Author: Sharron Burnett

I like to make lists: groceries, places to visit, books to read, things to do, topics to tackle with my writing. Such inventories provide me with a visual outline of what I hope to accomplish and sadly now that I grow older a way of actually remembering ideas that pop into my mind and then evaporate all too soon. I don’t think I’ve ever considered making an accounting of things that I will never ever do but people like to challenge me with wild ideas for my blogs. Recently someone asked me to compile such a catalog, no doubt out of curiosity regarding what kind of crazy ideas lurk  in my psyche. I suppose that whatever we avoid says as much about us as what we actually do. So just for fun here is my tally of twenty five things I never want to do.

1. I’ve heard that snakes hang out in fields of bluebonnets so I won’t be lying down amid the flowers to take a lovely photograph any time soon.
2. I saw images of a friend skydiving. Since I’ve had to work very hard to make my fragile bones stronger it is highly doubtful that I will test my progress in that regard by jumping out of a plane.
3. I refused to eat liver and onions as a child and I see no reason whatsoever to try that noxious dish after seventy two years of successfully avoiding it.
4. I can’t imagine reaching a point at which I am ln longer learning just a little bit more each day.
5. I refuse to turn on a friend or family member over politics. We may differ wildly in our beliefs about issues but our divergences will never change my personal feelings for them.
6. I have no desire to travel in a boat. I become seasick at the drop of a hat. My landlubber genes must be quite powerful.
7. I will never abandon my relationship with God. I don’t always get what I think I want from the heavenly power but I always get what I need.
8. I will never stop traveling even if I become so frail that my journeys must become virtual. 
9. I cannot imagine giving up the hard copies of my books. Touching the paper and even smelling the ink is part of the sensual experience of reading.
10. I will never again mow a lawn. I used to do so every weekend from April through November. Then I found a most wonderful helper named Jose who does a far better job of trimming my lawn and he does it in under an hour. Why would I want to return to doing such a thing myself?
11. In that same spirit I do not even attempt to undertake any tasks related to plumbing when I have Big John and his crew just a phone call away. I’ve got some great stories about do it yourself plumbing projects that turned into disasters.
12. My life has improved exponentially with technology and I cannot even consider the idea of one day giving up my laptop, my smart phone or any of the other appliance that make life easier than it has ever before been. I used to just want my MTV but now I am greedy about by Netflix and Amazon and Hulu and Britbox as well.
13. I will never take my freedoms and privileges for granted. I know full well that by pure happenstance I ended up in a world of opportunity and promise.
14. I will not listen to nor support individuals who take joy in denigrating or bullying others. I have no time nor desire to encourage them with any form of acceptance.
15. I will never leave my teaching roots. Somehow I will find a way to help others to learn no matter what my own condition may be. There is no greater joy that passing information from one person to another and watching the seeds of knowledge grow and multiply.
16. I refuse to puff myself up with so much arrogance that I believe that I have somehow found the secret to life to which others are not privy. There are many different ways to life gloriously.
17. I don’t want to ever grow up completely. Everyone has a bit of Peter Pan in them and I cherish that part of who I am. Being young at heart is wonderful.
18. I won’t go to bed angry. I try to resolve conflicts as quickly as possible.
19. I won’t forget to say my prayers each morning when I rise. They set a positive tone for the coming day.
20. I’ll do my best never to hurt anyone either with my words or my actions.
21. I’ll try not to forget kindnesses that people have showered on me. I do remember all of the times that individuals have offered a helping hand or an understanding shoulder on which to lean.
22. I will never underestimate the sacrifices that my parents and grandparents and ancestors made for me. I am who I am because of them.
23. I want to try not to dwell as much on the problems that challenge me as the blessings that seem to always come my way. It’s often too easy to get mired in the muck.
24. I won’t forget that very little that is worthwhile comes easily. I will put forth the efforts I need to continually improve myself as a person.
25. I will not worry as much as I always seem to do. After seventy two years I should surely know that things always have a way of working themselves out if I curb my control freak tendencies and just go with the flow. I need to keep reminding myself that it is always easier to list my hopes and dreams and optimism than to come up with a rendering of things that I want to avoid. That is the real wonder of life.   

I grew up in a neighborhood where everything felt shiny and new. Houses were going up all over Houston in the aftermath of World War II. The returning soldiers were ready to get on with life and there were plenty of jobs for them to do. Houston was a boom town of sorts, continually growing with its modern port and refineries that stretched for miles. Oil was king and there was plenty of it along with jobs that promised good pay and pensions. Mid twentieth century homes were designed with stunning features. Schools were brimming with the growing population of children of whom I was one. Like my birth city we became forever known as the Boomers, a legacy that would both compliment and insult us over time. 

I suppose that I might have thought of my childhood as perfection save for the untimely death of my father. Nonetheless my mother wisely found a safe and wonderful place for my brothers and I to grow into adults. It was a neighborhood filled with young moms and dads eager to create a good life for their often exceptionally large families. Overbrook as it was called was located along the Simms Bayou in southeast Houston in one of the early suburbs of the city. A railroad track enclosed one end of the area like a kind of security gate and seemingly every aspect of life centered on school and church.

The core of my childhood universe unfolded at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Catholic Church and the two schools associated with it. From the second grade until I graduated from high school I walked each morning from my home on Belmark Street to the classrooms where the foundations of my life were slowly built by dedicated educators who instilled in me and my peers a sense of wonder and respect for the world and its people. That church and those schools were my refuge in the most difficult times as well as my inspiration for all that I would eventually do as an adult. 

I made wonderful friends in those days, many of whom are still very much a part of my life. There were others that I only knew peripherally because our paths only crossed in the hallways or in views from the cafeteria tables. One certainty that was a constant for me was that all of the people were good souls who shared many of my dreams. We had fun growing up together little realizing how much alike we were because of the similarity of our experiences and our parents. Nonetheless after spending so much time together for years we were more than ready to embark on new adventures on the day of our high school graduation. We accepted our diplomas and barely looked back as thoughts of life beyond the borders of our little world called us. 

We went in many different directions, some far away and other just down the road from where we had grown from children to young adults. We used the knowledge we had gained and built upon it to create our own careers and families and friendships just as our parents had done. We kept in touch with some of the people we had known and lost track of others. Time seemed to accelerate as we tackled the kind of problems that life invariably tosses our way. We celebrated birthdays and milestones and grew older until one day someone was reminding us that it had been fifty years since we had left the hallowed ground where our journeys had all begun. It was time to think of a reunion. 

A group of hard working alumni planned a wonderful evening for us and to our great delight many of our fellow classmates came. Our youthful vigor had been replaced with graying hair, balding pates, a bit more girth than we had once had. Still, we looked wonderful all in all and in reality nobody really cared much about appearances the way we once had as teens. We were just happy to see each other and to know that we were all mostly doing well. We honored those who had already died and embraced those who were very sick and would not make it much longer. We listened to stories of great adventure, loss, heartbreak, triumph, the usual threads of living. Amazingly we realized that in spite of the differences in where we lived, our work, our incomes we were more alike than different. Somehow the core of our childhood had become the essence of who we were as adults. 

I had found the confidence and strength that was lacking when I was a student. I was no longer as shy and fearful as I had once been. I like myself and by extension I enjoyed other people in a most delightful way. I found it easy to talk with my former classmates, even those that I had barely known. I enjoyed hearing about the many ways that they had chosen to live their lives. I found unexpected connections with people that I had once only given a passing glance as I was rushing to a class. Mostly I realized how hard we had all worked to be good and decent people. I was proud of who we were and what we had accomplished. 

It has now been five years since our get together but the most enterprising among us have created mini-reunions from time to time at restaurants and breweries. We have been able to delve more deeply into who we are as people. Sadly we’ve also come together for funerals or to support members of our group who have become seriously ill or injured. We celebrate the joys of anniversaries and birthdays and the accomplishments of grandchildren. More than anything we simply love each other even as we realize that our politics and philosophies are sometimes widely divergent. Nothing seems to come between us anymore. We are one as the Class of 1966 from Mt. Carmel High School, brothers and sisters with a special and eternal bond. 

A number of things are irritating me and taking up my time right now. My fairly new air conditioner is suddenly not working. I’m dealing with lots of rain and drainage problems. A package I ordered was sent to the wrong person at the wrong address. I can’t find anyone willing to come replace missing boards on my chimney. I ordered a door which has supposedly arrived but nobody seems to know where it is and why nobody is scheduled to hang it at my home. I am a born and bred control freak and so I get out of sorts over such things. Then I see what is happening in India with Covid-!9 and suddenly none of my puny concerns seem worthy of anxiety. I am well, vaccinated, living safely inside a comfortable home while my brothers and sisters in India are in a state of crisis. I know that nothing is more important than getting them the help they so desperately need.

I saw a live report from Delhi that left me in tears. The health systems have virtually collapsed there. Hospitals are literally overwhelmed and so many people are dying that crematoriums are being created on car park lots. Bodies lay in wait for hurried last rites while the living desperately attempt to find help for sick family members. Makeshift areas offer oxygen for individuals who are barely alive. The vaccination centers spiraled into a state of chaos and had to close. It is a human tragedy of such depth that it is difficult to even imagine, but the photos all too vividly tell the stories. 

There are many among us who believe that while the situation in India is sad we need not worry too much because we have our own problems here in the United States on which we must concentrate. It’s easy to understand why people think that way but in truth we can no longer afford to be isolated from the rest of the world. The old saying goes that if a butterfly flaps its wings in Africa we will all ultimately feel its effect. Ours is now a global village of interdependence that makes it impossible to simply look the other way when one nation is in trouble, particularly one that contributes so much to the rest of the world. 

India is the largest producer of vaccines in the world among other things. It is the oldest democracy in the area and has of late made great strides in modernizing and leading in the technological world. We have a connectedness with India that goes beyond goods and services. Some of our most productive immigrants originally came from there. They and their children have become doctors, scientists, teachers, engineers, journalists, business titans and now Vice President of the United States. The contributions of India to the United States are vast and if for no other reason than that we owe it to them to do everything possible to help in this crisis.

More importantly is the sheer humanity of what is happening. We like to think of ourselves as being the good guys in the world and quite often we are. Now is the time to come together to help a nation that is bowing under the strain of illness and death. India is experiencing the nightmare that we all hoped to avoid as we locked down, wore masks, distanced ourselves from others, worked and learned remotely, lined up for vaccines. While we appear to be turning a corner, India’s infrastructures are collapsing from the sheer volume of illness and death. 

it is incumbent on the rest of the world to pitch in to help in any way possible. Up until tomorrow flights were still arriving from India to the United States on a daily basis. Banning those flights does not guarantee that we will not experience a resurgence like India has. We screen and test but what might happen if the more virulent form of Covid-19 that is devastating India were to begin to grow and multiply in our own country? Would we be able to handle another round of increasing deaths and restrictions? My guess is that we would be caught off guard and that many people would be resistant to taking measures again like lockdowns. We might find ourselves entangled in the same kind of crisis that India is now witnessing. It is in our best interest and that of all the world to help to bring the virus back into control in India. Not doing so is not only arrogant and heartless but also ill conceived. 

I hear stories about India on the news but I do not see pleas from people asking for contributions to send aid other than one friend who routed her followers to a Go Fund Me page dedicated to purchasing ventilators, oxygen, masks, and medical equipment to India. If every man woman and child in the United States were to contribute only one dollar we would be able to send over $300,000,000 for such causes. Most of us would never miss such a small amount of money. It’s time we contribute to efforts to stem the tide of disaster in India. 

One of my dearest friends is currently in one hundred percent lockdown in India. She let’s me know that she is doing well but of course I worry about her. Two of our family doctors are originally from India and another is the son of parents from India. I have a personal interest in helping, but then I believe that all of us do. We can’t just pray for India. We must act now. It is our duty as fellow humans to help.  

After weeks of isolation and horrific winter weather spring is showing off its glory everywhere in my neighborhood. April and May are perhaps the most beautiful times of the year where I live. By June the temperatures will mostly remain in the nineties and by July they will be trending toward one hundred degrees or more. Spring around here is glorious in every possible way and this year brings more promise than ever as more and more people get fully vaccinated and feel free to get together safely for the first time in over a year. 

I generally awake early. I can’t seem to sleep for long periods of time anymore. Once the sun begins to barely peek through my curtains I arise and begin my day with a routine that I really enjoy. I make myself some tea and breakfast and take it to my front room where I enjoy the gathering of children at the bus stop near my home. I love the sound of their laughter and conversations. These days they are fully masked and ready for the ride. If this bothers them they don’t complain. They appear to have grown accustomed to the new ways of doing things. Children are incredibly flexible like that. It’s one of the aspects that I most like about them. 

Once the three buses have picked up the elementary, middle and high school students, in that order, the parents begin their journeys to work. I listen for the garage doors to open and observe them navigating to the end of the cul-de-sac. Many of them now stay home and work remotely so the neighborhood is more populated and lively during the day than it has ever been in the past. I like knowing that my friends are nearby if I need them. Now and again one of them has an emergency and we all don our masks and do whatever we can to help. An elderly man recently fell and was unable to get up on his own. He was too heavy for his daughter to lift him alone. Some of the younger neighbors who work from home had him on his feet in minutes and luckily he appeared to be fine. That brought a big grin to my face. I like knowing that I am surrounded by good people.

I especially enjoy watching one of our locals begin his day with a stringent exercise routine that he completes in a gym he has created in his garage. He faithfully dedicates one hour each day to a series of exercises and weightlifting that is so inspiring. I marvel at his agility with a jump rope and long for the days when my knees allowed me to do such things. Instead I stick to my treadmill and long walks around the area. Such is the exercise of choice for most of the other residents who fill the sidewalks each morning as though there is an official promenade. 

Spring cleaning and repair seems to currently be the most popular task. Everywhere I gaze I see painting and planting and hear the sound of hammers and saws. Garbage days bring sidewalks filled with tree limbs and worn out items that nobody wants anymore. Sometimes enterprising individuals drive by in their pickup trucks scoping out the trash in search of items that they might recycle and bring to life again. 

Back in early March the landscape looked as though there had been a forest fire on our properties. Bushes were brown from the freeze. Lawns seemed to crackle under our feet. Everything felt gray and muddy and lifeless. We were outside with all of our neighbors attempting to coax our trees and shrubs and flowers back to life. It was a daunting task because certain varieties were quite obviously dead. Now green is everywhere. The lawns are growing so fast that everyone is mowing again. The trees are filled with lovely leaves. Roses are bursting with blooms of many colors. Flowers seems happier than ever before. It is like a landscape painting from Renoir around here and it makes everyone smile. 

Mostly I enjoy seeing the children finally playing outside. They ride their bicycles and play basketball at the end of the street. They run and laugh and fill the air with unadulterated joy. They remind me to remain hopeful because happiness always finds a way to bloom even in times of great distress. 

The world is certainly coming back to life where I live but I find my heart feeling a bit heavy over the places in the world where suffering from Covid-19 is at unparalleled levels. I understand that as long as anyone anywhere is dying from this virus we are not yet home free. I have to continue to pray and do my part to beat back the devastating effects of this pandemic which has so tragically united us all as fellow humans. I long for everyone everywhere to begin to feel the same sense of optimism that is slowly but surely poking its head into my part of the world. 

The birds and butterflies fill my yard and entertain me from my windows. My optimism soars from all that I see but I cannot become complacent. We are one in this world and nature, even in the form of a tiny microbe, is an integral part of who we are. We should be happy to celebrate a bit while still respecting those around us with the same precaution and care that we have given our gardens and our homes. This should be a time of renewal and repair with all of the people throughout the world. I hope we heed the call to put in the work. If we do our efforts will surely bloom.

I remember a time when it was commonplace for people with green thumbs to take visitors on a tour of their gardens. My Grandmother Minnie Bell was proud of the flowers and vegetables that graced her landscape and why not? She worked quite hard to cultivate the profusion of flora that lined the fences and burst forth in resplendent glory under her care. She regularly donned her khaki pants, work shirt, rubber boots and floppy hat to work the soil and pamper her plants. It was a routine as ever present as cooking meals and brushing her hair. As with preparing food, tending a garden was a joyful experience for her and so she never minded the amount of effort and folk knowledge that it took to create her masterpieces of nature. 

My Grandma Mary turned her entire backyard into usable ground with pathways that took her from one plot to another. She was more inclined to plant fruit trees and perennials that provided sustenance and a bit of color without a great deal of effort. Still, her creation was like a lovely maze and always made me think of how the garden of Eden may have looked with its tempting fruit hanging above lilies and herbs. 

I always got a kick out of visiting my friend Linda’s mom who seemed to experience as much joy from her gardening as my grandmothers did. Mrs. Daigle would proudly point out the many varieties of flowers and bushes that she often grew from cuttings, seeds, and gift plants from friends. She seemed to enjoy sharing her wealth of nature and I often left her home bearing a new variety to plant in my own yard. To this day her daughter has the same knack for growing things like a pro that her mother had and she also likes to share what she has. I have huge pots of fern from New Orleans from her and an orchid tree that she grew from seeds and brought to me during our period of COVID 19 isolation. 

My thumb is not nearly as green as my grandmothers’ or Mrs. Daigle’s or Linda’s but I certainly caught the gardening bug from them. My love of puttering in the soil is so strong that I literally feel as though the mere act of planting activates the serotonin in my brain and makes me giddily happy. My rubber boots of the same kind that my grandmother wore are my favorite pair of shoes. The heavy rose gloves that protect my hands and arms are a prized possession. The hours melt away when I am working in my yard and I don’t even notice my achy bones and muscles until I have finished my tasks and realize that I have probably overextended myself. 

The joy of gardening is real for me. It’s almost seems to be baked into my DNA and especially when spring rolls around it feels as though I can’t visit nurseries often enough. I am constantly looking for one more plot of land or big pot to plant some flowers or a new bush. I fill my calendar with reminders to fertilize my roses, azaleas, hibiscus and plumeria. I walk around the beds looking for weeds to pull or branches to trim. I smile at the birds that come into my yard and pray that the caterpillar on my bush will indeed turn into a monarch butterfly. 

If someone were to give me a gift of a hundred dollars with the proviso that I spend every dime on something for myself I would probably visit a vendor of plants or save it for the Houston Garden Society Bulb Mart that has a gala event of plant heaven each October. Vendors bring amaryllis bulbs, native plants, citrus and fruit trees, compost and special soils. It is a celebration of gardening with kindred spirits smiling as they fill carts with the promise of lovely things to come. Some of the most wonderful things I have ever planted have originated from this market and none of it ever dies because it is perfectly suited for the conditions of soil and climate in our area. 

Even now I find myself scanning my yard wondering if I might plant some flowers in an open space or bring in some compost and soil to create a new bed to expand the glory of my domain. My plants are like my children needing to be tended and loved. I talk to them and urge them to grow and enjoy my care. I pamper them and keep them warm when the temperatures become too cold. Sometimes the potted ones winter inside my house and my garage like snowbirds seeking refuge in the south. 

My former home had a huge yard with ample room for a compost heap. I kept it on the side of my house and nobody complained because there were no members of an HOA deciding what I might not do. That dirt was rich and filled with juicy earthworms that kept it from clumping into clay like the native soil of this place. I’d use in to grow vegetables or to enhance the long line of azaleas that grew along the back of the property. I miss that composting area. I think I’d like to have one again but neighborhood rules preclude such a thing so I might be tempted to take the aforementioned one hundred dollar gift to invest in an enclosed compost drum. Like my both of my grandmothers did I would become a recycling queen by using the leftovers from my kitchen as eventual food for my yard. 

Spring takes me to my garden and fills me with hope even in the direst of times. I think that growing things is one of the most wonderful things we humans have learned to do. There are few sights as beautiful to me as a lush landscape created by the hands of a dedicated individual. It can be a work of natural art. Spending time and money and care to make our world more beautiful is a wonderfully worthy task and it seems to me to be a panacea for many ills and areas producing plants do not have to be mowed. It is a lovely investment indeed.