Month: May 2020

He Was Essential

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

meat

In this time of Covid-19 I have found myself thinking of my paternal grandfather, Paul Ulrich, more and more often. He came to the United States on a steamer from Germany around 1912. I never got to meet him because he died at a rather young age a few months before I was born. What little I know of him is garnered from stories from my mother and a cousin who was old enough to have actually met him. I have always wanted to know more about him and painting a picture of him is almost akin to putting together an all red jigsaw puzzle. I’ve had to infer a great deal but I’ve also found documents and scraps of evidence that tell the truth of the kind of person he was.

According the family memories much of the work that he did was typical of immigrants even to this very day. He spent time working on a big farm near what is now the Houston Ship Channel and doing lumbering work in the Beaumont area. Eventually he got a job at the Houston Meat Packing Company that operated on Navigation Street just east of downtown Houston. His job was to clean the area where the butchering of the carcasses took place. It was backbreaking work that bore heavily on his health. My mother often spoke of how her father’s legs were riddled with varicose veins so painful that he had to wrapped them in bandages before going to his job each day. In spite of the hardships his children always boasted that he never missed a single day of work until he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage that ultimately lead to his death at the age of sixty five.

I have been reading a great deal about the outbreaks of the coronavirus in meat packing plants across the United States. The essential workers there are on the front line of keeping the supply chain of meat products moving to supermarkets across the country. Sadly conditions in those places have lead to contagion on a massive scale. It is as though the environment of a typical meat packing production line is the perfect place to incubate a virus. The process requires workers to perform their duties without benefit of social distancing in very cold temperatures. Without proper protective gear such places have become like petri dishes for growing Covid-19, making the carrying out the duties one of the single most dangerous jobs in terms of contracting the virus.

As I have heard about the numbers of illnesses and deaths associated with meat packing and Covid-19 I have thought back to my own grandfather who was so much like the people who today work in such places. It is a job that has brutal effects on the body even in good times. During a pandemic it is dangerous, and yet we expect to see our grocery stores filled with our favorite cuts of meat without much thought of the people who are responsible for processing the products. They are all too often simply faceless persons, numbers on a data sheet that mean little to us. I suppose that because my grandfather was once one of them I find myself wondering who they are and how they are doing. My guess is that missing work is out of the question for them just as it was for my grandfather. They not only lose income whenever they are absent but in all probability they will be replaced if they choose not the be present too often.

We take so many of our remarkable resources for granted until they are not available and then we fret and complain, rarely thinking of the people who have been delivering our goods to us. We want whatever we want even as we shelter safely in our homes. The inconveniences bother us and we tend not to associate the hardships of others with our own personal needs. It’s natural to take things for granted when they have always seemed to be there. Ours is a land of plenty that is often the marvel of people the world over. Suddenly the smooth functioning of our systems is struggling to keep up with demands and it is as novel and frightening as the virus itself.

I don’t think that we always fully understand or appreciate the contributions of every person involved in the supply chain of goods and services in our world. We don’t see the long process that brings what we desire to our homes. We don’t think of the slaughter houses or the assembly lines or the person who cleans up the leftover entrails and blood. It’s difficult to imagine how grueling such jobs would become after performing them day after day. Many like my grandfather spend their entire adult lifetimes engaged in what must be terribly unsatisfying and difficult labor.

My grandfather was a collector of books. Each Friday after being paid his wages he would visit a bookstore where he purchased a new volume that he would read in the evenings. His interests were in science, mathematics, agriculture. I learned from perusing a box of old paperwork that he had once purchased land in Richmond, Texas. He told one of my cousins that he hoped to retire and create a farm there. The deed for the property was among the receipts but somewhere along the way, no doubt from necessity, he had to sell the acreage and along with it his dream.

My grandfather was not particularly respected in his neighborhood. He was an immigrant who spoke English with an accent. He had eight children crowded into a tiny house and he never made much money. Some people assumed that they knew him. They even went so far as to say that he and his family were dirty and uneducated and low status. They did not see that he was a man who worked dutifully every single day. He paid his bills, owned his home and died without a single debt in the world. His house was lined with the bookshelves filled with volumes that he had read. He was so much more than just someone who cleaned up a sickening mess over and over again. He was an essential worker in our society, and now because of Covid-19 we should all understand how important he was.

An Introvert’s Covid 19 Story

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I’m a bonafide ninety ninth percentile introvert according to a test I once took. I didn’t argue with the results or the explanation because the comments appeared to be right on target when they came to describing me. The analysis made a point of explaining that my introversion has nothing to do with a dislike of people but rather a preference for how to recharge my emotions. In other words I’m a people person who sometimes needs to retreat from human contact for a time just to ease the stresses of living. When times get tough I prefer a quiet weekend inside the comfort and privacy of my home, alone with my thoughts rather than sharing them in a large group in public. Our tendencies toward introversion or extraversion are mostly determined by the extent to which we feel better in a serene understated setting or one that is filled with people and excitement. In my case I unwind best with a walk alone in an empty forest or snuggled in a blanket on my couch with a good book.

Once we introverts are feeling calm once again, which rarely takes more that a few hours or days to accomplish, we are fully able to return to the crowds and the noise and actually enjoy our interactions with the world. Our feelings for the people around us are often even stronger than those of our seemingly differently wired extrovert friends who find so much joy and comfort in raucous gatherings after a long week of work. Perhaps it is our intensely deep feelings for the humans around us that are at the root of our need to step back into our little cocoons now and again. We are often empathetic to a fault. We notice those who are hurting with little more than a glance at the pain in their eyes and then worry about them until we are assured that they will be okay.

As an introvert I tend to be content with little more than observing the birds in my backyard or time spent writing in my front room where I can hear the children playing in my neighborhood. So when we were asked to isolate ourselves in our homes for a time to prevent the spread of Covid-19 I believed that I had been preparing for such an eventuality for my entire life. It seemed as though being confined to my quarters would be an intensely pleasurable experience and one that would lead me to a kind of self healing of the soul that would feel luxurious. Sadly I did not count on the longings for purpose and social interaction that have always defined me. I did not seem to understand that my introversion is a healing mechanism, not a lifestyle.

At first I felt rather joyful staying home. After all I have virtually anything a person might want to keep myself busy and entertained. My husband Mike is my very best friend and I enjoy my conversations with him. We have food in our pantry, books on our shelves, flowers in our garden and interests to keep us occupied. I’m not someone who cares much about food so I honestly don’t miss eating out. I suppose I could go the rest of my life without entering a restaurant and be just fine. I used to enjoy shopping as a kind of sport but it does not give me the thrill that it once did. I can enjoy a movie as much and perhaps even more in my living room than at a theater. I politely put up with sports but don’t really miss them now that they are gone.

Nonetheless after many weeks of staying home I find myself longing to get back out into the swim of things while hearing people say that I am part of a group that should continue to maintain my now self imposed isolation. I sense that my patience with this situation is wearing thin and in that realization I see more and more clearly the true meaning of my introversion because what I long for most are intimate gatherings with my family and friends. I can see them on Zoom conferences or with a FaceTime call but I really want to hug them and see their faces. Just sitting next to them without saying a word would be glorious.

If things were still normal and Covid-19 had not entered my life I would have been as busy as the bees that flit around my yard. By now I would have spent time in the mountains of Colorado with my brothers and sisters-in-law. I would have celebrated with my grandsons on Aggie ring day and attended parties for a number of young people who are graduating from high school or college or medical school. I’d be packing and preparing for a grand tour of Scotland with a Rice professor as my guide. I’d be excited about taking our trailer out for camping trips and counting the days until the Elton John concert for which I snared tickets back in November of 2019. I would have gone to see my aunt on her one hundred first birthday and I’d get to spend time chatting for hours over lunch or dinner with friends. I would get to be with my mathematics students when I teach them the fundamentals of arithmetic and Algebra. I would sit inside my church again smiling and embracing the lovely people that I are there each Sunday. I would be out and about in my bustling city grumbling about the traffic but secretly enjoying that I live in a place so vibrant and filled with life.

I miss all of that so very much and I wonder when I will be able to feel safe enough again to join the world around me without a mask or gloves or hand sanitizer or disinfectant wipes. I have grown weary of feeling a profound sense of worry about the physical and economic health of the world. I sense an almost tectonic shift in the routine ways of doing things that is shaking all of us to our very core. I long for normal even as I fear that I will have to redefine what that means. I want to believe that we will be able to come together to make positive changes that will make the world an even better version of itself than it was before Covid-19.

On some days I am filled with optimism and on others I grieve. Perhaps my introverted tendencies are too much with me. I am overthinking and instead of comforting me, those thoughts sometimes lead me to conclusions that are terrifying. I see us humans attempting to avoid truths by showering ourselves with superficialities, but thankfully I also see instances of profound compassion and sacrifice. My hope lies in the prayer that we will ultimately make our way through all of this but this time we will watch and learn how to build a better world.

When the dust settles I will cast aside my self imposed shackles and literally dance back into the flow of life. I will be everywhere with everyone. I’ll still be an introvert at heart but I will grab the world with everything that I’ve got.

We Can’t Keep Looking Away

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Georgia-shooting-of-Ahmaud-Arbery-will-go-to-grand-jury

I have a grandson who is a runner. Seeing him gracefully striding around a track is a thing of beauty, the ultimate vision of human endurance and grace. He has a particular racing style that reminds me of a gazelle and I never tire of watching him in action.

This would have been a record breaking year for him but sadly after only a few track meets the season ended when schools were closed due to the virus. He has continued to run each day nonetheless. Those moments when he is able to feel the wind on his face and achieve a feeling of being totally in sync with the world have been good for him. They allow him to forget about the troubles we are facing if only for a few minutes each day.

I thought of my grandson when I first heard of the killing of Ahmaud Arbery in Georgia by two men claiming to have taken him down under suspicion of being a thief on the run. When I eventually saw the video of Ahmaud in his last moments I was stunned. I saw his jogger’s stride before he encountered his attackers. This was not the furtive motion of someone evading capture. It was most certainly the pace of a seasoned runner who was pursuing a most innocent pastime. He must have been terrified as he realized what was happening and he struggled unsuccessfully to get away from the danger. Watching the film is exceedingly difficult and heart wrenching but we cannot look away from it because it holds a truth that we must face.

Of course there is a difference between my grandson and Ahmaud that is striking. Ahmaud was a black man while my grandson has blonde hair and blue eyes. Ahmaud had a lovely smile that lit up his face, but those vigilantes who became judge, jury and executioner without even a consideration of evidence would never have seen his sweetness. The color of his skin and the fact that he was running was all they needed to know.

Sadly they got away with their crime for a time. Law enforcement accepted their story and seemingly decided the case was closed. Ahmaud might have been just another casualty of racism, the victim of a lynching, had not his mother continued to question the circumstances surrounding her son’s death. Eventually videos of the scene that had been filmed by passersby emerged providing an unavoidable clarity for determining what had actually happened. Over seventy days later the two men were arrested.

My daughter says that she does not worry when my grandson runs in the neighborhood. He is a good boy and almost everyone knows him, but she understands that if she and he were black she would be terrified each time that he set out from home with his track shoes. We still have far too many in our country who seem to believe that color, not character defines people. They are suspicious of anyone who does not fit the stereotypes of their minds and sadly too many among us excuse their flawed thinking. It is easier to look away when people spew their hate and sometimes even our leaders attempt to cover the ugliness of such actions by insisting that those who spread their foul beliefs are really just good people who are frustrated or feeling left out.

As humans we often feel so uncomfortable confronting truth. When athletes kneel during the National Anthem to shed light on the racism that still exists we tend to ignore or insult them. On the whole we are unwilling to admit that there is a double standard that lurks beneath the veneer of our society. Groups among us will become enraged when a white hairdresser is jailed for flaunting restrictions during our pandemic, but they can’t see the reasoning behind the Black Lives Matter movement. If groups of minorities protest it is often called a riot but if gun toting white men scream in the faces of state troopers because they do not want to be restricted by pandemic rules even our president applauds them for fighting against tyranny. Then those same folds scratch their heads in wonder when any minority feels beset upon.

I’ve been having a difficult time maintaining my usual optimism for the past couple of weeks. I am witnessing a level of anger and ugliness that I have not seen since my high school and college days when we were engaged in a struggle to end segregation and a war in Vietnam that had gone so very wrong. It was a frightening time during which the curtain that had been hiding the rot that festered in our nation was drawn wide open. A schism rocked the country and we all found ourselves either choosing sides or averting our glances and joining the silent majority. When the dust finally settled we were eager to just go back to a more normal state, but far too much had simply been swept under the rug where it has been sitting ever since becoming foul. Somehow our nation’s biggest mistakes have never been properly faced and rectified. We are still too afraid to admit that while we have freed the people whose ancestors were wrongfully enslaved and even given them the rights that we take for granted they are still struggling to be free from judgement and persecution. We have yet to adequately call out the racism that exists in corners of our society and because of that it only tends to grow.

I realize that we will never be able to eradicate hatred. It is been a part of the human experience since Cain killed Abel. All across the globe one group fights with another. What we can do is call out those who flaunt their racism in the public square. We must insist that our leaders deride any person or group who discriminates and foments violence against a particular group. We have to quit categorizing individuals based on the characteristics of color or ethnicity or sexual preference or religion and we need to voice our disdain for those who do.

Our future in the coming weeks and months is uncertain but while we are rebuilding our economy we would do well to consider insisting that our leaders understand that we have grown weary of accepting a status quo that still allows stereotyping. We need to finally speak up. Looking away is no longer an option.

What Will We Choose?

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

virusMy husband and I check on the maintenance of our home and our truck on a regular basis, much as we do with our health. We look for minor repairs and get them done well before they become a major expense. Sometimes, of course, we miss something but for the most part our vigilance has kept our lives running smoothly over the years.

We try to do the same thing with our income. We have sacrificed many times in the past because our funds were running low or we encountered an unexpected expense. When my husband developed an infectious disease that required three months of chemotherapy and time away from work it was a huge struggle to keep our household running but by adopting an extremely frugal way of living we made it through that crisis very early in our married life.

When I think of the times when we had to live on the financial edge it makes me shudder but we both had grown up in families that stuck to strict budgets that rarely included luxuries like going out to eat or regular visits to hair salons. Our parents taught us how to live simply from day to day and how to survive the unexpected. We just naturally did what we had seen them do and didn’t see our own skills for riding the ups and downs of life as anything special.

I have been quite understanding of the financial pain that the Covid 19 pandemic has imposed on so many people. I am particularly concerned with those who have lost their jobs because unlike normal times the competition for employment will be fierce. Businesses are still essentially closed or working at less than half of their capacity. The owners of small businesses depend on a regular cash flow to pay their employees, mortgages, utilities and such. Our country and those of the world have been hit hard by the interruption of commerce.

I’m not an economist or finance major. My accounting skills are limited to balancing a checking account and filling out an income tax return. I’ve created budgets for a mathematics department in a school and distributed funds from grants and federal programs. I do not consider myself an expert in business anymore than those who are questioning the veracity of the medical community are better informed than the rest of us regarding viruses. Still, I sense that our current situation has uncovered a terrible symptom of our economic rot.

What I am observing is that far too many people appear to have been living way too close to financial ruin. I hear stories of individuals who are within one hundred fifty dollars of being totally broke and I wonder how such a thing can happen in only four weeks. I see this as a big problem and one that is almost unimaginable to me. I find it confusing that so many people appear not to have planned ahead for financial emergencies even as I feel great compassion for them and believe that we must help them. Still, I think that each of us must reflect on our habits of the past and ask ourselves if we have all been a bit too profligate in our lifestyles.

I hear the complaining of people who long for dining out, a pleasure that used to be something reserved for special occasions rather than routine expectations. I find myself considering that perhaps we have all been a bit spoiled in our ways when I see angry women bemoaning the fact that they have not had manicures or pedicures for weeks. I recall that I was well into my sixties before I ever visited a nail salon and I didn’t feel as though I had missed something that was essential in my life. I laugh at my own hair that is overgrown and revealing little specks of gray but I do not feel a sense of panic that something must soon be done about it. In fact, my locks seem to be enjoying the holiday from all of the products that I usually slather on them.

I’ve had long sincere conversations with my grandchildren in which they have questioned the wisdom of our consumption centered society. I have actually suggested to them that they are far too idealistic and that one day they will become more practical and change their ways. Now I find myself considering their ideas more and more seriously. I see that they are not that far off the mark. I remember when I was young and critical of the world as it was. I saw possibilities then with the unsullied eyes of youth. I suddenly remember my own causes and how important they were to me. The pandemic and the resulting political chaos it has engendered has loosened the scales that have been covering my eyes and I now understand what my grandchildren have been saying. I believe that there is a better way of living that provides us with what we truly need while caring for all of the people of this world along with our beautiful planet. It will take some sacrifices to achieve but it’s time we began the process or we may one day find our entire planet on the brink.

We can learn from this experience and build for a better tomorrow or we can just fall back into our old routines without consideration of the bigger picture. Life is not just a day to day process but one in which we really do need to consider the long haul and the symbiotic consequences of even our smallest actions. It’s time for each of us to set aside fears and rancor and discuss the way forward. Let’s keep our slower pace going. Let’s focus on relationships. Let’s cherish the bluer clearer skies that are reminding us to keep our planet healthy. Let’s ask ourselves what we truly need and avoid the waste or our resources. Let’s listen to our young for they are unafraid to dream. It’s up to us to choose how to proceed.

Gazing At the World

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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So this was on Facebook from Frank Swain@SciencePunk:

Study 3 years for degree.

Study 3 more for PhD.

Join lab, start working.

Spend years studying problems.

Form hypothesis, gather evidence.

Test hypothesis, form conclusions.

Report findings, clear peer review.

Findings published, reported in press.

Guy on internet: “Bullshit.”

This post didn’t just make me laugh hysterically, it summed up my feelings about all of the disagreements regarding Covid-19 and whether or not it is a dangerous virus. The members of the medical community and numbers of scientists and researchers are all telling us that we must be wary of underestimating the potential of the virus to continue to impact our lives. At the same time there is so much noise from individuals and groups whose only qualifications for understanding and discussing infectious disease are their gut instincts. I ask myself why they are so intent on not only ignoring the cautions from those with the most knowledge about such things, but also on insisting that the rest of us bow to their right to gamble with innocent lives.

Their answer appears to be to make fun of those of us who want to stay put in our homes. They mention our fearfulness and puff up with a kind of bravado as they boast that they are not worried. They taunt us by saying that we can just stay home as long as we wish as long as we leave them alone, give them their freedoms. They act as though we are the ignorant tyrants, the sheep who have fallen for perhaps the biggest hoax of all time. Even as I write this they are flocking to beaches and malls and gathering in large groups without masks or distancing as though to thumb their noses at those of us who are gravely concerned that their behavior will make our own isolation last even longer.

Right now all of the neighbors in my cul-de-sac are having a kind of celebration across the street. They are wonderful people and I would like more than anything to join them. Under any other circumstances I would already be there, but I observe that they are not wearing masks and they are seated too closely together. They seem to believe that there is no danger even though only a few days ago nine people from a nearby nursing home tested positive for Covid-19. They act as though they are unaware that our suburban area is among those with the highest number of cases from around Houston. They are young and mostly healthy so I suppose that they are feeling the urge to get on with life and just  allow me to hide away as I must surely seem to be doing.

What is my game? Why am I so wary? Perhaps it is because I will be seventy two in November and my husband will celebrate his seventy third birthday in September. He has heart disease and only recently underwent surgery to place stents in his heart. He has been told by his doctors to avoid going out or being in crowds. They don’t even want him to come to their offices. The teleconference with him instead. Even the local Cardinal of our church has asked that we not attend Sunday services now that they have resumed at twenty five percent capacity.

Maybe I am careful because I have a ninety one year old father-in-law who depends on me and my husband to help him. He’s looks exceptionally good to most people who see him but we know that he has a number of health issues and that he is slowing down considerably. We help him to get food and supplies and my husband keeps him updated on the technology that allows him to take care of business without leaving his home. We can neither afford to catch the virus nor accidentally infect him. It seems logical that we need to stay inside.

I have friends and relatives who are members of the medical community. They have not yet let down their caution and they urge me to be as vigilant as they are. They continue to worry that we are not yet in a safe place. I defer to their expertise because they have been correct about every other medical issue that I have presented to them. They are privy to information that most of us do not have. When they tell me to continue to take precautions I listen.

I have a grandson with asthma and I worry about him. I worry about other members of my family who have various and sundry issues. I know that I can’t allow my anxieties to overtake me and ordinarily I do not. This is different. We have been warned what may happen if we act to resume normalcy too soon and yet so many choose to ignore the very people who are most likely to have the answers. I suppose that some among us may actually have the luxury of risky behavior, but if I am to be responsible I have to face the fact that I cannot take the chances in which they are indulging.

So I sit dreaming as much as anyone else to leave the confines of isolation. I want to visit my one hundred one year old aunt who is all alone in her nursing home. I long to be back at church. I’d love nothing more than to go camping in my trailer or to travel to the Texas hill country to see my children and grandchildren. I want to teach my math students in person and have lunch with my grandson at his university. I’d love to walk through the mall and have dinner with friends. I want anyone who thinks that I am just silly or unduly afraid to understand that if I only had myself to consider I would already be out and about. What I know is that my careless actions may adversely affect many others. Therefore I stay inside. I wear my mask. I don my gloves and religiously wash my hands. I gaze longingly at the world that is moving outside. Maybe the ones celebrating their freedom are right and the experts on whom my decisions rely are all wrong. That’s not a chance that I am willing to take.

I will keep gazing at the world through a window. I hope that I won’t have to do this for very long, but my experts tell me that I am in for a long period of isolation. If I save even one person from the dangers of Covid-19 it will not have been in vain.