Author: Sharron Burnett

Summer does not really come to an end in Texas until around November. I suppose that we used to begin the school year in September because none of the schools had air conditioning and it could get quite warm in those rooms even after Labor Day. We may have been more adapted to the heat because not all of the homes had the joys of cooled air. I know that my home relied on a huge attic fan until around nineteen sixty-eight. 

Back when I was young those of us who were kids lived outside on those steamy days. The girls wore shorts and crop tops and the boys generally went without shirts. All of us ran around in our bare feet and by the end of the day those feet would be quite dirty so our mother sometimes hosed us down before ushering us back inside the house. We actually loved it when our entire bodies got wet and the grime on our necks called “Grandma’s beads” would wash away in one glorious moment. 

I suppose that people today would be stunned by how much freedom we had as children. There were times when we would get on our bikes and ride to the woods that still stood in the area. There we would build forts and ride on a handmade swing that hurled us back and forth over the bayou. When I read the tales of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn I totally identify with the characters. My summers in the south were filled with the same kind of adventures that they had. 

My family lived on what seemed like a very long street in those days. Whenever I go back to see our house the block feels much shorter than it did back then. There were other children in virtually every single home. Our particular stree was heavy on the boys but that didn’t seem to matter. I would join in the street games and the competitions held on the lawns. It’s a wonder that more of us did not end up with broken bones as we hurled each other into strange poses while enjoying Swing the Statue, and charged past locked arms in our competitions of Red Rover. 

For fun we sometimes created shows just like in the movies and even had a neighborhood newspaper that I carefully wrote, edited and illustrated. I charged five cents for each handwritten copy and the kind mothers never balked at paying me for my efforts. Our shows were no doubt too much like an amateur hour but we imagined that one day our talents would be discovered and we would become bonafide stars.

Now and again I sat on the hot concrete with girls from the neighborhood playing with our dolls. During that time I dreamed of one day sharing an apartment with them in New York City while we jetted around the world as airline stewardesses. I envisioned us as interior decorators as well because we managed to use boxes and scrap cloth to create furniture for our dolls. We marveled at our creativity.

Life may have been hot but it felt so good. I suppose that is one of the joys of childhood. I look back on those years with great feelings. I lived in a little cocoon where everyone and everything seemed safe. Sadly it probably was not as idyllic as I thought because harsh things were happening to the adults, but when you are a child you tend to ignore such things unless they involve you personally.

When we got a bit older my mother hosted card parties for us in our kitchen. She made pimento cheese sandwiches and lemonade that were to die for. Only well behaved kids were allowed into our inner sanctum and they did their best to be both polite and grateful so that they would not be driven back out in the hot sun because of bad manners. 

I eventually graduated to being ushered in for Mrs. Janot’s daily viewing of General Hospital. Winning the lottery would not have been better because her invitation included air conditioning and watermelon as long as I did not talk or get silly during the program. I got hooked on that series for many years afterward but eventually the day came when I had to go to work in the summertime to earn funds for things like a school trips and my class ring. Once I was employed I felt as though the innocence of those days were gone.

Things started to change so rapidly that I now take my cool home for granted and I spend most of my summers only looking out the window rather than daring to get active in the heat. I don’t see any of the children in our neighborhood. It is too hot for them. They will not return outside until the temperature falls. I suspect that they are meeting up with each other inside homes and I miss their laughter and their antics. 

My childhood sometime seems like a dream. I no longer have the stamina to stay in the heat of August anymore. I feel for teachers and kids who start school in the middle of the month that was once the final push to grab every bit of freedom that we had. 

I know that I have idealized my youth and the joys of playing outside for hours with bare feet and arms and legs. I’ve seen folks my age with severe skin cancers and I wonder if all that time in the sun has caused them problems in the present. I know that times have changed and today’s children seem to still be enjoying life as much as I did. I doubt that they would last long if we tossed them outside and suggested that they find ways to have fun while sweltering in the ever more common heat. Still, I would not give up the memories of those days for anything. They were surely grand. We had so much fun in the sun.

When I travelled to New York City with my daughters this summer I essentially went along for the ride. I let them decide where we would stay, what we would eat and how we would spend our time. They did a lovely job of finding a great hotel that did not cost an arm and a leg even on the July Fourth weekend. They found unique restaurants representing a diversity of cultures. They chose wonderful sightseeing venues that hit the spot. Among them was attending a performance of the musical Cabaret.

I have to admit that I was a bit worried about seeing an update of that iconic musical. My first thought was that it would be impossible to enjoy the show without the incredible talent of Joel Grey and Liza Minelli. Their performances set the standard for the major roles and I worried that I would be comparing those in such a way that I would never be able to truly enjoy the efforts of the new cast. Happily I was wrong. 

The director of the musical was brilliant in updating the characters so that they were new and fresh and nothing like the originals. The Master of Ceremonies at the Kit Kat Club was his own man, not a imitation of Joel Grey, with a voice that was haunting. Sally Bowles was a very English girl with a seemingly cheery outlook on life that was tainted by her longing for money and success. The Jewish love story was about an older couple portrayed by actors with a sterling professionalism that elevated the importance of their tragedy. In the background was the fascism that would ultimately dominate the lives of everyone. 

The theater itself became the Kit Kat Club from the time that we entered. There was jazz music playing and performers danced, did acrobatics and performed magic as we took our seats. The audience became part of the scenery as they sat at tables encircling the round stage. The orchestra was as important for the story as the actors, and what a story it was. 

The atmosphere in the theater was tense from the beginning and became even more so as the lighting eventually dimmed into almost darkness. The lines seemed to echo today’s headlines and we felt as though we were witnessing the downfall of humanity in real time. There were moments when we felt a chill and goosebumps rose up on our skin. By the end we were sobbing both for the characters and for the world as portrayed. Somehow that world felt closer to us thab we wanted to think. The play became a parable of life and a warning of how darkness might descend upon us if we are not constantly aware of reality. 

We were all moved by this musical and had the kind of feeling that happens only when you have seen something quite brilliant. We talked about what we had viewed for days afterward. We saw the universality of the themes, the poetry of the songs, the incredible talent of the actors. It was a tour de force that will live in our minds forever. We somehow keep circling back to the feelings and thoughts that we had inside that theater.

The two versions of Cabaret that I have seen were both excellent in their own right. Minnellii and Grey stole the show in the original while the production and the sense of horror that has the power to destroy people’s lives became the centerpiece of the newest version. The characters were pawns in a game of life, losing on all counts while the Master of Ceremonies bended his knee to the Nazis and became the evil itself. 

There is much happening in the United States right now that eerily feels like the stealthy takeover of Germany. We are watching forces in real time that are literally pledging to tear down our institutions so that they may rebuild them in their desired form, They seem to want to create a new way of doing things without the agreement of all Americans.

I have watched what is taking place with as much horror as I felt watching the latest Broadway presentation of Cabaret. I see masked men stalking immigrants and taking them away without so much as a trial to determine their actual status. I see agencies being dismantled without thought about what will be lost when they are gone. I see the poorest among us being shamed and losing programs that had been safety nets for them. I see a president who thinks himself immune to worrying about whether or not his actions are actually legal. I see a darkness of cruelty moving over my country that once felt like a shining example of democracy and generosity. All the while we citizens are being fed a diet of bread and the distractions of a circus so that we will not realize what is really happening until it is too late. 

I’m glad that I had the privilege of seeing Cabaret on the weekend of the celebration of our American independence. We would all do well to pay attention and ignore the attempts to fool us. If we do not pay attention our cabaret will become a nightmare. 

As I was browsing my Facebook page recently I saw these words, “Everyone has a story worth telling.” It struck me that I enjoy writing about people I have known or admired more than any other topic. I often find myself thinking about ordinary folks who are actually quite extraordinary and I do my best work when I choose to tell their stories. 

When I first began my journey through college I had a scholarship that paid for my tuition and books but I was a commuter student who had no transportation to the university. Initially I paid a person to get me there each morning. I gave her enough to purchase gasoline each week which was a fair price, but I had limited funds so I did the math and realized that I would never be able to buy anything more than that ride with what I had saved from working during the summer. That meant that I could not even afford a drink or lunch or any other such luxury or I would run out of money before the end of the school year. 

I casually mentioned my dilemma to a couple of my friends, Linda and Nancy, who were also attending the school and soon enough both of them had graciously offered to get me to school and back home at no cost. It was one of the most generous gifts that I have ever received. I was able to breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I would not reach a point of being unable to get to the campus and now and again I was even able to purchase a snack or even a burger to stave off hunger until I got back home. I was admittedly silly in that I had been embarrassed by my situation but these two insisted that it would be their pleasure to help me. 

Linda and Nancy have both been lifelong friends who accept me just the way I am even though we do not always see the world eye to eye. They are incredibly wonderful people who have accompanied me on my long journey of life. Linda and I raised our children together and I don’t know how she felt about my daughters but I sometimes dreamed of them marrying her sons. That did not work out because our children were so close that they felt more like siblings than romantic partners.

I don’t think I would have made it through my twenties, thirties and forties without Linda. She has always been wise and kind and I learned much from her. She was also a wonderful sounding board with whom I was able to share my innermost dreams, doubts, and failures. I never felt as though I had to hide my true self from her like I sometimes did with others. Ours has been a wonderful friendship that has been as close to being sisters as two women might be without being actually being related to each other. 

Nancy and I played cards with a group of ladies long after I was married. She worked for a time in Houston but eventually moved to Atlanta, Georgia. A long period of time passed during which we had little or no contact. Then she decided to return to Houston and we began talking for hours on the phone as though we had always been together. We can laugh and carry on for so long that our cell phones die while we are still conversing. The love we have between the two of us is incredible and ours is a very accepting relationship. She can be herself and so can I. Nothing comes between us even when I get a bit silly. 

Having two lifelong friends like Linda and Nancy is priceless and I always know that no matter how long it has been since we have been together we always pick up right where we left off. I am fortunate enough to understand that I can be challenging at times because my personality is such that I all too often play devil’s advocate as I attempt to navigate through the difficulties of life. Luckily for me neither of these amazing women get insulted when I start asking them questions or disagreeing with their opinions. There does not seem to be anything that will ever tear us apart and I give most of the credit for that to them because sometimes I don’t let up on voicing how I feel. 

In today’s world so many relationships have fallen apart over petty disagreements. I read about families that have been rent in two and childhood friendships that have gone awry. I’ve only experienced that kind of thing once and the hurt from it still stings even as I love the person who no longer wants my friendship. I suppose I know myself well enough to understand how difficult I can sometimes be when I take hold of a particular way of thinking. With Linda and Nancy my foibles don’t seem to matter and I celebrate that fact every single day. 

I knew Linda in elementary school and admired her from afar. I thought that she was the most beautiful and loving person I had ever encountered. When we became friends I was deeply honored. Nancy and I met in high school and we clicked from the first. I can laugh and cry and totally enjoy every chance meeting that I have with these two wonderful women. They are a gift to me that I will never take for granted. Their amazing stories would fill a book. Perhaps I may take the time to write it all down one day. Till then I just want them to know how important they are to me and how much I will always love them.

Do your little bit of good where you are. It’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world. — Desmond Tutu

When I think back on my life I recall moments when it seemed as if the whole world was busy doing little bits of good. One of those times was in the immediate aftermath of the destruction of the Twin Towers in New York City. There was certainly a kind of nationwide sorrow and grieving in the United States, but at the same time people from everywhere made kind gestures to express their support. There were school children who wrote letters to the people of the city of New York and to the families who lost loved ones. Folks came from far and wide to help with the cleanup. Donations poured in. On the local front citizens of towns and neighborhoods pitched in the help each other. I often remember how my neighbors helped me clear debris from trees that fell down without even being asked. They saw me lugging bundles of sticks to the curb and silently joined in until the work was done. They asked for nothing in return but of course I understood my moral duty to be ready to do good for them.

The same kind of thing happened when Hurricane Harvey ravaged the city of Houston with historic floods. The Cajun Navy came with rescue boats. People used their fishing craft to bring people out of inundated neighborhoods. Food, water, and  household necessities arrived by the truckload. A group of celebrities from Los Angeles even held a telethon. When it came time to clean out the mud and muck that laid ruin to homes, complete strangers came in droves to work in ninety degree heat taking down soggy sheetrock and water soaked carpet. Schools received bundles of supplies to replace the once that were ruined in the rising water. It felt as though our city would make it back to normal with all of the love showered on us.

For a time the whole world rallied around the medical communities guiding us through the Covid 19 pandemic. Parades of cars drove through medical centers with signs signifying gratitude for the doctors and nurses. People rose to the occasion with videos of dancing and singing and music that lifted our spirits. Individuals delivered food to those who had to stay home. In most cases people wore their masks without too much complaint. It was wonderful while it lasted but it did not always stay that way. Once the whole virus and the way it was being handled was politicized a yawning gap opened up between people that has only grown wider and uglier over time.

I love it whenever people set aside their differences and come together for anyone who needs help. I revel in the idea of simply doing the right thing at the right time without judgement or irritation. We are at our best as people when we don’t take notice of race, religion, culture or sexual preferences in offering our little bits of good. We have more often than not understood that there are times when we must offer our time, our talents and our treasure to help those in need no matter who they are or where they may be. Such generosity has been a hallmark of my city and state and country for all of my life but somehow now I hear too many grinching that we should only have to take care of our own. Some seem to believe that it is not up to us to be the saviors of the entire world. They claim that we have enough to do in our own backyards and need not be concerned with the difficulties of strangers. 

I still believe that people are mostly good and that they will help those in need without questions. I live on a wonderful cul-de-sac in which we celebrate each other regularly. I know nothing about the political views of my neighbors but I do know that when a hurricane came through last summer we helped each other. I know that we check on each other, do little bits of good for each other. We have a blast on Halloween night handing out candy to kids who seem to come to our street from everywhere. We make cookies and goodies for each other at Christmastime. We don’t discuss our religious beliefs or worry about the color of each other’s skin or sexual preferences. We live in blissful harmony the way it should always be. 

I have grown weary of the constant bickering that is stirred up by our president. I dislike the idea of choosing one political power or way of thinking over another. This nation was built oncompromise. George Washington did not even want political parties. He feared what the concept might do to the freedoms of whichever group was not voted into office. He did not believe in the idea of pushing through legislation that did not consider all of the people. He hoped for a president who would be humble and wise and be open to differing ideas. He was adamant about  keeping clear divisions between the legislature, the Supreme Court and the executive branch. He envisioned a nation of people working for the common good of all citizens in pursuit of the ideals of the democratic republic. Such a government is dependent on little bits of good here and there coming together to make a difference in the world. 

I hope that we will get over our tendency as a voting public to elect people who are so one sided that they take delight in crushing those who do not walk in tandem with him. I long for a leader who will daily demonstrate a dedication to being good to everyone. We’ve had that before. Perhaps we will get sick enough of the chaos that is exhausting us and become a nation of generosity for everyone once again. 

The nineteen forty four movie Gaslight has become a kind of metaphor for our current times. The film starring Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer is a journey into mental abuse using lies and psychological manipulation that cause a person to question his or her own sanity. In the story Ms. Bergman’s character begins seeing and hearing things that her husband insists are not happening. He suggests that she is not well and so she becomes more and more isolated until she struggles to determine what is real and what is not. The term gaslighting as it means today originated in the horror and abuse portrayed in that classic film.

So how can we detect when someone is gaslighting us and why would anyone want do such a thing? According to Prevention magazine there are six signs that something is amiss with the way a person or group of people are treating us. 1) The gaslighter tends to minimize actual feelings that people have. 2) He takes no responsibility for anything bad that is happening. 3) He lies so constantly that it becomes impossible to differentiate between reality and fraud. 4) When called out for his actions he denies any culpability and describes what has happened in a totally different way than others recall. 5) He often refers to those who express doubts about him as crazy, overly sensitive, overly dramatic, or paranoid. He creates an aura of self doubt in which up becomes down and down becomes up. 6) He is hyper defensive when he is questioned.

A masterful gaslighter finds joy in alienating people so that they soon find themselves withdrawing from each other. He gets excited whenever people choose him over friends and family. He insists that he is the only one who sees things the way that are while those who disagree with him see things in a totally inaccurate way. He accuses his doubters of being the bad persons, the actual manipulators. In fact he often describes his own thinking and actions as being the purview of anyone who points out his lies.

The accomplished gaslighter keeps the pressure on his victims until they are no longer believed. He turns the tables pretending to be the hero while destroying the person who is actually his victim. In a worst case scenario the person he is gaslighting becomes anxious and depressed. He increases the gaslighting to a point at which his targets are no longer able to handle the situation. They shutdown and avoid confrontation hoping that things will miraculously work out. Sometimes they even bow to his demands and lose all sense of self. 

If any of this sounds familiar to you then you must be like me in believing that Donald Trump has been relentlessly gaslighting our nation and the entire world for many years now. He is a fast talker who says whatever makes him look good whether or not it is true. More often than not his utterances are totally off the wall but if someone attempts to debate him he uses bullying tactics to shut them down. He has managed to make even other powerful people and institutions afraid of him. They cower in his presence often bowing to his demands for money or support. He has made our nation so sick that those of us who believe that we see through his web of lies often question ourselves when nobody seems willing to stop him. We wonder why good people that we know support him and many of his cruel demands. How is it possible that we are so wrong and why do we even question ourselves? Is it because we are all beaten down by this master manipulator?

I have done my best to stay abreast of the truth. It literally takes hours of my time each day to research every single thing that Trump says or does. He throws so much at as so quickly that it has become exhausting. There is a temptation to simply give up and just look away in the hopes that one day this will pass. The problem with that kind of attitude is that it denies us the opportunity to confront his abuse of every single person in the United States and in much of the world. The only way to deal with a gaslighter is to keep insisting on the truth every single time he tries to hide reality. 

Nonetheless I feel myself becoming more and more anxious, more and more depressed with the entire situation that is unfolding on a daily basis. I know that if I don’t engage in some self care that I will crack. I find solace in talking with others who have seen the truth and who are willing to stand up for what they believe is right. I helps me to know that I am not the crazy one. I am not the naive one. I do understand the danger of letting Trump run roughshod over our Constitution. I can’t simply accept his lawlessness so I join others who reassure me that I have not lost my mind.

My only hope is that one day the entire world will be willing to admit that Trump is dangerous and that each of has is wise is fearing what his power trip will bring to us. It will only be when something finally happens to alert the vast majority of Americans that he has been playing us that resolution will finally take place and we will be saved from his attempts to damage us. I just hope that it isn’t already too late for that to happen.