Month: November 2018

Working On The Inside

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Tricia's Podcast

I have a dear friend, Tricia Miller, who is a brilliant and talented woman. I met her when she and I taught together at KIPP Houston High School. I eventually became the Dean of Faculty there and she became one of the College Counselors. We shared a special kinship from the very first and became close friends. Even after we had both the left the school we worked hard to maintain a close relationship with one another that has only grown stronger over the years. At first we mostly got together for celebratory occasions with other women who had also once worked at KIPP. Eventually Tricia and I called upon one another for advice, knowing that together we usually found the wisdom that we needed to tackle the problems that invariably crop up in everyone’s lives.

Tricia became a licensed therapist and did private counseling along with continuing to work with students while I began living the life of retirement. I know from personal experience how good she is at seeing both the pain and joy that lingers in people’s hearts either propelling them forward or holding them back. On more than one occasion she has helped me to find answers that I was seeking and encouraged me to have the courage that I needed to be my personal best. She is what I call an active listener who knows how to pose important questions and then sit back and truly hear the true meaning of what is being said. She is quite good at understanding the essence of people, sometimes even more than they do themselves.

This past summer Tricia decided to develop a podcast that would feature short stories of people who had overcome daunting challenges. I was honored to be one of the guests that she chose to interview, and so I one day found myself sitting in her sunny kitchen talking as friends while she posed guiding questions and recorded my answers. I had been a bit nervous about speaking into a microphone and I worried that I might stumble and stutter as I spoke, but Tricia created such a relaxed atmosphere that I soon forgot that my words were being saved for posterity. I was able to speak from my heart and not worry about how I might sound.

Tricia worked with intense dedication for months to interview individuals, edit their responses, and create a series of quality podcasts with topics intended to inspire listeners. Her efforts resulted in thirty minute episodes in a podcast called Working From the Inside that is currently listed on Google Play, Spotify and Apple iTunes. Her guests are diverse and earnest in sharing their stories of overcoming challenges and finding empathy and support in sometimes unexpected places.

Tricia decided to launch the episode that featured my interview as a gift to me just before my seventieth birthday. The theme of the spot focuses on the mentoring and compassion that I encountered in the sometimes winding journey of my life, particularly with regard to my career. Happily she edited my chatter to include the expressions gratitude that I have always felt for certain individuals who helped to guide me in my work and in navigating through the difficulties that invariably arose along the way. I was able to honor important people like my English teacher, Father Shane, the members of my neighborhood, school and church community, professors who inspired me, principals who helped shape me into a real educator, and elders who demonstrated sacrifice and love when I most needed it.

I hope that the listeners will be able to look past my soft, slow drawl that comes from my Texas background as they hear me speak. It is a trait that sometimes marked me as someone who was insignificant and perhaps also weak. I wanted people to know that even a seemingly shy and sheltered female is able to find grit when given enough encouragement from caring people, and I certainly had my share of kind souls who helped me to become the person that I am today. My story is one of countless moments in which I found good people who understood me and helped me to overcome my weaknesses and fears. Of course, Tricia Miller is one of those very special souls who took the time to really “get me.”

I’d like to invite everyone to look for Working On the Inside with Tricia Miller, M.Ed.,LPC on Google Play, Apple iTunes, or Spotify. Subscribe today and then sit back and enjoy Tricia’s creative talent and the stories of her incredible friends. I have little doubt that you will be inspired and will become a fan.
Tricia has created a kind of oral history of the life and times of our era. Her guests are diverse and from many walks in life. The common thread that binds them together is a determination to overcome even the most horrific difficulties that life throws at each of us. Tricia has such genius and empathy that she is able to bring uncommon honesty to each episode. I’m certain that listeners will find nuggets of wisdom and hope from meeting Tricia and her guests.

A Season To Be Thankful

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
pexels-photo-231019.jpeg
Photo by icon0.com on Pexels.com

It’s the time of year when we are reminded to be thankful. I suppose that we should not have to create a holiday to be aware of our blessings, and express gratefulness for having them. We all get rather busy with worldly pursuits and sometimes forget to stop long enough to take note of all the ways in which we have indeed enjoyed good fortune. So it’s good to somewhat force the issue now and again. When we stop to think we no doubt realize that our bounty is far more wondrous than we may ever have thought.

On a humorous note, I’m quite happy that there are fewer political ads filling my email. I still receive some that look ahead to the 2020 elections, but for the most part the onslaught has quieted. It’s good to be able to take a breath for now. I know that soon enough there will be primaries to contend with followed by the really big election. I’d be even more thankful I I were able to find a way to turn all of the noise off completely, but I suppose that we are long past the good old days when we did not have to hear much until just before voting.

I’m overjoyed by the cooler weather. I’m an unfortunate seventy year old who still has frequent hot flashes. According to my doctor I may either take hormones which may cause me to develop a serious disease, move to a place with a colder climate, or just put up with the heat that courses through my body several times each day. I have chosen the latter, so when it gets cold outside in my neck of the woods I enjoy the reprieve that the chilly weather affords me.

I am quite happy that I am a Texan. I may not like all of the political leanings of my state, but I still believe that it is one of the best places on earth to live. The people are always friendly even when we disagree with each other. The cost of living allows me to enjoy a lifestyle that is quite comfortable. The state is big and diverse in geography and people. All in all I can’t imagine ever moving from here. The positives far outweigh any negatives that I might consider. Besides,  most of my friends and family are here which makes Texas almost perfect in my mind.

I’m thankful that at least for now my health is relatively good. I can’t see worth beans to read, but those cheap grocery store readers work great. My knees make me feel about eighty years old on wet days, but I still manage to get around. I just can’t do quite as much as I once did, but I enjoy walks and exercising at the gym. I just won’t be climbing mountains any time soon. All in all I have to praise God for my good fortune or at the very least for giving me some good DNA.

My mother taught me and my brothers to say a prayer each night telling God how great He was for giving us a warm bed and a roof over our heads. I sometimes have to pinch myself when I think of how safe and secure I feel in my home. I know that so many of my brothers and sisters in the world are not so lucky. I often wonder how I won a lottery in life that has given me so many comforts.

There were so many times when I was working that I would be frustrated and exhausted. I often counted the years until retirement on those occasions. Mostly though I enjoyed my work and felt a sense of profound purpose in my life. I know that not everyone who works for a lifetime feels that way, so I remember and appreciate my career, or vocation if you will. My working days were good and meaningful.

My friends are many and each and every one of them is unique and extraordinary. It’s remarkable that a girl like me who was once so shy and awkward somehow found an abundance of kindred spirits with whom to share my life. If I were to tell each of their stories and the joy that they have brought me, I would be writing blogs about them for the rest of my life.

Then there is my family. We are a wild and crazy lot, and we fiercely love each other. I am so proud to be a member of the Ulrich, Little, Fisk, Nias, Burnett and Gonzalez clans either by dent of birth or marriage. I love how our little family has grown and grown over time with new members adding so much joy to our circle. Nothing pleases me more than being with a great big gathering of all of the wonderful people that I get to call cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. Of course I won the jackpot when I met my husband, my best friend. Life with him has been fun, adventurous and most of all filled with mutual respect and love.

I have seen very hard times. I have lost people that I intensely loved. I have struggled financially, emotionally, and even physically. All the while I have known that the sum of the parts of my life have been greater than any of the problems that I had to face. For that I am thankful beyond all imagination.

Policing Our Information

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
advertisements batch blur business
Photo by brotiN biswaS on Pexels.com

Long ago I was a daily subscriber to The Houston Post, a newspaper that ceased to exist after a time. It’s competitor, The Houston Chronicle, had never had great appeal to me, but in the aftermath of the Post’s failure I began to have the Chronicle delivered to my house each day. When I moved to a new home about thirteen years ago I was so busy with work and other responsibilities that I decided to only sign up for weekend delivery. Even then I hardly had the time to stop to read all of the Sunday sections. The paper often lined the bottom of my trash can without ever having been adequately digested. With the advent of online news sources I was more likely to sit with my laptop on my knees while I sipped on my morning tea and munched on my breakfast. I eventually decided to stop the delivery of a newspaper to my home and instead subscribe to national sources offering coverage on my computer.

A couple of Sundays ago when I visited with my in-laws I noticed a copy of the Sunday Houston Chronicle lying on their kitchen counter. I was horrified to see how much it had shrunk in size. It looked more like something that might be distributed on college campuses by the journalism students than the local news source of the fourth largest city in the United States. I suppose that it has come to this dire end because of people like me who abandoned the paper when it became more of a vehicle for want ads and inserts from merchants than a purveyor of good quality information. In fact, such appears to be the fate of many newspapers around the country.

It makes me sad to watch the demise of good old fashioned reporting in local papers because there was a time when I wanted nothing more than to be a journalist. I dreamed of gathering information on the happenings around my city and then writing stories about them. I imagined one day garnering the respect of a byline with my name on it. The thought of being a newspaper reporter sounded exciting and important to me. Never did I imagine that news outlets would find themselves struggling to stay afloat, even in places with large populations. I did not conceive of a revolution in electronic reporting that would displace almost all but the most notable newspapers with online information delivered to computers in nanoseconds.

Not even when I got my first home computer was I able to foresee the future as it unfolded. Things changed so quickly that I hardly noticed what was happening. In the nineteen nineties when I was earning an advanced degree my professors urged me to learn about email and the Internet. Both methods were still clunky and not so easy to use, but I proudly complied and thought of myself as being modern and adventurous. By the turn of the century things were progressing online at warp speed and inventive minds were finding more and more ways to simplify the process of garnering information so quickly and easily that even small children learned how to use the worldwide web. It was a brave new world that was exciting and intoxicating, and it was being used more and more often in ways that most of us never thought possible.

Suddenly we were instantly linked to people all around the world with only a few keystrokes. Those old fashioned news sources made of paper that invariably contained old information by the time they were delivered seemed outdated and inconvenient and even overpriced given that they were so late in providing us details about the world’s happenings. I suppose that only those who contrived ways to stay relevant have remained robust, and even they must worry that the day may come when the marvelous invention of the printing press will seem as insignificant as a horse drawn plow or a buggy, the kind of things relegated to museums.

When Facebook came along it was initially the domain of college students, a way to get to know and communicate with more people than ordinary means allowed. By sharing photos and messages it was supposed to bring people together, and for a time that’s mostly what it did. Eventually adults long past their younger years entered the fray, and users began to realize the power of the comments on those walls. Facebook became a vehicle for presenting points of view, and setting up discussions. It was almost inevitable that it would also be a way of sharing news stories and political opinions. Editorializing and propaganda and stories whose veracity was questionable found their way onto people’s feeds without even asking. With information flooding in from hundreds of unnamed sources it became more and more necessary to fact check virtually everything that appeared on the Facebook walls. It also lead to abuses by information gathering sources that then used their data to target certain users with political propaganda.

By now everyone has heard the accusations of attempts by the Russians to influence the 2016 presidential election by using Facebook and other outlets to spread false information. Mark Zuckerberg has defended his organization by noting that his original intent was to do good by bringing people together, and to that end he did not want to become a judge and jury for who and what should appear in the newsfeeds of his billions of users. Nonetheless he has been criticized for not being more vigilant in monitoring the information that subscribers send and see on their walls.

I’m rather libertarian when it comes to any form of censoring. I find the idea of having someone determining what I may see on my Facebook page to be far more frightening than knowing that some of what is there is false and misleading. I would prefer taking the time to fact check on my own than to be limited by some kind of algorithmic board that scans the offerings and comments. While I understand that there is some exceedingly contemptible and frightening information being passed along as truth, I stand by the idea that it is up to each of us individually to decide what we choose to accept as fact versus fiction. In fact, I think that even if Facebook were to totally change it’s standards tomorrow by only allowing greetings and photos of family and puppies there would still be places where shenanigans rule.

Teachers have told me for my entire lifetime to beware of propaganda which may be found even in old fashioned newspapers and on television and in the speeches of our politicians. We’ve had the rainmakers and traveling medicine peddlers forever. Those who bang on drums and attempt to fool us into believing fake ideas have been around since the beginning of time, and one way or another we humans have had to be careful not to fall for their snake oil routines. It’s in our own best interests to always and without exception be wary. If something sounds too incredible to be true, it’s possible that it actually is a tactic to mislead us. There are so many ways to unfold the veracity of ideas, and we have to learn how to use them before following our emotions rather than our reason. We must always be willing to determine fact rather than opinion, truth rather than lies. We shouldn’t require Facebook to be our police and more than we asked that of our old newspapers. That’s why we have the ability to think. Let’s put that talent to use rather than asking a stranger to do it for us.

The Generosity of Widows

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
brown pinecone on white rectangular board
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

In the gospel story the widow gave when she did not have. I always likened the woman in that parable to my own mother, a widow who had so little material wealth, but gave  freely of whatever she had. She used to smile sweetly and tell us that we should never worry about her because Jesus had promised to take care of people like herself. Thus she gave to a host of organizations that unwittingly took her donations without ever realizing that she might have better been a recipient of their largesse. I never quite knew how she did it, but she always managed to keep the lights on and the gas roaring to heat the house and cook the food. It was a rare day when she actually ran her air conditioner, and she stretched her budget by living a life that would have rivaled the simplicity of Thoreau. She understood and lived the messages of Jesus so well that my brothers and I often insist that she should officially be elevated to sainthood by the Pope.

I think of how wonderful it would be to have St. Ellen of Houston, patron saint of widows and the mentally ill. I wish I knew the process for getting her name in the Pope’s mind. I think I even have proof of miracles that she has already made happen from her heavenly home. While I’m one of those people who is a bit suspicious of the idea of sainthood and miracles and such, somehow when it comes to my mom it seems feasible that there are indeed such people who live in our midst. They are somehow so truly believers and kind souls that they seem more godly than the rest of us. Those who know them see the traits of which I speak.

I have to admit that I have often questioned my own faith and I worry incessantly. I see so much unfairness and evil in the world and it gives me pause. My mother was never like that. She was an unsinkable optimist, and I have to admit that like the widow of the gospels she never ran out of food or the things that she needed to live no matter how meager it may have been. Some miracle or another seemed to take place even in her darkest hours. Then she would smile as if to say, “I told you so.”

It was great having her as a parent, particularly after our father died. I was totally frightened and traumatized. but she demonstrated over and over again that she would provide for us with God’s help. We used to laugh when something around our house broke, because an unexpected windfall invariably came our way making all well again. I sometimes thought that my mom was incredibly naive, and I assumed the role of family cynic when I was still a child. Again and again my fears were proven to be unfounded, and I eventually learned to have a little faith before coming unglued.

There are so many needs in this world, and often not enough willingness to help. We give tokens rather than stretching our budgets just a bit to include those who are less fortunate. The people who are known for their generosity are very often the very souls who can least afford to be so. Like my mother they happily reach into their pockets to support a worthy cause. I found that I was generally more likely to raise donations in a school filled with economically disadvantaged  students than in an exclusive private school. Perhaps it is because the poor have a better understanding of need than those whose lives are filled with comfort. They have experienced living on the edge, and so they give when they are able.

It is sometimes suggested that raising funds from private donations is better than compelling citizens to pay taxes to give to the government to support programs for the needy. That would be a beautiful thought if everyone were indeed as generous as the widow of the Bible and my mother. Unfortunately far too many would rather keep the four or five dollars that they might spend each day at a Starbuck’s than set aside that change for someone who is struggling to survive. While there are some folks who are poor because they are lazy, most are like my mother whose circumstances left her in a difficult economic situation. There are many many reasons for poverty, and we should all be willing to help those who are unable to help themselves.

This is a season of Thanksgiving and sharing. There are many worthy causes that merit our aid. The idea is to think of the less fortunate and give whatever we can afford and perhaps even a tiny bit more. It doesn’t even have to be to an organization. There may be someone that we know who can use our help. A gift card or basket of items that will get them through the coming winter months will most certainly be appreciated, and we can do so in the guise of just playing Santa Claus.

I love those angel trees that pop up at churches and schools. It’s delightful to fulfill the hopes and dreams of those whose holidays might otherwise be dreary. I enjoy the role models who show us how to be generous like Bill Gates and Mattress Mack here in my own hometown. Jesus tells us that if we share what we have, He will make certain that we will get what we need. My Mama always believed that, and I’m trying to imitate her profound faith and generosity.

Complacency Is Our Enemy

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
building dark lights perspective
Photo by Antonio Esteo on Pexels.com

I’ve always been drawn to books and television programs that feature true crime cases. I regularly record Dateline, Forty Eight Hours, and 20/20. I don’t watch them until I am performing some tedious task around the house like ironing. Then I fill the boredom with mysteries of murder and intrigue. Most of the episodes are somewhat similar in nature, and I have learned how to use my detective skills to put together the clues and determine whodunit. Once in a great while one of the features is different in nature, and it pulls on my emotions to the point of tears. Such was a recent Forty Eight Hours that told of a young man named Blaze Bernstein who was viciously stabbed to death.

Blaze was a happy and incredibly talented young man who lived in southern California with this loving and devoted parents. He was considered to be brilliant by both his teachers and his friends. His talents ran the gamut but it was writing that truly showcased his creativity. He also enjoyed cooking and being with and helping people. He was one of those young people who seemed to be heading for greatness when his life was so viciously ended.

At the same time that Blaze was impressing everyone that he met with his goodness and his potential, another young man was following a different path. He went to the same high school as Blaze but that is where the similarities end. This boy was filled with anger and hate. He became known for racist remarks that included vandalizing a copy of Raisin In the Sun with scribbles of the “N” word throughout. He drew pictures of guns and war, and made his classmates so uncomfortable that they whispered that he had the markings of a school shooter. Unfortunately nobody felt comfortable voicing any of their discomfort aloud. Eventually the hateful kid transferred to a different school, but everyone remembered the fear that he had engendered in them.

Blaze went on the an ivy league college where he was almost immediately a stand out student. After his first semester he returned home for the winter break, and all seemed well. Blaze of course was Jewish, and he had come out as gay, but none of that mattered to those who loved him, and they were many. During the break he got a message from the disturbed young man who had once been a fellow classmate. Without telling anyone where he was going, Blaze agreed to a meeting in a local park. He never came home.

Were it not for an unusually strong rainfall Blaze’s body might never have been found. He was buried under a tree in the park and a passerby noticed a muddy mound that seemed unnatural. Blaze’s body showed evidence of a raging knife attack. In the meantime, Blaze’s parents had done a bit of sleuthing and found a message on his computer indicating his intent to meet the former classmate in the park. When detectives descended on the suspect’s home they found a bloody knife with Blaze’s blood still on it, as well as blood in the perpetrator’s car.

The murder alone was so horrific that I cried several times during the episode, but even more frightening was that the killer had been a member of a neo-Nazi group called Atom Waffen that has chapters all over the United States. The goal of this organization is to literally destroy the United States of America. They celebrated Blaze’s death as a glorious victory with the double benefit of eliminating both a Jew and a gay man. The members are so violent that they consider the Alt Right to be a group of cowards who are not willing to bring about the level of anarchy needed to cleanse the world of all sorts of people who are undesirable in their minds. Most troubling is that they are gaining traction particularly with young white male teens who feel part of something important for the first time in their lives in joining ranks.

We all need to be fully aware that such groups exist, and we need to do our best to find ways to eliminate them. Nonetheless, Blaze’s parents have embarked on a positive and loving pathway to bringing tolerance into more hearts. They have established a foundation called Blaze It Forward in honor of their son. The goal is to encourage people to perform acts of kindness and to donate to causes that help people. They have been able to provide college scholarships and work with young people who feel disengaged. They have channeled their sorrow into love, and in the process have brought great meaning to Blaze’s short life in spite of his death.

I sobbed when I witnessed the courage and grace of Blaze’s parents, and found myself thinking once again of the importance of each of us working systematically to stoke the fires of compassion, acceptance and goodness in every corner of the world. We need to continually model the behaviors that we wish to see, and be on the watch for the wounded souls among us. I suspect that Blaze was such a good person that he may have agreed to meet his killer in the hopes of somehow changing his murder’s tortured soul. It was just the sort of thing that he was prone to do. His parents have followed his lead and focus their healing on good works. It’s something that we should all consider doing. At the same time we must speak out against hate groups and make everyone aware of their dangerous agendas. Complacency is one of our worst enemies that will only lead to more violence.