rod for the poetic impulse of the people. “I’ve had several assignments: my first assignment was a poem to precede the Mayor’s budget address; then reading with the mayor and the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra, more.

Carol strives to be the kind of poet she admires most. “Those are the people who are willing to inspire or are willing to expose themselves enough to help others. I have great admiration, too, for the people who can get up every morning and write a poem.  How do they do that?”

Carol’s poetry career germinated at the Loft. She had been ruminating about being a mother of eight amidst her crumbling marriage. After taking a journaling class, upon a friend’s suggestion, Carol sought out a fiction class at the Loft. “That class was full, so I took a poetry class instead.”

Poetry and journal writing render truth. “Being true to ourselves is a hard job. Accepting any kind of truth is a big, huge job. Then it’s what you make of that truth, how you move on. Maybe what you know to be the truth isn’t. But most people know when they’re lying to themselves. You can’t lie to yourself in a journal.

“When I started writing poetry, it spilled out of my journal and I was willing to tell my story. But I realized it was not just my story—I was speaking to and about many women. And I think women’s stories will be different in the future. Or maybe not.  Perhaps the human condition will be the same. Maybe we’ll continue to talk about Nancy Pelosi’s wardrobe, and the state of Hillary Clinton’s hair.”

After Payments Due, Carol’s poetry collection, was published in 1985, she sought other writing gigs. She worked as a columnist for the St. Paul Pioneer Press, Mpls.St.Paul magazine, and wrote for Ladies’ Home Journal, and she has reviewed books for the Star Tribune.

Carol’s political activism and career are well known: Minnesota Women’s Political Caucus cochair, Saint Paul Human Rights Commission chair, Minnesota Racing Commissioner, founding that commission’s Affirmative Action Committee, and much more.

Political activism has also shaped Carol’s poetry. “Not only did I have a lot of life experience by the time I started writing at age 40, being active politically allowed me to see the world in a different way. I was involved in the civil rights, women’s rights, and peace movements, and I am still very active in politics.”

Feminism was ingrained in Carol at an early age. “At the Catholic boarding school I attended we were immersed in a feminist model: compete with yourself and help your sisters. I’ve lived by that. Those Dominican nuns knew what they were doing! But from a social justice standpoint, many women in my age group could not abide the lack of control over our reproductive rights dictated by the Church. We were also shocked to learn that Catholics could not be given conscientious objector status because the Church had been so warlike throughout history.

“As artists, if we do have influence, we need to use it for the common good. For instance, spoken word artists have done poetry and poets a great favor. They have taken poetry into places it wouldn’t be. They have made art accessible. Not all accessible work is art. Quality and accessibility can go hand in hand. And think about it: through the ages, work that has lasted is work that is accessible. They have taught us how to live as poets—how to line up gigs in the United States and Europe, about fund-raising, how to promote poetry and ourselves—because they are fearless.”

Fear and ridicule do not lurk in Carol’s hallway. “No, they never have. I am always amazed by and interested in the criticism I receive. Years ago, I was doing a reading of Payments Due at a gallery in New York City. A man approached me at the end of the reading and said, ‘I hate your work. I want to buy five copies of your book.’ My poems opened something in him that he didn’t want to look at. When my book first came out, some people were enraged. Now that the second edition is in its third printing, more people see the humor and the ridiculousness in it.

“Deep into the third age of life, one can either fear everything, or nothing. I choose to fear nothing. This doesn’t mean, however, that I am free from experiencing, now and then, a bit of momentary trepidation. Doesn’t stop me from thinking at the top of the stairs, ‘Oh, please, don’t let me fall.’ I’m quite sure, too, that almost all women think we need to prepare to be bag ladies. Security is mostly a superstition.”

In a poem for her daughter upon her eighteenth birthday, Carol wrote these lines: “Begin to cultivate / a defiant attitude. / Question everyone.” “It’s good advice still,” states Carol. “You don’t have to be rude in the process. It’s a matter of embracing personal freedom: the freedom of thought and speech; the freedom to be true to yourself. But be ready to be misunderstood. You have to get over the idea that there is a way to please everyone. And realize that as you honor the truth in your own spirit, other aspects of your life may have to fall away. That can be seen as defiant, too.”

Carol may be defiant without being disobedient. She asserts that disobedience “is a virtue of youth. In one’s third age, all the rules that hindered one have long since been starved to death. One hits the brakes for a red light, but not much else.”

Recently, poet-memoirist Margot Galt and then Minnesota Historical Society’s acquisitions editor Patrick Coleman each told Connolly that they intended to nominate her. “I begged them not to waste their time,” she says. They paid her no heed. Connolly is the 2011 Minnesota Book Awards Kay Sexton awardee, an honor presented annually to an individual or organization in recognition of long-standing dedication and outstanding work in fostering books, reading, and literary activity in Minnesota. The award honors Kay Sexton, a book buyer for many years at Dayton’s and B. Dalton Bookstores in the Twin Cities. She was the first recipient of the award in 1988. The Kay Sexton Award is sponsored by Common Good Books.