Month: June 2018

A Tortured Mind

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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My mother was diagnosed with bipolar disorder by multiple doctors. There was no cure for her disease, but there were pharmaceutical treatments that worked for a time and then invariably had to be adjusted. She faced a lifetime of dealing with a chronic illness that required both patience and vigilance, which was not always easy because there were moments when she was not a pleasant person at all. In those instances she was unable to sleep, and lost track of time. She was filled with paranoid ideas and conspiracy theories that she felt compelled to share in the middle of the night. Her explosions of emotion and fear sometimes resulted in vile utterances that were difficult to hear. My brothers and I not only had to be forceful in providing her with the care that she needed, but had to worry about what she might do or say to get herself into a difficult situation with strangers who might be frightened by her aggressive and strange behavior. It was a battle that we fought for her for well over forty years.

I was thinking of my mom and the problems associated with her mental illness when the firestorm over Roseanne Barr erupted last week. The egregious and racist nature of Ms. Barr’s tweet about Valerie Jarret left me loathing her even more than I already did. I think I only watched her show one time back when it was the original series. I loved John Goodman, but I was unable to identify with the crudity of Roseanne. In other words I was not a fan. Still, I knew many people who loved the show and I had to admit that she had a certain talent even if I did not appreciate it. “To each his own” was my reaction to her fame and popularity while I generally ignored her and knew little about her.

When she and her former cast returned for a reboot of the sitcom I found myself wondering why we have so little originality these days that we keep returning to old ideas. Perhaps it is a longing for a quieter past, a time before 9/11, wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the civil war of words and political ideas that is so prevalent today. I wasn’t sure what the rationale might be, but I saw no harm in giving a particular segment of the audience the kind of comedy that they wanted while I watched The Middle.

Then came the Roseanne firestorm after her rambling ugly tweets resulted in her firing by ABC. To be clear the First Amendment protects her from punishment by the government, but not from repercussions at work. In fact, all of us would do well to understand that our public statements can and often will be seen as a reflection on our employers who have every right to let us go if they feel that we have gone too far. I can’t imagine anyone believing that Ms. Barr did not go too far. As an educator I recall instances when we meted out severe punishments including expulsion to students who voiced similar racist comments. There are certain lines over which none of us should ever cross, and if we do we must expect to pay the consequences.

By her own admission Roseanne Barr suffers from bipolar disorder and other mental illnesses. When she attempted to excuse her horrible tweets by noting that it was the middle of the night and she had taken Ambian I found myself wondering if she was in the throes of a manic episode. It was probably not her sleep aid that caused her rants, but rather her disease and the fact that it does not allow her to sleep the way she needs causes her to lose all caution with regard to what she says and does.

My mother once described bipolar disorder as an illness that caused her to say and do mean things when she didn’t want to do. She explained that she felt a compulsion to strike out at people that she was unable to control even when she tried. I know that I was the victim of her hurtful behavior many times over, but I understood what was causing the disturbances. People outside of the family simply found themselves wounded to the point of wanting to avoid her all all costs.

I in no way defend Rosanne Barr. I find her to be a foul mouthed and hateful person. Even if her tweet was indeed intended to be a joke it was far too ugly to be humorous. Her thoughts rarely change, so I believe that the essence of what she believes is contained in them, and that spirit is highly toxic. My mother was truly like two different people. When she was well everything about her was delightful and loving. It was only when she was sick that a kind of darkness prompted by fears came forth. On the whole she was a good person. I can’t say the same about Ms. Barr who seems to take delight in putdowns and shaming no matter what the situation.

An even more ridiculous argument in Roseanne’s favor is to point to others who are just as guilty of horrific comments and note that they have not been fired. That is akin to saying that just because someone else hasn’t been called to task for bad behavior, nobody should be. It is a circular defense that simply does not fly.

Our entire society is a bit sick right now. We need to be honest with ourselves and step back a bit before we find ourselves up against a wall from which there is no retreat. In many ways we have lost our national honor and are all too often guilty of perpetrating disgusting behaviors by our silence and even misguided support of acts and utterances that we know to be wrong. If we do not get a grip on this situation it will overtake us, for surely we are being manipulated by powerful forces whose only goal is to have power.

I actually feel sad for Roseanne Barr even though I find her to be despicable. I think that she is crying for help and nobody is really listening. I hope that those who love her will see the signs of her tortured mind and get her the relief that she needs. That will require a dose of kindness and medical attention. Hopefully her horrific pain won’t just be ignored, and I pray that we will not further divide ourselves by foolishly agreeing with the wanderings of her very sick and tortured mind.

No Excuses

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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An old feature from CBS popped up on my Facebook page. It catalogued the most crime ridden cities in the United States and described what the infractions were. There were a few surprises on the list, but mostly they consisted of the usual suspects that are traditionally havens for criminals. What was more interesting was the commentary from readers that followed the article as people attempted to determine what actually causes deviant behavior and how we might find ways to curb it.

I’m not a sociologist or expert in criminology, but I spent my lifetime working to educate youngsters, and what I have found is that most of the kids who became lawbreakers shared certain commonalities that had little to do with their economic situation other than placing them in the line of temptation. In the vast majority of cases the kids were from broken homes that had become structureless, without guidance. Often they as well as their parental figures used addictive drugs and joined gangs as a way of belonging. Their lives were focused on getting from one moment to the next as easily as possible. They were not interested in school and no doubt would have simply dropped out were it not for truancy laws. Many of them were marking time until they reached the age of sixteen when they would no longer have to cope with rules that made it illegal for them to leave the world of education. They generally had few positive role models and they almost always laid the blame for their plight on society rather than themselves. They were angry and believed that they had the right to better lives, but were unwilling to do the hard work to take advantage of opportunities. It was heart breaking to watch them becoming more and more adrift and influenced by forces that would ultimately lead them into a very dark world.

As teachers we did our best to motivate them, but we were often uncertain as to how to most effectively help them to escape the bad habits that were bringing them down. We had only a few hours of influence each day and we knew with certainty that when they left us there was no telling how much trouble awaited them. There were many schools of thought as to what we needed to do.

I remember one administrator who felt that only by setting down clear rules and consequences for ignoring them would we ever rescue them. He actually encouraged us to give them after school detentions because at least in that way we would be keeping them safe just a bit longer as well as teaching them that some actions are unacceptable and will be punished by society. He often followed some of the teens home if he thought that they might get into trouble along the way. He indeed saved a large number of individuals, but others only rebelled even more. I began to realize that there was no one approach for everyone.

At the same school we had a coach who used to bring old cars and park them in front of the gym. At the end of the day he invited students to join him for lessons in repairing autos. He had quite a following and many of the youngsters who stayed might otherwise have been up to mischief. Instead they were inspired to learn a trade that would bring them the success that seemed to otherwise elude them. There were fine arts teachers and those who taught science who similarly engaged the interests of children who had once been without any kind of direction.

I also noticed that once some of our kids went to church they changed dramatically. Many of the priests and ministers in the area actively recruited our students with promises of food, fun and fellowship. When they learned Christian principles they began to think about their own lives and actions and even influenced the adults in their lives. The loving concern that they found in those churches felt even more powerful than the gangs and quite often wrought amazing changes in our students.

In my final years in education I worked with the KIPP Charter Schools and their many mantras emphasized hard work, good behavior, goal setting and a willingness to never offer excuses for bad choices. The aim of the schools was to offer students a positive pathway out of poverty and sometimes toxic lifestyles. The route to success was grounded in a focus on education and a belief that with effort anything is possible.

Every single day the students were challenged with rigorous academic work that did not allow them to fall behind. The long days kept them focused on learning with little time for frivolous or criminal pursuits. Those who broke the rules were punished quickly and according to the nature of their actions. Sometimes they were even expelled on a probationary basis until they were able to prove that they were willing to adhere to the standards.

Parents were as much a part of the design as teachers. The adults worked hand in hand to insure that the values of character and industry became an integral part of the youngsters’ lives. While not every individual made it, the majority did and overcame countless obstacles to earn degrees and certifications that lifted them out of poverty and danger.

Poverty alone is not the problem. My brothers and I grew up poor, but we had a mother who never allowed us to wallow in pity or anger. She insisted that we study and work hard. She modeled exemplary character and emphasized that with the will we might accomplish anything. She instilled optimism into our natures and taught us that lack of material wealth did not define us or make us less than even the wealthiest person that we might encounter. Mostly she showed us that sacrifice and honesty were noble qualities that would carry us far. She would have been horrified if we had become so jealous of others that we thought it was somehow our right to steal from them or harm them.

We certainly need to give the poor in our country a lift upward, but helping their children to become self sufficient producers cannot be accomplished with money alone. Instead it requires our efforts to demonstrate how they might survive in positive ways. We must show them the value of hard work and provide them with role models and inspiration. It is a daily task requiring a multitude of good people including their parents.

Dr. Ben Carson often speaks of his own troubled childhood in Detroit where he lived in the midst of temptations that might have lead him into dangerous behaviors. His mother was not willing to simply allow him to waste his life, and so she became a force that changed the trajectory of the person he would become. She pushed him to use the talents that he had by being adult enough to be in charge. She devoted her life to demonstrating to her sons that they had the power within them to become better and better versions of themselves.

I suspect that they key to reduction in crime is to be found in lovingly and firmly guiding children from the time that they are very young, never allowing them to become hopeless, protecting them from forces with evil intent, and slowly showing them how to focus on learning how to use their talents for good. This is a job for parents, teachers, religious groups, and mentors who are willing to demonstrate that the world is a good and inviting place that wants to embrace them. We have much work to do.

Broken Pieces

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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Have you ever had one of those horrific dreams in which you forgot something crucial and it affected your entire life? One of my recurring nightmares is that I somehow fail to remember to take a final exam in one of my college courses, thus losing credit for the class. Time passes and life is good until this error is discovered and I end up having my degree rescinded and I lose my job. The emotions that I experience in my sleep are so visceral that I wake up feeling anxious and even a bit stupid as though I really did do something as farfetched as forgetting to take care of a major responsibility.

In the real world of wakefulness I generally take care of business without any close calls. I’ve missed a deadline here and there, but those moments were never fatal nor as costly as my dreaded dream. Most of my big mistakes have taken the form of accidentally breaking something or causing mishap because I have been day dreaming or thinking about some issue.

I once backed out of my garage with the gate on my SUV still in the open position. I was on my way to a funeral and not really feeling like myself when my thoughts were interrupted by a big bang and a neck wrenching jolt. I stopped immediately and as I exited my car to see what had happened I saw one of my neighbors doing his best to stifle his laughter as he considered the ridiculousness of what I had done. I felt so sheepish that I quickly closed the mangled part as best I could and continued on my way. Luckily my husband was infinitely understanding when I later explained to him what had happened. In fact, he suggested that it had no doubt occurred because I was in a delicate state of mind. He’s always known how to make me feel better.

Because my spouse is a very good man I wanted to do something special for him as we near the one year mark of his stroke and the many trials and tribulations that he has experienced in the months since that terrible day. I found a special way to celebrate when I saw that Joe Bonamassa was scheduled to perform at a nearby venue. I excitedly purchased tickets and announced that it was an early Father’s Day present for him.

Joe Bonamassa is a gifted guitarist and my Mike has listened to his music and watched videos of his playing for years. Once when we attended a graduation at Syracuse we saw that Bonamassa was performing in town that weekend, but all of the tickets had already been sold. I knew that Mike would be thrilled to be able to finally see and hear the artist that he so admired, and it was a grand way to put aside the health challenges he had faced.

At the time that I bought the tickets our house was literally turn apart and encased in plastic and grime from the repairs that resulted from a leaking hot water heater.  From start to finish it took around eight weeks to return to normal. During that time I carefully guarded the tickets lest they become lost in the mess that surrounded us. I watched over them as though they were the most valuable item in our home. When all of the dust finally settled and we had returned to a state of normalcy I still knew exactly where the tickets were, and I gleefully imagined how much fun we were going to have as I watched the days move ever closer to the date I had saved on our family calendar.

It seemed fitting that we would be going to do something fun on May 28, Memorial Day, because I have had a difficult time with that holiday ever since my father’s death on that day of remembrance over sixty years ago. I become anxious and admittedly a bit morose year after year. I find myself reliving that moment when I found out that he had died, but this year was going to be different. I was determined to put away my childhood fears and do something fun with the man I love. I anticipated our  glorious evening all day long on May 28, and when the time came I had a lilt in my step as I readied myself for our outing.

In his usual manner Mike decided that we would have dinner near the venue and so he went online to determine how long it would take to drive from the restaurant to the concert. His search lead him to the home page of the arena where he noticed that there was no mention whatsoever of a concert featuring Joe Bonamassa. He rushed from his office to our bedroom where I was relaxing a bit before our departure and asked to see the tickets. When I handed them to him he instantly noticed that they clearly listed the date of the performance as May 21. We had missed it entirely!

I went into a state of shock and disbelief. I could feel a storm of tears gathering in my heart but I showed only a stunned reaction. I kept looking at the tickets as though somehow I might magically change the printed date to the one that I had erroneously recorded on our calendar. The difference between a 1 and an 8 is rather clear, not like a 1 and a 7. I wondered how it was possible that I had been so discombobulated as to make such a mistake. I felt as foolish as I ever have. Not only had I ruined the wonderful evening that I had planned for Mike, but I had also just flushed a great deal of money down the drain.

As usual Mike came to the rescue. He insisted that we still go out to eat and he jokingly played some of Joe Bonamassa’s music as we drove to our destination. After dinner we walked around different shops for a time and then splurged by sharing a piece of cheesecake. He made no mention of his disappointment but instead kept us laughing and having a good time. Eventually we moved our party back home where we sat on our patio under a full moon enjoying glasses of wine and ending our evening with more of Bonamasssa’s music. The best part came when Mike sweetly announced that a good night was just being with me. That comment put everything into perspective and I didn’t feel as foolish anymore.

We’re all human and we do silly things, but when all is said and done they rarely become the nightmares that we so dread. Things break, fall apart, get lost and always they remain just things. People are all that really matter, and so we pick up broken pieces, throw them away, and move on.

FOMO

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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We humans revel in accomplishments. That fact becomes quite evident at this time of year as so many earn diplomas or degrees from pre-school to college. Along about now schools are passing out awards for attendance, athletics and academics. So many are working so hard to do well. At my gym the folks exercise with a vengeance hoping to keep their hearts and muscles working better and longer. There are summer camps of every conceivable variety, and plans for reading or learning new skills. We humans measure ourselves constantly by how much we have managed to do on any given day, particularly here in the United States where our Puritan ancestors inculcated a sense of hard work into our national thinking. We are creatures of habit, and we strive to make the very best of the limited number of hours that we have each day. Our industrious natures have lead us to successes and made our lives more comfortable. We pause only briefly now and again to recharge our energies and prepare for the next onslaught of duties that we feel compelled to complete. In the spirit of FOMO, fear of missing out, we are constantly on the go.

Sunday was once a day of rest, but we have put our own spin on that notion. On a recent day of the Lord I awoke at my usual early hour in spite of the fact that I had stayed up rather late the evening before. I have reached an age at which I am no longer able to give myself the gift of sleeping in. Usually it’s rather quiet around my neighborhood on Sunday mornings but on this particular date the streets and sidewalks were filled with runners and bike riders participating in a race. They had been at it for quite some time before I passed them on my way to church, and I found myself wishing that my knees would allow me once again to run like the wind. It amused me that so many were willing to forego their sleep time just to compete, but then I knew that if able I might have been out there with them.

After church services I decided to spend a bit of time cleaning my garden up just a bit while my husband designed a way of watering our hanging baskets with the sprinkler system. Seven hours later we had both managed to complete our tasks. With sunburned faces and aching backs we laughed out the idea that we were supposed to rest on the seventh day according to the Bible. Of course in some bizarre way the tasks of weeding and trimming and building was actually fun for us, so we concluded that our hobby was in reality a form of relaxation. In our hearts we knew that we got a charge of elation by ticking off yet another set of achievements. It was as much about the joy of completing a goal as having a rather strange brand of fun. It was nice to see our backyard haven looking so lovely, but I had to laugh in my mind as we sat surveying what we had done while planning the next phases of our never ending projects.

I find myself continually grading the worth of my days by the number of things that I have done. My Google calendar is filled with “to do” lists and appointments. When it is blank I have to fill it lest I begin to worry that I am not doing my part or “missing out.” I am part of an extended family calendar and I sometimes compare myself and feel as though I am a piker. When I see friends managing to do almost superhuman things, I worry over wether or not I am falling behind. My FOMO meter sends an alarm to my brain and I push myself to do one more load of laundry or read a few more pages of a book or walk up and down the stairs for a few minutes. My electronic devices monitor my efforts and keep me focused on the prize of making the most of a day. I may not be able to run, but I am still part of the race.

I waver between feeling good about my use of time and wondering if I would be better served to simply sit for a time doing nothing more than listening to the sounds of quiet. Meditation from time to time might serve me well. Do I dare appear to waste time? Am I willing to admit to an inquiry about my day that I did absolutely nothing? Would I do well to slow my pace from time to time? Should I really and truly learn how to rest on the Sabbath?

Life goes by so quickly, and there is certainly nothing wrong with making the most of the time that we have. It’s good to keep our bodies and our minds active. The opposite of industriousness has flaws and concerns of its own. Still, I worry that our society is continually on the verge of exhaustion. Is it possible that we expect too much from  ourselves and each other? Is our tendency to push to the limits always a good thing, or does it have the potential to divert our attention from more important matters?

When I was young there were predictions that our inventiveness would ultimately lead us to an era of expanded leisure time. As machines took on the tasks that had once been ours we were supposed to experience a shortened work week. There were questions about how we might adjust to a new way of thinking and doing and living. It was to be a golden era of developing better relationships with family and friends. Instead all of those marvels allowed fewer people to do the same amount of work. Suddenly jobs became so competitive that we found ourselves having to expend even more of our time and efforts to prove ourselves worthy. Forty hour weeks stretched to fifty and even sixty. We needed more degrees, better training so that even our so called free time was often devoted to studies designed to allow us to advance in our careers. We used the raises that we received for our efforts to pay for activities and hobbies that filled our calendars even more. We race from place to place, task to task often existing on fewer and fewer hours of sleep. We are a chronically tired nation with the exception of those who have chosen not to play the achievement game any longer.

I am who I am, a rather competitive and energetic person. I actually find joy in my constant motion and don’t think that I would be able to relax more even it I tried. When I sit for too long I find myself tapping my feet and twiddling my thumbs. I feel uncomfortable and need to get up and get going. Not even retirement has been able to slow me down. Perhaps my worries that I should succumb to quietness more often are unfounded, but something tells me the maybe a bit of balance might be for the good.

When I see people falling into the cracks because we are all so busy that we do not notice them or take the time to let them know that we care, I begin to think that all of us must at the very least add time for meditation, prayer, or a quieting of the mind to our schedules. Maybe it is good that we are so goal oriented, but from time to time our goals must include people as well and that means allowing time for both ourselves and those we love.

The English tea time is a grand idea. We need to incorporate breaks even if only for a short time. Those electronic devices that rule us so have the capacity to set timers and force us to pause now and again in the same ways that they urge us to walk and move around. Our achievements are wonderful as long as they include looking around and noticing now and again. There should be no fear of missing out whenever we pause for much needed rest.

Shifting Responsibility

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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Our country was founded by rebellious people, many of whom were descendants of folk who were having a difficult time in Europe. They were people that might be referred to today as “deplorables” from religious sects that had been persecuted, poor who came as indentured servants, youngest sons who would never inherit land, adventurers who wanted to try something new, troubled souls who barely escaped jail or a hangman’s noose, fatherless boys and girls called bastards. Each and every person who came here was looking for opportunity, a chance to reboot and make something of themselves. What they found was a harsh environment very unlike the places from whence they had come, but they carved out a place for themselves and many times made good on their desire to make something of themselves in a way that would not have been allowed in their homelands. By the time of the revolution that created the whole experiment called the United States of America many generations of people had only known life in the colonies. They bore the independent characteristics of their ancestors who had long ago settled there. They had been taught to be wary of infringements on their rights, and so when the king of England pushed harder and harder to get them to finance wars with untold taxes, they pushed back and eventually chose to break completely.

It’s important that we note the characteristics of our beginnings whenever we attempt to understand the political thinking of today. We were a nation of people who were very consciously concerned that too much interference from the government might lead to the same kinds of prohibitions and problems that had driven many of their ancestors here in the first place. The Constitution itself along with the Bill of Rights were designed to keep governmental interference as much at bay as possible. Because of the very nature of the people who began this experiment in democracy, it is difficult and maybe even a bit ridiculous to compare our nation to others. We are quite simply put very different from them.

Admittedly there were glaring flaws in the first iteration of our laws. The fact that women were not given the vote and slavery was legal were egregious mistakes that haunt us to this day. Still, creating unity among so many disparate voices and ideas took compromise without which we might still be part of the British commonwealth and only a fraction of the size that we are today. It’s been an uphill battle to set thing right, particularly with regard to the souls that we enslaved and their descendants. The incremental tendencies built into our Constitution can be frustrating, but they are also a bulwark against hasty legislation that has the power to dilute our freedoms.

We are a young country compared to our European counterpoints and more diverse in every possible way. Pulling all of us together in a common cause is not easy, especially as we deal with problems that our forefathers could not have foreseen. Still beneath all of the quibbling and unwillingness to work together that rises up again and again, there is a belief that somehow we will ultimately find a way to mend the injustices and grievances that have been part of every government that has existed since the beginning of time. There is no perfect ideology, nor is there a sin free group of people. As humans our flaws create problems that we sometimes allow to fester until we grow weary and realize the necessity of finding solutions. Thus we engaged in a revolution that freed us from the greedy grasp of the crown, and then later fought each other over the question of slavery that should never have taken so long to address.

Today we are a global nation as are all places on earth. It is virtually impossible to be isolated from the symbiotic nature of our world. We must take part in discussions and resolutions dealing with places seemingly so far away that they have little to do with us. Additionally we have questions specific to our own country that need to be answered. Juggling all of the modern day political responsibilities is a balancing act indeed, and it plays out against a backdrop of considerable numbers of people who share the same fears of losing freedom as the people who long ago shoved King George out of their lives. On the other side is a growing group that wants government to take more responsibility. The debates over which type of political system is best is seemingly a reiteration of questions that created the glorious cause so long ago.

Front and center of our national angst is the growing trend of violence in our schools. There are so many layers to this issue that believing that any one thing will solve the problem is little more than wishful thinking. That being said we all have a sense that something, and perhaps many things must be done sooner rather than later. We know that we cannot live in the fear that is overtaking us nor can we allow the murderous copycats to continue their ways.

Among the many ideas making the rounds these days is to hold parents liable if their children use guns that they have left unsecured. This idea ranges from giving them monetary punishments to actually charging them as accessories to murder. As someone whose ancestor fought in the American Revolution I find myself shuddering at the very thought of such an invasion of freedoms. I also base my belief on the decades long relationships that I have had with teenagers as an educator. One thing that I know for certain is that young people can be quite shocking in the things that they do, even when they are being carefully monitored by loving and caring adults. There is almost a kind of secret life in the years of adolescence when young people are experimenting and involving themselves in pursuits that would in no way be reflective of the lessons they have been taught at home and in schools. Most of us if we are honest would attest to doing things that now cause us both regret and a modicum of shame. We would not have told our parents what we were doing and are thankful that we made it through our experimental stages without getting into serious trouble.

What I am saying is that even with locked gun cabinets and responsible training there will always be teenagers who find ways to break the rules. Holding parents legally responsible is a very slippery slope unless it can be proven beyond a reasonable doubt that the parents were so lax that they actually encouraged the bad behaviors. There is a huge difference between giving a teen alcohol to drink and then allowing him/her to drive and having that same teen stealthily take a family gun from a closet to do harm to others. It might be argued that the gun should have been locked away, but even then how is it possible to prove that the gun was just lying around so cavalierly that it was an open invitation to disaster? Teens never fail to amaze me. They watch adults using combinations and memorize the numbers. They find keys to unlock forbidden doors. Unless the parent is alert twenty four hours a day and essentially following a teen’s every single move, there will be times when they lose control.

In most cases the parents of shooters are as shocked and overwhelmed with grief as anyone. They must truly wonder what they did nor did not do to be such failures. I can’t even imagine having to walk in the shoes of a parent whose child has become a monster. To further their own anguish by insisting in a court of law that they also be held accountable seems to be a violation of all of the freedoms that we want our country to represent.

There are bad seeds among us. We need to deal directly with them. We can create laws that restrict their access to weapons and public places, but surely we do not want to be so vindictive as to send their parents to jail as well. Unless it is certain that adults actively contributed to perpetrating violence punishing them further has no place. We must attack this issue from other angles that are in keeping with the intent of our forefathers. Our fears must not allow us to be unjust or to shift responsibility.