Month: November 2017

Focus On the Good

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

gallery-1447109043-thanksgiving-movies-indexThere are people who seem to be intent on making virtually every tradition that we enjoy political, including the Thanksgiving holiday. Some even refer to it as a day of mourning rather than a way of showing gratitude, because to them it represents a time when land was taken from the indigenous people who originally roamed freely across North America. I suppose that they have a point, but I believe that this day should be honored as a way of focusing on bringing family and friends together in a spirit of gratitude for the blessings that we have enjoyed instead of decrying the injuries and insults inflicted on us and on previous generations. The truth is that if we keep going back far enough in history we find violence, subjugation, theft of property and egregious acts in virtually every society. A quick review of today’s world events reveals evidence that as people we humans still have work to do. While there is nothing wrong with admitting that we have erred in the past, there is something a bit sick about continually beating ourselves up over things that we did not do and cannot change. Our only recourse is to learn from the mistakes of history and move forward with a more inclusive determination to live in a world as just as possible. To turn our backs on the very healthy idea of being grateful for any and all good that we have experienced is to lose the spirit of a celebration whose intent was to inspire the very hope that we most need.

We humans used to wander from one place to another searching for food and warmth. We had little need for ownership of land. It was a free range world for the most part because there weren’t that many of us. From time to time our ancestors clashed and we have the evidence of skulls cracked by manmade implements to prove that even then we didn’t always get along so well. Once we quit following herds and found a way to settle down and grow crops the idea of the survival of the fittest really kicked into place. We had not yet thought of the concept of contracts and deeds to prove ownership, but that would eventually come and as populations grew there were those who rose to power and took advantage of their positions to accumulate wealth. The social strata has almost always included haves and have nots. Even the most communal groups appear to have individuals running things and possessing just a bit more than everyone else. Over time there were land grabs taking place all over planet earth, with fighting and enslavement sometimes occurring even among and between indigenous tribes.

When the New World was discovered it appeared for all intents and purposes to be a land of opportunity and resources. Princes and potentates all over Europe made claims and sent adventurous citizens to help stake out ownership. More often than not the people who agreed to relocate to uncharted territory were those who had little reason to hope for good lives in the places where they were born. They tended to be poor and were often persecuted for their religious beliefs. The truth was that they were often considered to be the “riff raff” and encouraging them to colonize the newly claimed land was a convenient way to be rid of them while increasing the power of the monarchies and governments in Europe. We often forget this inconvenient truth whenever we consider the history that ultimately lead to the making of the United States of America. We rarely hold Spain or Portugal responsible for the scourge of slavery in the New World and yet it was their big idea and they imported it to most of South America in an even bigger way than its reach in the north.

The original pilgrims who came to Plymouth were a hated and motley crew back in Europe. Their religion was despised and even illegal, so they had moved from place to place back home hoping to find a sense of peace that had long evaded them. The idea of coming to the New World was one of desperation that wasn’t as well thought out as needed. They were unable to scrounge up a full complement of like minded souls willing to leave all that they had known behind, so they enlisted a few families who were running from the law. As they crossed the Atlantic the leader of their group realized that they had to create a compact that would bring a bit of order to the excursion. Sadly the entire plan appeared to be doomed by brutal weather and disease. By the time that the survivors of the trip had begun the task of settling on the land more than half of their fellow travelers had died. It seemed as though they had fled from one inhospitable place to another that was even more frightening. In desperation they formed an alliance with a group of native people who were warring with other tribes intent on taking their land. For all intents and purposes it must have appeared to be a free for all to the Europeans, but at least for the time being they were able to practice their religion and escape punishments.

We all know the rest of the story and realize that the imperfections of those who came to this land were as varied and profuse as they are today. Mankind has yet to figure out how best to live in harmony, and so there are tensions between people all over the world. We Americans have made many efforts to be a more democratic society, and for the most part immigrants still arrive at our shores hoping to build better lives. My maternal grandparents came only a little over a hundred years ago in search of opportunities that never would have been afforded them in the place in which they were born. They and their children were frequently treated badly and they struggled to make it, but they indeed found the comfort that they sought. Many generations later their descendants are success stories in the country that made it possible. Our family has much for which to be unendingly grateful. To focus instead on the injustices that befell our grandparents and parents would be to miss the very point of why we are here today. Our grandfather understood that if he had stayed in the town of his birth we would have been dominated by governments intent on assigning him to a life of poverty in which his freedoms would have been seriously curtailed. He was willing to endure the difficulties and imperfections of the United States because he realized that here there was hope for our futures. He loved this country with all of his being and taught his children to have the same devotion. He had seen firsthand what it was like to be in a less inclusive place. In spite of the flaws, he believed that America was still a great place to be.

So on this day I am thankful to be here. I feel gratitude for the education that I was given. I appreciate the freedoms that I have. I am blessed in knowing that I may work to create changes that will make our land an even better place. I appreciate the tremendous diversity that brings together people from all over the world. Like any person or family our country is imperfect, but we continue to strive toward a more perfect union of souls. Today I am looking not at the bad, but considering the good. In that regard my world is bountiful. I know that evil doers still exist, but they are far outnumbered by decent and kind individuals. I have faith that our nation will continue to evolve and become a kinder gentler place. We have work to do, but what we have accomplished so far is a testament to the ascent of mankind. Today I praise God for the mere fact that I am still here with the opportunity to be even better tomorrow than I was yesterday.   

The Art of Discourse

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I’m going to let my age show a bit like a tacky slip hanging out from under a skirt. My commentary has to do with how people sometimes react fearfully to the idea of being with their relatives on holidays. I was listening to an NPR interview and callers were complaining about relations who annoy them. They actually spoke of dreading gatherings and even wishing that they did not have to attend them. Most of their comments focused on discussions and comments with which they do not agree that invariably seem to come from certain family members whenever they re gathered together. The respondents made it clear that they don’t want to hear anything that is contrary to their own thoughts. They expressed strong feelings of wanting to leave when such discussions occur.

I actually found their ideas to be a bit strange, mostly because my interactions with my own extended family when I was young were laden with loud pronouncements, many of which lacked any form of finesse. The truth is that I loved witnessing such familial debates. They taught me several things. One was that there are a number of ways to consider a particular point of view, and the other was that two people can disagree and still love each other. None of the discussions that I observed ever resulted in one person feeling so hurt that he/she was left unable to forgive. In fact, one minute the two verbal opponents might be expressing opposite philosophies and the next they were laughing and hugging.

My father and grandfather were particularly prone to expressing points and counterpoints. Both of them were exceedingly well read so there were few emotions presented as arguments, but rather tons of facts. Their verbal sparring was fascinating to me instead of frightening regardless of which side of an argument each chose. Rather than feeling uncomfortable in the presence of such disagreements I learned the art of debate. I respected both men intensely, but I always mentally chose one as the winner over the other. I was fascinated by their intellectual prowess and mutual respect for each another, and I noticed that my grandmother always listened to their words with a look of pride on her face. She seemed to enjoy that the two most important men in her life were so knowledgeable. Like her it never occurred to me to be upset that they brought up controversial topics. I liked the freedom that such temporary disagreements implied.

I honestly don’t know why people take comments with which they are at variance so personally. I have always been able to simply shrug them off and laugh inside. I see little reason to become upset. I know every member of my family would literally do anything to assure my safety and comfort. Their love is real, and so it doesn’t matter to me how they think about things. When we get together the liberal Democrats mix right in with the ultra conservative Republicans. I listen to what each has to say and then form my own opinions. It’s something that I learned to do from the time that I was very young. I also became well schooled in how to be respectful even when I heard something that seemed outrageous.

My Uncle Paul often made shocking statements. I had to catch myself to keep from rolling my eyes when he spoke, but I also knew that when all was said and done he was one of the most generous and forgiving people in my world. He would complain about so called worthless people in almost vile language, and then provide the family of a homeless drug addled young man with a place to live, a job, and food. When my mother first showed signs of mental illness he quietly paid her bills, insisting that there be no fanfare for his largesse. He did not want her or anyone else to learn of his good deed. I learned from him that judging a book by its cover is often tempting, but not always accurate.

To this day my family’s get togethers are laden with vigorous discussions of all sorts of topics. Sometimes the younger folk don’t quite understand that it is all just good sport. My favorite occasion was when my two brothers were arguing over evolution. At one point there was a brief interruption of their discussion. When they finally came back to the topic they had seamlessly changed sides, something not everyone even noticed. It made me giggle to realize that they were just having a good time practicing the art of discourse.

Of course at any family gathering there may be the older relation who has primitive points of view regarding any number of ideas. While they may be annoying, I have always approached them with a sense of understanding. I know that they grew up in a different era and that it is no doubt way too late to change the way they view the world. My mannerly ways tell me to just listen and smile. I know that they don’t intend to hurt me and they are not threatening me in any way, so why should I grow angry?

Of course I am not talking about someone who is either emotionally or physically abusive. I don’t think they should be invited to family occasions at all unless they learn to curb their violent tendencies. Nobody should have to submit to anger or insults. That is a different issue altogether, but if it’s just someone voicing an opinion on the latest news I see no harm.

We live in a world in which we get way too hot under the collar whenever someone expresses sentiments with which we do not agree. It’s much easier and in keeping with a spirit of love to just allow the commentary and then walk away unscathed. There is also the possibility that we may actually learn something new if we just listen rather than immediately preparing a refutation. I personally think it is great fun to find out what people think about various situations. As a student of human nature I am never disappointed by the great variety of ideas.

Perhaps the biggest problem that we face in our country today is a stubborn unwillingness to hear each other’s ideas. Maybe a good place to practice being more responsive is to do so in the safe environment with family members who will love us no matter how crazy they may think our notions are. So keep an open mind if someone decides to bring up politics or religion or any of those highly charged topics that seem to drive people away more often than not. If we can’t be honest with family, where can we be? It’s time to enjoy those discussions for the value that they provide us rather than viewing them as triggers for negative thoughts. My father and grandfather had the right idea when they turned their differing beliefs into intellectual exercises. We all learned from those moments and always walked away better for having witnessed them.

I Believe

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.—-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Long ago I was teaching some rather rough and tough characters. Many of my students belonged to gangs and had parents who were in prison. It would be an understatement to say that their lives were difficult. There was one young man who had a checkered history both academically and behaviorally, but for some reason he and I hit it off. I had a sense that there was way more to him than met the eye or was capable of being recorded on paper. Before long the two of us were often conversing and I learned that he was a naturally gifted artist. He often spoke of his dreams for the future and I did everything possible to encourage him. He did well in my mathematics class, but failed so many of his other courses that he had to repeat the entire grade. It seemed a bit unfair that he was not allowed to take the next level of mathematics because he had made a strong “B”  from me and I knew that he understood all of the concepts quite well. The only positive aspect of his retention was that he was placed in my class once again because his reputation as a trouble maker made the other teachers leery of  having to deal with him.

I began the new school year by making him a tutor for the other students, telling them that he was a bright fellow who would be able to help them whenever they became confused. He enjoyed his role and took it very seriously. I decided to do something special for him, and so I purchased a portfolio for his artwork from an art supply store. He had never seen such a thing, and got super excited when I explained that it was designed to store his best pieces safely. Before long he was filling it with impressive works that excited both of us.

One day I learned that one of my female students had been sexually abused by her uncle. He had been living with her family but when her parents learned that he had impregnated her they went to the police. The uncle was furious and sent word that he was going to kill the young lady even if he had to stalk her to get an opportunity to do so. The principal of the school instructed me to be observant and immediately let him know if the uncle showed up at my classroom. Together we agreed on a code word that would alert him when I pushed the panic button. It made me sad and quite nervous because I wanted to be certain that the child would be protected from further harm.

I decided to rearrange the seating in my classroom so that the girl would always be close to me and as far from the doorway as possible. While I was in the process of attempting to design a safe place for her the young man whom I had made my assistant walked in and asked me what I was doing. Of course I was not at liberty to tell him what was happening. I simply mentioned that it was time for a change, and so he began helping me move the furniture and place stickers on the tables to let the students know where I had decided they would be sitting. Somehow he almost seemed to figure out what was really happening because as soon as I placed the label for the young lady he suggested that he should sit at the same table, and he even sat down in one of the chairs as though he was determining whether or not he had a clear line of sight for the door. He pushed the furniture around until it was just right, and then looked knowingly at me as if to reassure me that he was taking responsibility for the girl’s safety.

It would not have been too difficult for this young man to know what was going on even though I had said nothing. He was the leader of a powerful gang in the neighborhood, and very little information got past him. I don’t know how much talking the girl was doing, but her growing belly made it clear that she was pregnant, and the fear in her eyes gave away her state of mind. She literally looked like the very image of a madonna on a Christmas card, so lovely and pure, but she was also anxious and filled with a kind of pain.

Nothing ever happened to the sweet young mother. Her uncle eventually fled to Mexico and never came back, but before the coast was clear my young man watched over her easing all of our fears.

Eventually they both moved on to eighth grade and then high school. I never saw either of them again and hoped with all of my heart that they were happy and doing well, but my good thoughts were not to be. I one day learned that the young man was an inmate at Huntsville prison. He had been found guilty of armed robbery and would be in jail for a very long time. Learning of his fate was one of the most heartbreaking moments of my life for I knew all too well that in spite of what he had done and what his future fate would be, he was a truly good person inside. It pained me that he had made choices that so damaged all of the possibilities that most certainly might have been his. My heart hurt for him and for his family. I was angry that he had succumbed to the evil temptations of his lifestyle rather than finding a way out as so many of his friends had managed to do. At the same time I still loved him, and so I still often think of him and wonder how he is doing.

Perhaps if his behavior improved he may have been released from prison by now. I hope that maybe he continued his education and worked toward a positive goal. I know that he has the heart for such things but I worry that he may not have had the will. His story is one of those that haunts me, because it is not all that unusual. There were few who were surprised by his fate. He had not impressed many of my colleagues with his talents and his sweetness, because he had rarely shown them to anyone. He seemed to have become victim to a self fulfilling prophecy rather than realizing how much greatness there was inside his soul.

I’d like to think that maybe he matured and somehow found himself. It comforts me to believe so. Not to believe that he was ever able to rise above his circumstances is too depressing to bear, so I allow myself to have a glimmer of hope whenever I think of him. If my thoughts were somehow able to travel through time and space and reach his mind he would understand that I believe in him and pray that he has been able to believe in himself.

A Celebration of Life

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I felt a bit emotional on my birthday this year. Perhaps it was because it came at the end of a week which began with a gathering of dear ones who were all saying goodbye to our very good friend, Bill. I found myself savoring each moment of my special day with a great deal more intensity than usual. I genuinely appreciated the Facebook greetings and the visits from loved ones. The thoughtfulness that abounded was moving, but mostly it was a sign to me of how genuinely wonderful people are. I was reminded by the events of the week that when all is said and done it is in the memories that we share with all of the folks that we encounter along the way that our greatest joys unfold.

My departed friend Bill had done well in this world. He used the gifts of his intellect to build a life of purpose that provided him and his family with comfort, but mostly it was his love and generosity of spirit that marked him as a great man. The stories about him that abounded all told of an adventurous soul who never forgot to be thoughtful and kind. He was a man of almost unflinching routine who nonetheless set aside time in every single day to keep his friendships alive, many of which extended all the way back into his boyhood. He took nothing with him at the end, but the riches of honor, respect and genuine love that were poured out in the stories people told of him were greater than all of the gold and jewels stowed away with King Tut. I suppose that as I listened to the recounting of his impact I sensed that we each have reasons for existing that may seem small and insignificant until the moment when we put the sum total of our efforts together. In the case of Bill, the final tally was as remarkable as anyone might ever hope to accomplish.

I pondered such ideas all last week and my thoughts culminated on Saturday, the beginning of my sixty ninth year. It was a gloriously beautiful day albeit a bit warmer than the one on which I was born. My mother always spoke of how bitterly cold it had been as she gathered pecans in the yard in front of the garage apartment that she and my father were renting in the Heights neighborhood of Houston on November 18, 1948. The war had ended and the world was in a state of rebuilding. Mama and Daddy were like millions of young folk who were starting families and hoping that they we would never again witness the violence that had brought so much pain. Mama wore my father’s wool army coat because she had grown so great with child that her own would no longer button. She had at first thought that the backache that she was feeling was the result of all of the bending that she had been doing as she filled a paper grocery bag with nuts that she intended to use to bake goodies for Thanksgiving and Christmas. When her water broke she knew that my arrival was imminent.

I thought of my mother and my father a great deal this past weekend. They would have been quite proud of the beautiful brood that resulted from their love. Almost all of their offspring gathered during the day and the evening to wish me well.

The celebrating began with lunch with my father-in-law and his beautiful second wife. He is our patriarch and his delightful sense of humor never fails to fill our home with laughter. I wanted to tarry at the table with him so that I might freeze the special time we were having into the memory bank of my mind. It was great fun as we listened to stories of the army cook who created meals for his regiment during the Korean War. Papa hid the pain of war in the humorous tales of the guys who fought with him. We felt so joyful and fortunate to still have him with us.

Later in the day my brothers and their children and grandchildren also came to wish me well. I shared the birthday celebration with my little niece Lorelai who is a bright and sweet as an angel. I delighted at the innocence of her beautiful face lit up as much by her goodness as by the lights of the candles that we blew out together. She is ten and filled with expectation and curiosity. The world lies ahead of her and will no doubt embrace her because she is such a special child. I found myself thinking of my own childhood and how fun it had been.

I tried to take in the wonder of my family that has become ever more lovely with each new person who enters our fold. We are boisterous and filled with genuine feelings for one another. We don’t always get to see each other as much as we would like, but when we do get together an explosion of unadulterated joy erupts. My sisters-in-law are the sisters that I always dreamed of having. My sons-in-law are the young men who provide my daughters and me with rock solid love. My grandchildren and nieces and nephews marvel in one another’s company and I find myself just watching them as they play together. In fact, I felt a bit like an observant fly on the wall all day long as I realized my many blessings that all come packaged in the most wonderful people who are part of my life.

The birthday posts on my Facebook wall poured in all weekend. They came from some whom I had known my entire life, some from my school days, some from coworkers, others from students, still others from neighbors. I had to admit my good fortune as I thought of each of them and I prayed that they all know how much they have meant to me.

I particularly enjoyed a group of photos from a dear teacher friend who has become like family. We had shared a beautiful wedding trip to Cancun back in June with our mutual friends Tim and Dickie. Somehow her camera had captured the exhileration that we were all experiencing on that day and it was quite beautiful. Our unfiltered emotions filled the panorama with the bliss that we were all feeling, and in viewing the images I experienced our pleasure once again.

Another teacher friend posted a greeting that I’m going to use as my mantra during the coming year.

Oops, although this a belated prayer, my prayer remains the same.

 1 Good Health for you and family

2 Financial Blessings

3 Continued Travel Blessings 

4 The Peace that Surpasses all Understanding

I think that I will have an extraordinary time indeed if I were to enjoy the fruition of all of the good wishes that were made for me. I would only add that I hope to have the pleasure of being with my friends and family as often as possible, because they are always the source of my greatest happiness. I simply have no way of being able to thank them for all that they have given me. I only hope that they truly realize how important they are to me.

The Road Ahead

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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Tomorrow is my birthday and I will be sixty nine years old. That number sounds ancient to me. It is a place in time that I have never really imagined being. Time is relative when it comes to me because I still feel as though I am little more than middle aged. Surely I will be thirty nine tomorrow, going on forty next year. Where did I lose the thirty years that I don’t remember passing by so quickly? One day I was still young and the next I became a member of AARP and qualified for Medicare. It’s enough to boggle the mind.

I’m still able to perform complex mathematics problems and show youngsters how to do them as well. I write almost everyday and read constantly, but not without glasses. My vision went south some time back along with my ability to recall small things like where I have left one of the dozens of pairs of glasses that I keep on hand. I tried wearing one of those chains around my neck that keep glasses handy but they just didn’t work for me. They got in the way mostly of my vanity.

I can’t run well anymore. My knees yell at me if I even try. I’ve shrunk about three inches because I have developed osteoporosis like my grandmother and several of my aunts. Heredity can be a real bitch sometimes. I used to be a tall girl, but now I am rather short. It makes me wonder if my grandma was always a small person or if her own troubles with brittle bones made her much tinier than she once was.

Mostly I’m rather healthy. People predict that barring some unforeseen accident or a disease that sneaks up on me I will live long like my grandfather who made it to one hundred eight. If that’s the case I have almost forty more years to go. I’ll need to figure out what to do with all of that time. I hope I am able to use it as well as Grandpa did. He was an avid reader who devoured books like chocolate bonbons, and then proceeded to discuss every detail in them when someone came to visit. His mind was as clear as a sparkling lake up until the very last weeks of his life, but he had grown weary by then. He often spoke of being ready to end his marathon time here on earth and start a new run in heaven. He had lost all of his friends and most of his relatives including all three of his children. Somehow he managed to stay optimistic in spite of the fact that he had spent all of money and lived from one Social Security check to the next. He had planned well for retirement, but nobody expects for a life to last as long as his did,

There is still so much of the world that I hope to experience. I love the idea of continuously learning and traveling. It is a habit that I have followed and it provides me with great pleasure. I like to stay abreast of changes and I truly hope that I never become a dotty old fuddy-duddy, a dotard if you will. One reason that I enjoy working with children is that they keep me young. I get a kick out their antics and I find that on the whole they are quite polite and wonderful. The idea that today’s kids are spoiled and badly behaved is a myth perpetuated by grouchy individuals who abhor change. The truth is that our future is in good hands from what I have seen. The world will surely keep on moving along and things will get better regardless of who is living at the White House.

Somehow getting older makes me far happier and more content than I have ever been. I view life with a great deal more appreciation. All of my competitive inclinations have fallen by the wayside. I realize how very lucky I have been from the cold November day when I was born to the present. I may not have accumulated much wealth, but I can say without reservation that I have always been loved. There is absolutely nothing better than that, and I now realize that more so than ever before.

I still harbor hopes and dreams, but now they are more for my grandchildren than myself. I want to watch them finding ways to use their talents and build their own lives. If they are half as fortunate as I have been then the world will be very good to them. I pray that their inevitable trials will be few and that they will possess all of the skills needed to deal with them. I myself had so much support any time that I was struggling. There always seemed to be a relative, neighbor, teacher, coworker or friend to help me overcome even the most horrific situations. I treasure all of the people who have encouraged me, some of whom never knew how much they actually meant to me.

I think back to my many birthdays. My mom always worked hard to make my day as special as possible, and did so until the very day that she died. Her family had been so poor that their only gift each year had been a single nickel. She and her siblings continued the tradition of sending each other nickels, and I thought it a beautiful gesture of love. My mom never missed brining me a cake and a very carefully chosen gift which always reminded me of how important I was to her. I find myself missing her bit more each year. She was with me from the very beginning, forging that special bond that only a mother is capable of doing.

Much of my family is coming to my house to help me celebrate my birthday tomorrow. Family has been the best gift that I have ever enjoyed. I honestly don’t know what I would do without all of them. We are a loud and crazy bunch that sometimes confounds and annoys other people. I don’t think those who shy away from us can tell if we are yelling at each other or just being a bit too overjoyed to be together. I know that some folks can’t handle our antics, but I can’t imagine being any other way than we just naturally are. Our exuberance is simply the outward manifestation of our unending love.

So this old woman plans to savor every minute that I have. At this point there is no telling whether my days are numbered or I have a long way to go. I’ve learned to take one day at a time and to roll with whatever happens. I may not hear as well as I once did but I am a survivor and I am far tougher than I appear to be. It’s been a great ride thus far. It’s going to be fun to see where the rest of my life takes me. I’m more than ready for the adventures that lie along the road ahead.