Author: Sharron Burnett

I remember tagging along with my father to a hardware store back in the days before big box home improvement centers. My senses came alive on those Saturday morning adventures. The smell of lumber and oil permeated the ambiance of the place. Instead of plastic boxes holding nails and screws there were open bins of all kinds of fasteners that one might purchase one at a time or in bulk. There were tools lining the walls and strange machines that fascinated me as I tagged along behind my daddy who seemed to know exactly what he needed for his current project. Of course just as he did with everything, he instructed me on the importance of finding the right tools for each job. 

I loved those places. They were usually much darker than the stores of today. They looked as though they had always been there like a shrine to the art and science of building. They were peopled by taciturn men with rough hewn hands who nodded to one another but moved on quickly in their quest to get back to whatever projects were planned for the day. It was a very different kind of shopping excursion than going with my father to a bookstore. He and the other men were on missions to accomplish tasks. There was a quiet bustle about the place that spoke to the business of getting things done. Conversations were quick and to the point with a few nods speaking volumes. 

To this day I get a kick out of walking through a hardware store, particularly if it is mostly like the ones of long ago. I tend to find them and gravitate toward them on our camping trips in small towns where Lowe’s and Home Depot have yet to come. The people working inside them seem to know all about what to do in any situation. They are able to instantly find whatever we may need. It feels as though they were born and raised inside those little stores cutting their teeth on sawdust and nails. 

We have an Ace Hardware store near where I live that comes mighty close to being like the stores of old. The aisles are wider and the lighting is much improved but there are still rows and rows of bins holding treasures that only the well informed know how to properly use. It’s a good place to visit to get really fine information on how to do things or whom to call to provide a competent repair. 

I can spend hours walking through a good almost old fashioned hardware store. I’m fascinated by the tools and products and often willing to give them a try inside my home. My own skills rarely get past hiding holes in the wall or gluing things together, but I often purchase things just because they seem like items that might one day be useful. My husband is the person who is handy when it comes to keeping the house in working order. He learned almost everything he knows from his Uncle Bob, a long time electrician whose garage was almost as well stocked as one of those old time hardware stores. 

Uncle Bob taught my husband well. He can accomplish almost any needed repair with the exception of those have anything to do with plumbing. He tried that a few times with disastrous results. After a total fiasco on one occasion he vowed to leave plumbing to the experts and he never looked back. Nonetheless he has a fairly good idea of how to do most home repairs or improvements and over the years I have accompanied him to hardware stores many times. Being in such places never fails to fill me with a sense of joy. 

Our garage is filled with handy tools that my husband inherited from his uncle. Some of his screws and fasteners are older than he is but still perfectly good for emergency jobs. My husband carefully stores everything in labeled drawers and bins that allow him to access whatever he needs quickly. He’s become a kind of “Bob Vila” of the neighborhood. Everyone knows that he has the supplies and the expertise to keep a home in good working order all of the time. He may have been a banker by trade but his passion has always been learning how things work and keeping them fine tuned. We often laugh when we realize that he might have been a happier as an Electrical Engineer or even an electrician like his Uncle Bob. Somehow the urge to build and fix things is baked into his DNA just as it was for my father and my grandfather. 

I’m excited because we plan to visit a hardware store in a small neighboring town today. I’ve never been there before so I intend to take my time perusing the offerings. Visiting a hardware store is always an adventure for me that evokes Saturday mornings when I awoke early like my father and tagged quietly along while he selected his supplies for the day’s project. I never picked up his skills but I certainly learned to appreciate them just as I do those of my husband. I enjoy learning from him just as I did with my father. Mostly I appreciate the remarkable skills of all people who know how to make something wonderful from a bit of this and that. The builders of the world fascinate me and make me smile. They may not be erecting cathedrals or skyscrapers but the work they do is fascinating and often starts with a visit to a hardware store.  

I have always been in awe of the stars and planets that lie beyond the confines of the earth. I remember lying on my back on summer evenings gazing up at the heavens. I tried to imagine the immensity of the space beyond my reach. I marveled at the effects of the daily rotation of the earth on its axis and the seasonal tilt that creates winter and summer, fall and spring. I thought of the beautiful precision of the earth’s annual revolution around the sun. The mathematical beauty of it all filled me with wonder.

When I was a fourteen year old freshman in high school my physical science teacher set up his telescope on the football field one evening and invited all of his students to come take a gander at the stars and planets. I’ll never forget adjusting my eyes and suddenly seeing Saturn with its rings looking as though it was close enough for me to reach out and touch it. I can still see that image in my mind and feel the excitement that consumed me in that moment. 

Later the teacher focused the telescope on the moon. I saw its craters and stony surface. I thought of my eighth grade teacher who assured us that one day there would be a human walking on the moon. I would be twenty years old when that amazing feat actually took place. I was in awe and even a bit jealous of the men who had traveled to the moon. I imagined that one day humans might take for granted the process of traveling back and forth to celestial places. I felt both a spiritual and intellectual connection with the incredible brilliance of human capabilities. Somehow we seem to have always been ultimately destined to explore the universe. 

I suppose that I will not live to see humans conquering and uncovering the secrets of the universe. I still imagine a day when we learn of other living creatures like ourselves. It seems logical to me that within the vastness of space there most certainly will be other beings with minds as creative as our own. I predict that the time will come when earthlings use all of the greatest minds to finally connect with whatever life is out there just waiting for us. 

More than anything I am fascinated by the workings of the universe and the ways in which each planet and star follows a set of rules that determines where it will be relative to every other object carrying out its destiny in the vastness of the heavens. I suppose that humans have always looked upward with wonder and made attempts to understand how it is possible for the reoccurrence of the phases of the moon and the demarcations between day and night. Even ancient cultures attempted to learn the secrets of how it all works. 

There are haunting places like Chaco Canyon in New Mexico where the Anasazi Native American tribe appears to have studied the heavens and made its movements part of religious ceremonies. With only basic tools and observations they were able to predict the solstices and the positions of the earth relative to the sun and the moon. I feel a kind of reverence whenever I visit there. I sense that the movements of the heavens have inspired humans throughout history to believe that there are forces almost beyond our comprehension that created such a wondrous system. Different cultures in different times and places have always believed that only a God would be capable of such creation. 

For me faith comes naturally whenever I gaze at the heavens. I may not believe all of the rules and traditions created by human beings, but I definitely sense that there is someone or something bigger than any of us who somehow came as the universe began. Scientists tell us that it all started with a big bang, but who and what made that big bang? There has to be a starting point. Nothing comes from nothing so what was the magic that made everything that we witness today? 

When I think of how small I am in relation to the millions of years that have led to this very moment I am filled with a sense of awe and even joy. It is all so incredible and I don’t ever want to take this beautiful earth where I live for granted. I truly believe that each of us has a duty to work together to keep the magnificence of our planet moving forward, not standing still or looking backward. The evolution of life has spanned more time than any of us are capable of imagining. It is now up to us to keep that forward movement going. We came into a garden of eden but we have not always treated it well. Our selfish tendencies have made so many of our fellow creatures and humans sick. It would be a grave sin to waste the glory of this place where we live. 

I do not think that there is any more important issue on this earth than unselfishly joining together to keep our beautiful place in the universe working as it was meant to be. It is our duty to overcome the sins of those who came before us who looted and destroyed the land and its creatures and people. We can be happy and comfortable if we simply honor the great gifts that make it possible for us to live peacefully and bountifully on this blue orb that seems to have a very special place in the grand scheme of the universe. The God in whom I believe has told us over and over again how to live. His/Her message is quite clear. We must honor God, ourselves and each other. That means caring for the place that was intended to keep us all living without want. We have a job to do. It’s time to get busy and to demonstrate our gratitude for the creation called Earth.

I admittedly fear death, not my own, but the death of people that I love. I have no doubt that this obsession comes from the unexpected death of my father during my childhood. I tend to dwell on thoughts of losing someone, especially as I myself grow older. No matter the circumstances it is always tough to say goodbye to someone who has been part of our own lives, but now and again we hear of an instance when death was a beautiful and spiritual experience. 

Everyone of us knows that death is inevitable. Nobody gets out of this world alive. We are reminded again and again that each of us have a limited lifespan, some more so than others. We watch a loved one suffering at the end of life and our grief is punctuated in knowing how difficult the last moments were for them. Sometimes individuals take charge of the situation much like a lovely woman who quite recently died. 

She was a lively individual who was sassy and joyful. She was the kind of person who made everyone in a room feel welcomed and loved. Somehow this lady made an indelible impression on me even though I had only been around her a few times. Her charisma and energy drew me to her and when we talked it felt as though we had been the best of friends for years. Time and distance kept us apart but I often thought about her with great pleasure. We exchanged Christmas cards and I heard stories about her from those who had first introduced me to her. 

This incredible woman was as lively as can be while reaching her mid nineties. Without warning she found herself in need of gallbladder surgery. The surgery was a success but the anesthetic left its mark on her kidneys. She could have undertaken months and even years of medical treatments but instead she chose to let nature take its course. She had been blessed in life and saw no need to extend it any more than necessary. As she grew nearer to death she was able to visit with all of her loved ones and she remained as wonderfully delightful as ever. They gathered around her and witnessed the peacefulness of her heart and her faith that God had been with her all along her journey. There was no suffering, only the happy expectation of joining her husband and her daughter in heaven. 

I think that this is the way most of us would like to spend our final days. We don’t always get that kind of choice but when we do it is a kind of blessing. Many among us choose to accept the inevitable on our own terms rather than attempting to elongate our lives with endless treatments and visits to doctors who are telling us that all it will buy is weeks or months. 

My mother chose to forego treatments that would have extended her life only a matter of weeks. She too passed from the world surrounded by family and in a state of elation. There was literally a glow about her when she smiled. She had made peace with her destiny and gave each of us the gift of knowing that she was happy in those final moments. 

I read a rather controversial editorial in a past issue of The Atlantic after hearing about it from my primary care physician. It was written by Ezekiel Emanuel, a doctor and the brother of Rahm Emanuel. In the essay he said that once he reached a certain age he would no longer take extreme measures to extend his life. As a physician he had noted that those who do so tend to suffer more in a quest to keep living than those who face the inevitable truth that their bodies are slowly shutting down. He did not suggest that younger people avoid such treatments or even older folks whose diagnoses of better health are fairly certain. He was talking about last ditch efforts with very limited promises. 

I have a friend who agrees with Dr. Emanuel. She is in her late seventies and is refusing all but the most basic medical services. A cousin of mine did the same after his diagnosis of heart failure had exhausted every possible surgery and treatment that might have given him years rather than weeks or months. Not long ago an uncle turned down surgery for the same reasons. These people chose to die naturally rather than attached to tubes and wires. 

I’m not sure how I will feel if and when such a day comes. For now I have few health issues other than arthritis and osteoporosis. I take medication for heartburn but my actual heart is working like a champ. I may live a very long time with or without extra efforts like my grandfather did. It’s not something that I worry about unless it involves someone I love. Then I find myself wanting to try anything to keep them alive just a bit longer. I suppose that maybe I should just let them decide how they want it to be. Instead of worry about their deaths I should spend more time enjoying their lives. None of us know when that last breath will come. Being afraid of it is not the answer, but getting the most out of each breath we take is.   

I have always been utterly fascinated by the creativity of humans. I suppose my interest began when I tagged along with my father. He enjoyed explaining things to me and I soaked up his information like a sponge. When he created a model of our home I spent hours quietly watching him work at his drafting table creating the three dimensional scaled down replica. Even though I was still a toddler he showed me how to use ratios and proportions to change actual measurements into miniature images. I remember being fascinated with his drawings and his patience in making studs and shingles and planks out of balsa wood while explaining his every move to me as though I was old enough to fully understand what he was saying. 

When I was a bit older and we were living in another house he tutored me on the steps for creating a sidewalk. Once again I watched him meticulously measuring and planning for the concrete structure that would lead us from the driveway to our front door without ever walking on the grass. To this very day I do not take the sidewalks around my neighborhood for granted but I sometimes wonder if there had been enough care in constructing them because I know they are cracked and tilted while the one my father built is still as straight and strong as ever. 

The world is filled with individuals whose minds are so brilliant that they somehow seem to transcend the limitations that most of us feel. I recently thought about the two graduate students who met at Stanford University and turned an idea for a doctoral dissertation into what we now know as Google. As students they became the talk of the Computer Science department as they begged and borrowed equipment to test the mathematical algorithms that they had created to bring order the the worldwide web. The work that started in their dorm eventually continued in the rented garage of a woman who was struggling to make the payments on her home. With seed money from interested investors the rest of their story became history. 

My father taught me to watch for such innovators. He dreamed of the future and often spoke of the concepts that he believed would eventually become reality. One of his prized books was an early depiction of the rockets that would one day carry humans to the moon and into the outer reaches of the universe. That illustrated tome became the impetus for my brother to study engineering and later work with NASA to send astronauts to the International Space Station. 

I always regretted how much my father missed with his early death. He would have been incredibly excited about the space program. I feel certain that he would have wanted to be part of the work happening just down the road from where we lived at the time he died. I knew that he had been searching for a job that would be meaningful and the exploration of space was just the kind of thing that motivated him and captured his creative spirit. 

My father also understood the fragility of the earth’s ecosystem. He spoke of our need for water and how the oceans might surely become a source for our human needs if only we found a way to remove the salt. At dinner time he would regale us with ideas for making the earth a better and healthier place. He took delight in sharing his knowledge with us even as we sometimes barely managed to understand what he was saying even when he used the simplest of terms. 

Now I watch a younger generation that shares my father’s fascination with implementing new ideas for transforming our world. I get as excited when I hear them as I did when my father expounded on the creative natures of humans and the possibilities of the future. I can see my dad driving an electric car and telling me how solar and wind power will save us from our our hubris which had the audacity to believe that we do not need to keep learning and inventing and adapting and caring about doing things right. 

We can’t afford to stand still or lapse back into old habits. I learned this from my father. It is up to each of us to stay abreast of innovation and to encourage the bright minds among us to take chances in the quest for knowledge and the betterment of how we live. My father would tell me to have an open mind and to appreciate the process of discovery. These are lessons that have influenced me for all of my life because I remember him embracing the evolution of ideas in mathematics and engineering and even in the arts. He understood history as a driver of progress, not as a stationary exemplar of how to cling to the past. He taught me to appreciate the great minds who always seem to rise up to save civilization even in its darkest hours. 

My father taught me to believe in the best nature of humans. He showed me over and over again how noble we can and should be. Thinking of his lessons fuels my optimism. Watching the world through his lens tells me that we may face some rocky times but we will eventually be better than okay. Right now someone is already working on an idea that will elevate us all. I can’t wait to hear about it and bring it into my life.  

I still celebrate spring break even though I retired from public education thirteen years ago and have no children left at home. I’ve continuously kept my hand in the education game during all of that time that I have been away from a formal job. Somehow I have been unable to just let go and be totally retired so each week I spend two days and three evenings either being the mathematics teacher of a number of home-schooled students or tutoring those who are in public school. My familiarity with mathematics has kept me busy from the moment that I walked away from a full time job and provided me with some “fun” money to spend on my home and my grandchildren. Somehow I simply can’t break the habit of scheduling my routines according the the school year calendar. 

Spring break always comes just in the nick of time when students have lost focus and teachers are tired and wondering if they have made any progress at all. The short days of winter are behind us and the children enjoy more opportunities for using channelling their pent up energy into the natural pursuits of running, playing and exploring the world. Learning is not just about books and formalized lessons. There is so much that our youngsters must do beyond the classroom in order to fully understand themselves and the world. Spring break heralds a time of more balance for youngsters and their educators. We all need a bit of independent fun and relaxation now and then to keep us feeling fully whole. Coming back refreshed gives us the will to make the final push before the end of the school year which is only weeks away. 

The coming days will feature a frenzy of activity in which those of us who are teachers push to bring our planned curriculum to fruition in every student. We’ll have to fight a number of traditional student “illnesses” like spring fever and “senioritis. “ Another educational journey with our students is coming to a close but hopefully the knowledge that each person takes into the future will represent important building blocks in helping them to become confident and capable adults. Knowing that our students are ready for the next phase in their lives is one of the greatest challenges in school year after school year, often with little notice beyond the confines of the thousands of classrooms across the nation. 

As is often the case with humans we tend to focus more on our failures in getting each and every student successfully past the goals that we set at the beginning of the school year. We beat ourselves up when we realize that some of our charges are still struggling at the end of our artificially imposed deadlines. We forget the reality that each of us grow at our own individual paces. When we push a template for the timing of success on everyone we are bound to feel as though we have failed. Instead we might consider breaking down the education of an individual into a series of goals that we measure according to each person’s needs rather than a generic deadline. 

Spring break and the changing of the seasons always reminds me of the folly that we impress on our children when we expect them to progress in lockstep. Little in life works that way. Even the trees of the same variety in my yard burst into buds at differing times. I have learned to be patient and confident that the ones that are the last to demonstrate their awakening are often the ones that will be the most beautiful. 

If I am willing to allow the natural rhythm of my plants to demonstrate their glory then I wonder why we feel so compelled to constantly rank our youngsters according to the speed with which they learn and perfect skills. We already know that humans do not develop along a preset schedule and yet we ask our children and their educators to push hard to insure that everyone reaches the finish line of a school year by a predetermined date. Our insistence on such rigidity is holding back those who grasp the concepts more rapidly and injuring the confidence of those who require more time. 

We make our teachers and many of our students feel inadequate because we insist on a one size fits all way of educating the masses. We treat individuals as though they are all the same which works nicely when discussing rights but misses the mark when applied to the process of learning. We do our children a disservice by forcing lots of square pegs into round holes. Sometimes we actually damage the psyches of those who learn in different ways and at different times. 

Perhaps spring time should not beckon an ending of a particular school year but simply a time to realign our efforts to match the progress of each individual child without stamping him or her with the labels of winner or loser. Instead we should list what we know each student has mastered, celebrating individual efforts wherever they fall on the continuum of what they need to learn. Think of how wonderful it would be if we were to focus on the process rather than racing to an endpoint. We might begin to create lifelong learners rather than a nation of people who see schooling as something punitive. 

One of my grandsons is a runner. I have watched many of his races and inevitably there are gifted athletes who are far ahead of the pack. Then a tight mob of good but average runners come along and finally there will be a few who cross the finish line noticeably later than their peers. In every case the crowd cheers everyone on, clapping for their willingness to keep going. We congratulate them for their efforts and for the fact that they are trying while we are only sitting in the stands.

Maybe one day spring break in schools will be followed by celebrations of what each person has learned rather than a competition in which some students and teachers earn accolades and others only feel like losers simply because they have accomplished or learned a bit less than their peers. Instead we should be congratulating them for what they have successfully completed by showing them the progress they have made. If we build on each personal outcome in appropriate ways everyone will keep running in the springtime sprint knowing that it is actually a marathon in which everyone has a chance to get to the finish line.