Author: Sharron Burnett

At the end of my junior year of high school I decided to run for Student Body Secretary. I doubted that I had much of a shot at winning because I was running against two of the most popular girls on campus. Nonetheless, I threw myself into the campaign process with the same abandon that I applied to everything I did. I made posters to hang all over the school, polished the speech that I would have to make to the entire student gathering, and created materials to hand to the students to let them know I was a contestant. It was a fun process that pulled me out of my shyness and taught me that taking risks was a good exercise.

One morning I was standing at the school entrance greeting students as they arrived and asking them to consider voting for me. I was a nervous wreck at first but I got better and better with each person who politely returned my smile even if they had no intention of voting for me. The tardy bell had rung and I was picking up my campaign materials when a straggler suddenly strode through the door. I grinned, held out my hand and gave him one of my flyers. His response was to stare at me with disdain, tear my offering into tiny pieces and toss them on the floor like confetti. Then he turned to me and said, “Nobody is going to vote for you. Nobody likes you. Save yourself the embarrassment.” 

I was stunned by his anger but I remained calm, saying nothing in response. Once he had left I quietly picked up the pieces of paper on the floor wondering what might make someone feel the need to be so hurtful. I knew that what he had said was not true, but I was a bit shaken nonetheless. My confidence definitely took a silent hit that returned on the day I had to deliver my speech. I remember having to grip the podium where I stood because my legs became rubbery as I looked out on the sea of faces that I was addressing. I don’t know if my voice was as shaky as it seemed to be in my own ears but I somehow managed to say my piece and hurry back to my seat relatively unscathed. 

I did not win the election but I had never really thought that I would. I was mostly proud of myself for pushing past my fears and trying something that was outside of my comfort zone. I was also quite happy that I had been able to mostly ignore the student who had been so despicable to me. Nonetheless, I thought of him often even after I had graduated from high school, not because he had somehow wormed his way into my psyche but because I worried about him. It seemed to me that someone with such a dark heart might have a difficult time forming loving relationships in life. I wondered what kind of abuse had made him feel the need to be so vile. I had always felt so much love in my life and it seemed to me that someone like him might have been lacking in the kind of affection that had helped me to grow into a happy person.

I eventually learned that my fellow student had died rather young, apparently in a car accident. I did not really know him, nor had I followed his progress after graduation but somehow I felt a profound sadness for him. I realized that he had needed to be a cruel bully to feel superior to me and it occurred to me that someone had taught him to be that way. 

Our children do indeed learn from what they see us do and hear us say. My husband has always encouraged my independent spirit. He has not felt challenged by my quest for knowledge and learning. I have a competitive spirit that he supports. Somehow he is so very different from the young man who wanted to terrorize me. I know that it is because my husband’s family dynamic was grounded in love and respect that he saw every single day as a child. 

My mother-in-law was indeed one of the most brilliant individuals that I have ever met. She was a woman of unwavering strength. My father-in-law was and still is the consummate gentleman. He cherished and cultivated my mother-in-law’s intellect and free spirit. My husband saw these things and so it became second nature to him to value both women and men without self righteous judgement. His parents were kind to him and to each other and so he is kind to everyone. 

If children witness abuse in the form of words or fists they often begin to emulate such behaviors themselves. Some manage to escape and change, but far too many continue the ugly cycle of bullying. From one generation to the next it becomes an acceptable way of life and may even be viewed as a sign of strength. They push their way through life with intimidation and fear. They may even seem to be successful and happy but that is rarely the truth.

Teach your children how to be kind. It begins with how everyone is treated inside your home. How you behave is more important than what you say. If you not only accept, overlook and admire someone who is vile in the treatment of others, you send the message to your children that the pathway to success is found in power, rather than in respect. Be careful that you are not robbing your children of the gift of confidence that comes from healthy relationships. Teach your children well. 

I have little doubt that mostly everyone in our nation is exhausted, some more so than others. In between the pandemic and the vitriol of the recent election our emotions are frayed. We need a moment of rest, a brief time to heal mentally. Sadly the very man whose influence might best reassure us and provide us with respite from the anxiety has so far been unwilling to graciously accept the reality of his defeat just as men and women have done from the beginning of our democratic republic. 

While the results of the election demonstrate just how divided we are, the process has been fair and no amount of recounting is likely to change the outcome. We must begin to heal. That is the imperative for all of us if our country is to survive and thrive. Healing means loving our country and its people more than personal or party ambition. It means urging all of us to turn to our neighbors and work together to do the hard lifting that lies ahead. 

One of the most interesting American political stories involved Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, two of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, men who had very different ideas of how best to build a new nation but who had mostly admired one another until the poison of politics stressed their friendship. Eventually they ran against each other for President. It was a hard fought race filled with venom and accusations. Jefferson was victorious but Adams’ bitterness was so intense that for many years the two of them would neither acknowledge nor speak to one another. 

Theirs was a feud that seemed unlikely to end until Adams held out an olive branch suggesting that they had both always wanted what was best for the fledgling country. He came to see that their mutual love of the nation was far stronger than their differences so he sent a conciliatory letter to Thomas Jefferson and the two men began a correspondence that would last for the remainder of their lives. Not only were they able to discuss their dreams for the nation that they had helped to establish but they became the best of friends. Ironically both of them died on July 4, 1826. Adams last words were “Jefferson still survives” not knowing that Jefferson had actually died five hours earlier.

We have real issues to face, important battles ahead. We need our President to be conciliatory. We need for him to hold out an olive branch for all of us. We all must acknowledge the results of the election and begin the process of transition and President Trump can help us to do so. Presidents traditionally do these things for the preservation of the systems created by men like John Adams and Thomas Jefferson who believed that power should lie with the people, not a king or a dictator. We speak with our votes and then our leaders concede to our voices.

President Jimmy Carter transformed defeat into public service for those struggling to find a safe place in which to live. President George H.W. Bush was heartbroken when he was defeated by Bill Clinton but he too became a model of graciously accepting loss. Eventually he and President Clinton would join forces to remedy the devastation of hurricane Katrina. Their partnership resulted in a deep and respectful friendship. In fact when our former Presidents gather together we see that they are united in the work they have done for the nation. They set aside their partisanship for the good of the people and learn to respect one another just as Adams and Jefferson did.

We are watching, President Trump. We need for you to honor our country and its traditions. We long to see moral courage from you. We need to know that you love all of the people, not just the ones who voted for you. We are exhausted and anxious. Please end your days as our leader with dignity. Model the behavior of the best of our leaders. Ease our fears. 

I know that President Trump is beloved by much of the country. I understand the disappointment in his defeat. I have been in those very same shoes a number of times. It is difficult to concede after a hard fought and contentious battle but it is what a truly good leader does in the United States of America. 

The winter months ahead will most surely be difficult. President Trump will retain the reins of power until almost the end of January. There will be many issues that he must address during that time. I pray that he will not let us down by sulking and continuing to chafe over his loss. I hope that he will not keep spreading seeds of distrust among his supporters that will only have the effect of further dividing and weakening our country. I want him to be a man who graciously spends his final days in office doing whatever it takes to bind our wounds and keep us as safe as possible from any form of harm. 

President Trump may stand in front of thousands of flags flaunting his patriotism but such gestures are  meaningless if he tears down our most precious freedom, our right to vote. The voice of the people must be heard. There has been no theft of votes, no fraud so large that it has stolen the election, but right now President Trump is the one appearing to be in the process of mounting a coup. He needs to stop the ridiculousness right now. This is not who we are as a nation. We are a democratic republic and while many may not believe that the best man won, he is still the person with the most popular and electoral votes.

Please, President Trump, acknowledge Joe Biden and ask us all to work with him, not for selfish reasons, but because we all love our country. If you do not destroy the legacy of our election process you will not destroy your own place in history. Be a true American and show your love of country.

Our world is hurting. Our nation is hurting. Our people are hurting. Humanity is weary and anxious. We are many different cultures with different concerns but for one moment in time the specter of Covid-19 unites us in the realization that a virus has the power to upend us with the force of an army. It has no special regard for prime ministers or presidents. Any of us might succumb to its invasive determination to use our bodies for its own survival. Covid-19 has changed the way we do things, changing our routines and traditions and threatening our sense of freedom and control. It has left us divided and angry, spilling over into our workplaces, schools and even houses of worship. 

We are tense and argumentative with one another. We want to control our destinies but we disagree on how that should be done. Only hindsight will prove beyond a doubt who among us has had the right answers and who has been very wrong. For now we use our reasoning and our emotions to decide how to protect ourselves and our loved ones from harm, and some of us even argue that our concerns about Covid-19 are ridiculously overblown. They insist that if we simply ignore the virus, take our chances, we are more likely to become universally immune. 

We cling to scientific data or stories that seem more like superstition. Our reactions spill over into how we want to be led, what we are willing to personally do to stall the spread of the disease. While we may attempt to simply carry on as usual from day to day Covid-19 is always lurking in the background. Just as we become more relaxed we hear of an uptick in cases near us or learn of a friend or family member who is fighting for life in the hospital. All the while our emotions are tested again and again. Our disagreements become feuds, our feuds lead to disruptions of once treasured relationships. All the while we pretend that we are okay even as we know with certainty that we are not.

Our young see this and because we are attempting to shelter them we sweep our fears aside. We think that being as normal as possible will reassure them until we learn, often by accident, just how anxious they actually are. We find that they need to talk. They need to express the sadness that is washing over them, the sorrow that they do not understand, the oppressive feeling that somehow we will never be the same again.

I am retired from teaching, and yet I am not. I have been unable to fully walk away from educating the young. I am unable to endure the rigors of the sixteen hour days that most full time teachers experience, but I enjoy having interactions with students for a few hours each week. There are ten young men and women with whom I interact on a regular basis. Sometimes the most learning occurs not in an hour long lesson about mathematics but in a five minute discussion of feelings. Almost always such conversations lead to revelations about their fears and for now those fears center on the uncertainties created by Covid-19. 

If we have no other reason to work together to address this pandemic it should lie in our desire to protect our children. While the virus itself has thankfully had a somewhat minimal impact on the physical health of our young, it has profoundly affected their mental health. Whether they continue to learn remotely or have returned to a face to face encounter with their teachers and their peers they are feeling the tension and divisiveness that is ripping through the adult world. In the worst case scenarios it is causing them to break down mentally, and their depression presents itself in many different ways. It is not always obvious that a young person is in the depths of darkness. Sometimes the only clues are falling grades or temper tantrums or risky behaviors. 

It is important that we have very honest conversations with the children. We have to do more than just take their temperatures each day. We should be allowing them to voice their concerns with impunity. We should be willing to find counseling for them if their sorrow is extreme. Sometimes just talking with a professional makes all the difference. At the same time we must be aware that all of our anger toward one another is only adding fuel to the fires of confusion that are haunting the youngest among us. We ourselves must admit that we have become a nation in the throes of depression, a world filled with more questions than answers. Ignoring the realities around us is infecting our minds in troubling ways. 

Our children need to feel secure. They need to see us respecting and embracing one another, not constantly quibbling. We must demonstrate that we are caring people whose only goal right now is to work in a spirit of love and cooperation to ensure the safety of everyone. As adults it’s time to set aside our differences and step up to our responsibilities. This should not be a game or a contest of wills. It should not focus on winning and losing. Our children are hurting and the cure will only be found in working with one another. We all need to heal.

Long ago there were two wonderful nuns, Sister Justin and Sister Rita, who ran the religious education program at St. Frances Cabrini Catholic Church. Everyone in the community loved and admired them for their dedication to teaching the children and their unwavering love of God. They convinced me to teach a kindergarten class on Wednesday afternoons and that little bit of volunteer work literally changed my life. 

I did not feel that I was particularly good at planning and executing the lessons but Justin and Rita assured me that I was doing a very fine job. I, on the other hand, can recount with laughter all of the mistakes that I made. There came a time when Justin asked me to allow a woman to join me each week as an aide, so even though I did not know her I reasoned that a little bit of assistance might bring a bit of order to the chaos of teaching twenty wiggly five year olds about Jesus. I soon learned that my new partner was named Pat Weimer, never suspecting that she would ultimately become one of my dearest friends. 

Before long Sister Justin and Sister Rita announced that they were going back home to live in the Beaumont area where they had spent their youth. All of us in the parish were devastated to learn that they would be leaving and wondered how anyone would possibly have the talent and joyful energy to replace them. When they called me and requested that I meet them at their home I assumed it would be to ask me to renew my commitment to teach the kindergartners in the coming school year. I was stunned when they urged me to accept a position as Director of Religious Education for students in preschool through grade five. It was such an unexpected development that I found myself stuttering my agreement to their offer even as I mentally began laughing at the absurdity of the idea that I should be the first layperson to ever hold that position in the parish.

Justin and Rita were masterful at selling an idea and before long they were introducing me to my intermediate and high school counterpart, Shirley Hines. I had not before met Shirley but I took an immediate liking to her and began to believe that with her at my side I might actually be capable of doing well with such an important job. She was funny and energetic but also organized and wise. I saw myself as her junior partner, someone who might learn from her and follow her example, so I tentatively began to believe that I might actually be able to do a good job for the children of the parish. 

The two of us began to call ourselves Laverne and Shirley. We literally laughed ourselves through the early days of our adventure. Of course the parishioners were not so sure that two lay people would ever be able to meet the high standards that had been set by Justin and Rita. Of course they were right in that assessment but it had become apparent throughout the Catholic world that the days of having a fleet of nuns ready to take on the jobs of educating children were long gone. Lay people would have to take on those roles whether or not the members of the church community liked it. 

Shirley and I were fortunate to have two lovely women who assisted us in carrying out our mission. Judy Maskel was our secretary and Girl Friday, always deftly caring for our every need. Judy Millin was our saving grace on the business end of things, keeping us within budget and managing the accounts associated with the program. The four of us built a friendship that would last for decades and that kept us sane as we carried out our day to day work. 

I eventually left to begin teaching full time once both of my girls were in school. I had learned a great deal in the school of hard knocks from my foray into being a Director of Religious Education. Shirley and I had been called “agents of the devil” for daring to replace Justin and Rita. The two of us blazed a trail from which our parish never turned back. At the time we made about five thousand dollars a year even though we worked more than forty hours a week. Going into a classroom as a full time teacher would quadruple my salary instantly and allow me to be at home with my family in the evenings instead of almost living at the church. While I knew I would miss my dear friends at the church I knew it was time for me to move on just as Justin and Rita had done. 

I recommended that my friend Pat take over as my replacement and she would prove to be a very worthy choice. She would spend decades refining, expanding and improving the program at the church while I made my way as a teacher and administrator in public schools. All the while Shirley, the two Judys and Pat and I continued the friendship that we had forged in those pioneering days of taking on jobs that had once been the domain of nuns. Year after year we met for lunch or at gatherings in our homes and kept the fires of friendship burning brightly. 

Pat died over twelve years ago. Judy Maskel followed her to heaven later. Shirley Hines and Judy Millan and I last met just before Christmas of 2019. We laughed and felt as close as ever. Not long into the new year of 2020 Shirley had a stroke. She now lives in a rehabilitation home and because of Covid-19 we only see her in the photos that her daughter posts. There is a sadness in knowing that she is not making the jams and bread that she always brought to us. Somehow the mischievous glimmer in her eyes that always brightened our days is missing. We long for a time when we might once again be allowed to just sit with her and recall our decades of friendship that began in such an unexpected way. 

It is so often that the serendipitous moments of life are the ones that change us the most. Stay open to unexpected changes. They may bring the very people that you need into your life. Miracles are not always spectacular but instead they often quietly lead us to the joy that we seek. I learned that truth long ago and I know how much better my life has been because two ladies named Justin and Rita convinced me to try something that changed me forever.