Author: Sharron Burnett

We all know of many people who left the world a little better than it already was. I suppose that it is natural to want to make a difference in this life. We tend to think that only big achievements like leading a movement for justice or finding a cure for a dreaded disease are the types of accomplishments that really matter, but the truth is that small things are some of the greatest things. Sometimes it is that very quiet person that few notice who is doing the most to improve our human condition. 

When I think about my own life there are tiny moments that left the most impact on me. I remember my mother and her total devotion to me and my brothers throughout our lifetimes. I recall the time when my Aunt Polly visited me at school and saw that I had ants on my food. She not only took care of me that day but made sure that the school permanently ridded itself of the ants. I think of Mrs. Barry helping me when my mother first became so ill with bipolar disorder by driving us to a downtown hospital emergency room. I carry an image of my Uncle William changing my little brother’s wet pants on the day of my father’s death when most of the adults thought we were just oblivious little kids unaware of what had happened. I feel thankful for my friend Cappy who called to see how I was doing after my second vaccine for Covid-19 because she had sensed that I was a bit anxious. I appreciate Carol who phones me whenever she notices that I am becoming a bit overly concerned about something. My list of people who have made the world happier and more compassionate might go on for thousands of pages. It would be difficult to name all of the kind gestures I have experienced like the gift of a plant from Linda and Mickey when they saw that I was confined to my house during the pandemic or a call all the way from India from Zerin just to say hello.

All of the everyday, ordinary acts of courage or honesty or love are what makes the world a better place. Taken together they morph into a movement that quietly overtakes the negativity that so often threatens to drown us in anger and cynicism. There is indeed more than a fair share of ugliness in this world but it is far outpaced by the goodness that is literally everywhere. 

Right now I see a young man on my street playing with his little brother. Surely the joy that they are exchanging with each other will make life better not just for the two of them but for me as well. Watching them bolsters my optimism and chases away the distrust that is far too easy to find these days. 

How many people arise faithfully each morning to travel to work that seems rather ordinary but is crucial to the smooth running of the wheels of commerce and industry? We take what they do for granted until they are suddenly absent and duties pile up, things get left undone. We miss their smiles, their jokes, their stories, their dedication. They may seem like tiny cogs but if even one of them breaks the system does not run as smoothly as we wish it to do.

We have seen how essential each of our workers are during the pandemic. In fact, it seems as though everyone is essential, and they are. We need our doctors and nurses and the crews that keep our medical facilities clean. We need teachers and bankers and truck drivers and plumbers. We now know the importance of each individual. We can see how they indeed leave the world better by their presence and their actions. 

I know that I have made a general difference in this world just from being a mom, a wife, a daughter a friend and a teacher. It would like to think that somehow I have impacted someone in an important way. From time to time I have had people tell me about the meaningful changes I brought to their lives but what I really want to leave behind is compassion, integrity, and example. I try to model the behaviors that I most value. I’m not always the best, but I keep trying.  When I become angry or lose patience I simply start over again. I’m a firm believer in second, third, one hundredth chances. 

We can’t all be as incredible as Mother Teresa or Albert Einstein but we don’t have to be that outstanding to put a mark on the earth. Our influence may appear to wane quickly once we die. One day we may appear only a name on a family tree but if we really think about it each of us is an important link in history.

I often consider my great grandfather who fought for the Union Army during the Civil War. I would never know him personally, but knowing of him taught me about patriotism, loyalty and courage. I saw his impact on his daughter, my grandmother, and hers on my father. I in turn pass down the traditions and the stories from them to my children and grandchildren. I teach my family members who these people whose DNA they share were and how they made a difference in so many lives and ultimately in our own.

I recently saw an amazing photograph of a woman approaching one hundred years old who had spent time in a concentration camp during World War II. She was surrounded by almost a hundred people who were her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and great great grandchildren. That one life that survived terror and went on to demonstrate the glorious resiliency of life will exponentially change the world for decades and hopefully centuries to come. That is how we make a difference. That is how we leave our mark. 

I rarely think about the possibility of my own death. Instead I have become a bit too worried about losing others, my family members and friends. I suppose it is a natural thing to do in a year like we have endured of late. Each week seems to bring news of people near and dear to us leaving this earth either from the virus that stalks us or other causes that often have a link to the upending of normalcy in our current state. At the age of seventy two I have had to more and more often face the prospect of human mortality and I honestly fear the deaths of others far more than the idea of meeting my own end on this earth. 

My doctor recently told me that I neither look nor act like my age which is mostly true but sometimes I find myself having conversations with friends that might have horrified me only a few years ago. We speak of our weak bladders and fragile bones. We discuss whether or not it would be a good idea to install grab bars in the shower and wonder if this may have been the last Christmas when I should climb back and forth into my attic bringing down decorations for my home. We laugh as we realize that we have become the old joke of sounding like our parents as we speak of topics that would have held little interest for us five years ago. We number our peers who have already died and feel a bit rattled when the baby brothers and sisters who annoyed us a children pass away. We understand that our own expiration dates are drawing nearer and that we need to make the most of whatever amount of time we have left. 

I remember my mother-in-law in her very practical and businesslike way tutoring my husband on her will and what needed to be done in the event of her death. It used to annoy me in all honesty that she wanted us to think of such things instead of just enjoying life and worrying about funerals and such whenever the time arose. Still I have dark memories of my own mother at the age of thirty walking through the grounds of a cemetery in a zombie like daze attempting to find a final resting place for my thirty three year old father. She always urged me to take care of such things long before I would need them so that I would not have to endure the pain and confusion of such a dire duty. So when I was only in my twenties I invested in cemetery plots for me and my husband. 

Now so many people prefer the idea of cremation and instead of having funerals they plan memorial gatherings that are upbeat and celebratory. The ones that I have attended are delightful affairs that bring people together to remember a person who was dear to them. I like the idea behind them but still want the final prayers and blessings of my Catholic faith to be part of my send off whenever that may come. As far as the other conventional trappings my theory is to keep them as simple and inexpensive as possible. The cost of burying someone has become almost as ridiculous as the weddings that are more expensive than a college education. I’m all for simplicity as long as people have a moment to grieve and laugh and remember together after someone is gone. 

Wakes are the part of the final send off that are the most meaningful to me. They give people who have never even met one another the opportunity share their memories of the deceased. It is a rare moment in which we get to see the totality of a person’s impact on others, not just the sliver of our own experience. It amazes me how meaningful every single moment of existence can be as a vivid picture of life unfolds in the stories that are told about an individual. It always makes me wish that we had made our pronouncements while that person was still alive and able to learn of all the love and enjoyment that he/she had brought to so many people. I often wonder why we wait until death to open our hearts and share. 

My brothers and daughters and I decided to give my mother a surprise party on her eightieth birthday. We believed that she would surely be one of those people who lasted until well into her nineties so our purpose was not so much to celebrate her life while we were still able to do so, but to give her the gift of knowing how much we appreciated all of the sacrifices she had made for us. For that reason we asked each of the guests to write a letter to her describing how she had impacted them. Happily we received touching responses from mostly everyone which we put together in a lovely binder. It was our way of quietly celebrating the joy that my mother had brought to everyone she encountered. 

We still have that binder with those letters to hand down to our children and grandchildren and great grandchildren so that they will know the glory of the woman from whom they descended. We had little idea that less than four years later our beloved mother would die. We had no thought to what a treasure that party and those letters would ultimately become for all of us. We literally have a written record of our mama’s impact on the world and it is a lovely gift.

My only living aunt is now over one hundred years old. Death is very much on her mind as she spends her final years in a nursing home. Whenever we visit she asks us about heaven and gets a faraway look in her eyes as though she is wondering when her moment of leaving the earth will come. She once told my mother that she worried that she would live so long that there would be nobody left to attend her funeral. She did not think about the legacy of children and grandchildren and great grandchildren and great great grandchildren that she has created. She did not consider the nieces and nephews who so profoundly love her. She will be celebrated most assuredly but perhaps it would be even nicer to let her know right now how important she is to each of us. 

I don’t know what people will say about me when I am gone. I would like to think that they will remember me as someone who was kind and compassionate because I try so hard to be that way. I hope that they will know how much I loved them and how important their well being always was to me. I want to believe that somehow my life had meaning and purpose. Mostly I want everyone to feel happy in knowing that all of the goodness in my life came from knowing and being with them. 

Two years ago my husband and I visited London with my brothers and their wives. We fell in love with the city and its history. Perhaps we were influenced by a professor from Rice University whose classes we have taken in the years since our retirement. He had made London come alive in our minds and we could not wait to see all of the wondrous places he had described. During our visit we found a modern vibrant diverse city filled with treasures from the past and so much to study that we knew we would have to one day return to see everything that interested us. 

When the pandemic came all chance of traveling to London dissolved and so we began watching videos from different people filming areas as they took walks around London. At first the changes engendered by Covid-19 were only minimally noticeable in the quick little films. The crowds on the streets were not as large as they had been when we visited but the stores were open and the traffic was moving and there was still a sense of energy about the city. Most recently as the new UK variant of the virus has forced more drastic precautions a kind of pall has settled on London that is clearly evidenced in the videos. Streets are nearly empty and shops and restaurants are mostly closed. It feels as though London has become a ghost town with dumpsters filled with garbage being the only indication that people are still living there. The virus has taken command much like another plague did back in the 1600s. 

I suppose that all of us would like to think that we will very soon be able to just return to the world as we new it before Covid-19. Many of us have decided that we are done with all of the isolating and quarantining and mask wearing and lack of human touch. We have begun to distribute the vaccines and we think that surely our most vulnerable populations are on the way to being almost immune to the most horrific effects of the virus. It is so tempting to believe that we must surely be immediately freed from all of the constraints of the past year. 

Sadly we are learning that we have to contain our enthusiasm for just a bit longer. We have to be patient as we watch for hard data indicating that all of our efforts are in fact beating back Covid-19 before we rush out to a way of doing things as we once did. We hear that the UK variant of the virus is in our midst and as of this moment we do not know exactly how it is going to impact us. Our friends in the UK warn us to be wary and those videos of walks in London provide witness to the effects of the new strains. 

So my priority for now is to continue to follow the advice of the scientists and members of the medical community. With two vaccines in my body I am in a better place but I am not out of the woods and neither is anyone else. The process of healing will be slow and hurling insults at President Biden or Dr. Fauci because they want us to keep our masks firmly planted on our faces will not change reality. Making fun of those who continue to be cautious and insinuating that they are just frightening sheep does nobody any good. A wise society and one concerned with everyone would  be happy to make small sacrifices for the good of the whole. 

We have become greatly confused about what constitutes a democracy, a republic, a socialist society, a communist nation. If someone asks us to let people know if we contract Covid-19 some argue that their freedoms are being taken away when the truth is that tracking the virus will save lives. We need to know where the outbreaks are and when we do we can protect others without ending up with an entire city or state or nation in lockdown. When we wear masks we do so to protect both ourselves and others, not out of some hysterical need to control the choices that other people make. Working together during a pandemic should have nothing to do with politics and yet we have turned it into a war of wills rather than understanding the need to do whatever it takes for the nation’s good. 

We bandy about the word patriotism a great deal these days. We argue about who has more right to claim that badge of honor while also witnessing our flag being used for purposes that fly in the face of our nation’s principles. We even use it to defend ridiculous theories that Covid-19 is a massive hoax that has been perpetrated on our citizens. Those who refuse to follow the recommendations for stamping out this plague argue that they are preserving our freedoms even as they ignore the damage that their actions have done. 

My priority at this moment in time is too stare truth in the face. I will not look away. I will not be swayed by illogical unscientific posturing. Insult me all you wish. Call me a sheep, a snowflake, a communist intent on destroying democracy. I can handle whatever you may throw at me because I know that it is far more difficult to do the right thing than to give up and surrender to my own desires to just feel normal again. I will be patient. I will be kind. I am willing to share what I have with those who have little. We are in the pandemic not as individuals or families or neighborhoods or cities or states or nations but as the world. Something happening in London or Paris or Beirut or Wuhan affects everyone of us because the virus knows no borders, acknowledges no politics and respects no walls. We make changes and stay vigilant and share and remain patient for the common good of all. I’m proud to do my part.

Life was not without its  challenges or sorrows when we lived on Anacortes Street and my daughters were still little girls, but it felt so simple and joyful. Our days revolved around helping our children to grow in wisdom and grace. It was a neighborhood effort with parents watching over our young ones and helping each other through both good times and bad. We were one great big extended family that lived in different houses that were open to one another even in the middle of the night if need be. 

Our next door neighbors were a bit older than Mike and I. They had teenage children as well as a couple of daughters who were already grown and living on their own. Dave and Betty always had a house full of love and laughter that included visits from their two granddaughters, Kim and Tisha, who happened to be in the same age group as my own little girls. It was quite natural for the youngsters to gravitate toward one another and spend time together during those times. 

I remember how joyful it was to watch the four girls playing in our backyard. Just as all children do they talked and laughed and created ways of having fun together. I mostly recall how much they enjoyed singing. One of their favorite tunes was something about a baby bumble bee that made us all smile each time they repeated its silly stanzas. I marveled at how quickly they were able to become so comfortable with one another and always looked forward to the times when Kim and Tisha came to town to see their grandparents. My daughters felt the same way. 

Of course over time they all grew up and since Kim and Tisha lived in west Texas their visits were often infrequent. Once they were on their own, as were my own daughters, we only heard about them from our dear friend Betty, their grandmother. It was not until Facebook that we were able to reconnect with them and follow the stories of their lives. By then they were juggling their own families and I had moved from the old neighborhood. 

During the last couple of years I followed the health issues of Kim who was closest in age to my eldest daughter Maryellen. Kim endured quite a bit of pain and loss but somehow she kept that same smiling and optimistic outlook that had defined her as a child. Through surgeries and long hospital stays she inspired those of us who knew her as we rooted for her recovery and cheered every positive step.

Things appeared to be going better for Kim but she and her family had only months ago endured the loss of her beloved grandmother, Betty. I think all of us wondered how we might move forward without the anchor that Betty always was. Kim missed her especially and only days ago mentioned to her sister Tisha that she longed to see Betty, whom she called “Maw Maw,” once again. Who knew that her wish would be granted so soon? Kim died quite suddenly and peacefully this week. 

I cried at the news of Kim’s passing. I always think of her as such a sweet and giving soul so much like her Maw Maw. My heart weeps for Kim’s mother Sandy because I cannot even imagine how horrible it must be for her to lose her little girl, especially given that Sandy’s mom, Betty, died only months ago. The loss of such special people leaves a void that is never again filled. 

I remember overhearing a discussion between my mother and grandmother when my father died. Both my mom and grandma were totally devastated by his death. In fact neither woman was ever quite the same after he was gone. My grandmother spoke of losing her parents, and a spouse and then her only son. She said that it felt so wrong, so out of sync to lose a child. I suppose that is how I felt when I learned of Kim’s passing. Somehow in the grand scheme of things we want to protect our children from all sorrow and harm but know that sometimes all of our efforts are not quite strong enough to prevent the inevitable ups and downs of life and death.

Kim is no doubt hugging and loving her grandmother even as I write these words. They are laughing and telling stories and just enjoying the fact that all of the pain of their illnesses are gone. I suppose that they will now be angels who watch over their family members for all time. 

Love does not end with death. It continues through eternity. It is an endless thread that binds us to one another. Kim was the essence of love. The beautiful generosity and innocence that I saw in her as a child was still very much who she was as a grown woman. We have all been blessed to have known her and the love that she gave the world will remain in our hearts. 

I pray that Kim’s mother Sandy and sister Tisha will be filled with her love and that it will sustain them in the times to come. For me I suppose I will always remember the sweet little girl who sang and laughed in my backyard and made me smile. Rest in peace, Kim. 

There was a time when students had no phones, no tablets, no laptops. If they needed to call a parent they went to the office. I they wanted to find information they went to the library. Then came the dawn of a revolution when a few young people carried cell phones that did nothing more than send and receive calls. Mostly they were for contacting parents although a few enterprising and sneaky kids found ways to hide and use them in the middle of the school day. Mostly in the beginning teachers had control over the use of phones during school hours with only a few exceptions. Then the smartphone boom began and young people started bringing their tablets and laptops to school in their backpacks. There was no turning back from the insurgence that took classrooms by storm no matter how many rules the adults attempted to make. 

One of my daughters was reluctant to get her children on the technology train at an early age but she soon realized that without cell phones and laptops they were unable to keep up with the rest of their classmates. Teachers were sending assignments electronically and communicating about due dates and projects via texts. In class much of the research and testing took place on tablets and laptops. Long before Covid-19 came along much teaching was already being distributed remotely. Without the same tools that the other students had my daughter’s children were struggling and so she had to cave in to pressure and purchase smartphones and laptops for them. She was shocked by how quickly they adapted to using the technology that still somewhat befuddled her. 

In today’s world we see toddlers walking around with phones whose apps they know how to use. Babies get trimmed down versions of tablets with games and stories that teach them early childhood skills. Even the youngest among us are adapting to technology with ease. Ours is a world in which great knowledge is just a few keystrokes away. It’s possible to learn about any subject even in a remote area as long as there is some form of access to the Internet or a cell phone tower. The question is whether or not our children are actually taking full advantage of this remarkable technology or if they only use it as a social distraction. 

We have documented cases of bullying taking place with both anonymity and ease via technology. We see a cesspool of misinformation roaring across our screens and sometimes the sources of such lies are our elected leaders. If our young are to use the phones and tablets wisely they will need to be able to differentiate between fact and fiction, history and hoax. They will also need coping skills for moments when they are attacked by words. The ugly underbelly of our advances is dark and dangerous and as parents, teachers and concerned adults we must all be aware of the pitfalls of giving our youngsters free reign with their very powerful tools. Sadly instruction in how to deal with information and ideas is lacking and we have yet to learn how to convey it without sounding like nagging, lecturing old people who have lost touch with the world as it now is. Nonetheless it is important that we make those efforts lest the very devices that we gave our children for their protection and education become their doom,

As an educator one of the most frequent concerns of parents that I heard about was that their young ones spent too much time on computers and phones. Sadly they were not doing lessons but rather playing games or chatting, often with people that they had never even met. They sat in their rooms for hours away from the families engrossed in a world that their moms and dads feared. The parents wanted to take control but were unsure how to maintain a balance between allowing the kids to use the technology to do their lessons but not for spending hours in a world filled with questionable people and information. 

Technology is a blessing and a curse all at once. I am a big fan of the advances that have been made. Technology has made my life incredibly better than at any other time. I have used it for a full year now during the pandemic to teach students, visit with family and friends, order groceries, purchase and deliver all of my Christmas gifts. I have visited with a doctor without leaving my home and attended mass at my church from my living room. I applied for a mail in ballot and then sent back my vote with stamps that I purchased without going to a post office. I have watched first run movies and Broadway plays and special performances of musicians. My world is whirring with technology and I enjoy its advantages.

Then there is the dark side of it all. The use of technology to spread lies, rumors and false information has run amok. We are continually bombarded with falsehoods and then we begin arguing with one another over their veracity. Technology is reuniting friends but it is also tearing old relationships apart. It can be bone chillingly ugly and difficult even for well adjusted adults. Our children do not have the skills they need to navigate through the muck and the mud so we have to be vigilant for them. That may mean being watchful when they are using their phones and other devices and even locking them away for certain times of the day and night. Parents have always set limits and that habit is even more important now. It’s also crucial that we demonstrate to our youth how to differentiate between good information and bad. Finally we must provide them with the tools and armor they may need if they become victims of abusive bullying. In other words we must communicate, communicate, communicate with them. 

We can’t run away from the technology boom but we can use it to our benefit and that of our children. As with anything else we have to work to prevent it from becoming a dangerous addiction. Old fashioned conversations and walks in nature are still as grand a diversion as they have ever been. Having responsibilities as part of a family builds character. Some of the old fashioned ways never go out of style or importance and they are good ways to begin balancing the lure of technology.