Author: Sharron Burnett

I vividly remember waking up on May 30, 1957. The sun was already shining brightly through the windows of my bedroom and I was excited about the family picnic that we were planning to attend on that day. As I oriented myself in those first few minutes of awakening I heard my mother talking on the phone. Her words were confusing and her voice sounded the way someone speaks when they are trying not to cry. She seemed to be providing information about someone which seemed rather strange at that time of day. Her use of the pronoun “he” and past tense verbs made me curious about her conversation. I lay quietly staring at the ceiling attempting to make sense of her conversation to no avail. 

I scampered past her and went to the kitchen planning to grab some cereal or make some toast for breakfast. I was stunned to find my Aunt Valeria puttering about as though she was attempting to stay busy but not having much success in doing so. I did not recall any other time that my aunt had come to our home so early in the morning so I became even more suspicious than I had been when I eavesdropped on my mother’s strange words. 

I wanted to be polite so I acted as though it was totally normal for my aunt to be present. I sat down at the kitchen table waiting for some kind of explanation from her. Instead she ignored me for a time while nervously seeming to be collecting her thoughts. She finally spoke to me with a solemn expression and a halting tempo as though she was on the verge of tears. 

“Sharron, God called your Daddy home last night!” was all that she said as she stood watching for my reaction. 

I was eight years old but I was bright enough to know what she meant. Nonetheless I found her comment to be so unbelievable that I challenged her with a silly remark, “God doesn’t call people on the phone. What are you talking about?”

My aunt’s face quivered as she explained much more clearly that my father had been killed in an automobile accident in the early morning hours. Then she quickly added, “I’m so sorry, honey! Your father is dead!”

Shock is a cruel emotion but I suppose that in some ways in protects us from the strong feelings that leak out slowly from the moment of learning about something that is unnatural and life changing. I simply sat frozen in my seat and said nothing more. I understood what she was telling me but I did not want to think about it at that moment. I felt a kind of fear growing inside my chest and I knew that if I began to cry I might never again be able to stop my tears. 

That whole day was a nightmare. Before long all of my aunts and uncles and my mother’s friends had congregated in our living room. They were very protective of my mother who was mostly prostrate in her bedroom. They did their best to watch over me and my brothers but in their belief that we could not possibly understand what was happening they mostly whispered to one another and encouraged us to play outside with our cousins and the neighborhood children. 

It would not be until late that evening that I ventured into my mother’s bedroom were she lay with red eyes and an expression so painful that it hurt to look at her. I climbed onto the bed and she hugged me. Without saying a word we both sobbed for what felt like hours. 

Our world had crashed around us. Our future was so uncertain. It would be months before any hint of normalcy came back to our family. Thankfully the people that we knew and loved rallied around us and did not leave. 

I later learned that newspaper accounts of my father’s wreck had made the front page of both local newspaper. It was a good story on a slow news day of a very young man who had left three children orphaned. The journalists posed many questions about how his accident had happened and suggested a number of possible reasons, none of which could be totally verified. The hints were hurtful to my mom. They insinuated that she and my father had engaged in a spat and that my father had left the house to quell his anger. The story also suggested that he may have been drinking and not totally in control of his faculties. As a result he drove straight into a ditch where many other wrecks had previously occurred because the road was not lit and it ended abruptly. 

Later a huge sign lit with bright blinking lights impossible to miss would be placed at the spot where my father descended into a dark tragedy. In later years cars would be built with seatbelts and air bags, all of which might have saved him on that night. While is was not doubt good to determine how the horrific wreck had happened somehow asking questions about it in the very moment that my mother was grieving seemed to only pour fuel on the flames of loss that she was enduring. 

I find myself thinking about the people who lost loved one in the horrific accident at the airport in Washington D.C. We will certainly want to know what caused the disaster so that we might fix the situation, but focusing on possibilities before comforting the relatives and friends of the victims seems to be ghoulishly cruel just as it was with my mother. 

There is a time and a place for all of the public talk. The people who understand such things are already looking into the possibilities. For now, however, our only thoughts should be about the loved ones whose world has broken apart as surely as that plane. Let us comfort them and help them in their hour of grief, not argue over who and what is to blame. In doing so we might turn to the example of President Ronald Reagan who so sensitively and compassionately held our nation together after the Challenger blew up only minutes after take off. His graciousness was magnificent and he understood that we would have time later to determine why things went so horribly wrong. He brought us all together and showed us how to behave in such moments. This is the hour of grief for so many. It is not the time to politicize what has happened. We all want to fix the problems but that can come later.

I am admittedly a student of liberal arts. While I have spent lifetime teaching mathematics, my true passion lies in continuing to learn about philosophy, literature, history, political science, rhetoric, music, art. I suppose that in the fanciful compartment of my brain I dreamed of myself as both a student and purveyor of the arts. I imagined becoming a writer of such great wisdom and talent that all the world would hang on to every word that I committed to paper. I considered the idea of reporting facts and truths as a journalist. I saw myself sitting on a stool, wrapped in a shawl introducing students to the glorious realm of the written world. Instead fate and a need to earn a living surprisingly turned me into a teacher of mathematics where I soon learned how to convey the lyrical beauty of numbers. 

Learning lies at the center of my personal universe. I want to explore the world through the words and experiences of others. I want to learn about ideas that might never have occurred to me. I actively seek to challenge my own thinking on a daily basis in a lifelong adventure of seeking truth. I don’t want a sugarcoated, condensed version of education leaning toward sameness. I prefer the adventure of hearing ideas that force me to question the status quo and travel down pathways that lead to new ways of seeing the world. Such adventures of the mind are glorious to me and it has been my good fortune to encounter teachers, professors and authors who continue to widen my horizons. 

I am always suspicious of the motivation of those who would instead urge me to narrow the thoughts of my mind to a singular way of thinking. Little progress has ever been made when people are denied the truth whether with regard to religion or history or politics. Burning and banning ideas simply because we do not agree with them is self limiting and dangerous. After much thought and study I may not agree with everything that I have learned but I understand that I am all the better person for expanding my knowledge and worldview. I am not ready to accept the illusion that it is dangerous to know more about topics that force me to question my own culture or ways of thinking. 

I was quite fortunate to encounter some outstanding teachers in my time before college. They introduced me to formalized debate, books discussing taboos, questions about my sacred beliefs. This journey into before unknown territory did not cause me to lose my religion or to turn against my heroes, but rather to see that there are indeed other good ways of doing things than those that I embraced mostly due to the time and place in which I have lived. I opened my eyes and accepted a lifelong willingness to study and consider and embrace the beautiful diversity of the world as it is.

I am a better person today because nobody stifled my thinking or took away my freedom to ask questions. True liberation for me has meant being able to openly learn about and discuss taboos. It meant debating the pros and cons of differing philosophies. Like Thomas Jefferson I have created a personal worldview from many years of studying the works of the greatest minds of history and the present time. My teachers and later my college professors gave me the ability to do research, to think critically, to draw conclusions, to keep my mind open to present my own points of view. It has been a gift without bounds that I treasure more than money and possessions.

In the current political atmosphere I worry when I see governments banning books, attempting to make a particular religion the centerpiece of education. I cringe when free speech is threatened by a demagogue who demands praise rather than honest rebuttal. I worry that honest investigations will be met with threats of revenge rather than being welcomed ways of shining a light on truth. We enter a dark time whenever we restrict learning and ideas and the ability to speak freely about our institutions and our leaders. History is filled with moments when despots kill ideas and often the people who purvey them as well. I don’t want that for myself or my country but I sense that the ability to openly convey personal beliefs is being threatened. 

I truly hope that our teachers and professors, journalists and authors, political figures and pundits will not be confined to a generic way of speaking, writing, behaving. We should cherish and protect our freedoms of speech and press against any forces that attempt to silence protests or differing ideas. Demanding uniformity never leads to a more democratic society nor does it help our young to find themselves. The study of ideas without restrictions leads to a more enlightened world. That should always be our goal. 

My voice is small in the grand scheme of things. I doubt that my influence will create waves but I do worry that in the current environment someone may one day attempt to silence me. I hope that does not ever come to pass.  

I’ve written about my cousins before. They have always been just a phone call away. They came when my brothers were being baptized. They came when my father died. I saw them every Friday night at my grandmother’s house when we were just kids. They came to my wedding and I went to theirs. Over the years we’ve celebrated together and cried in difficult times. As we grew older it seemed as though I mostly saw them at funerals but I have always known that I can depend on them no matter how long it has been since I have seen them. 

I suppose that I think of Canada in much the same way. They have always been just across a long border with the United States. When I was a child visiting their country was as simple as driving through a friendly checkpoint. Later I would go camping in Montana with my husband and children. There I met Canadians enjoying our national parks and introducing us to their generosity and quaint ways of speaking the same language as ours. When I took two of my grandsons to Victoria BC for a high tea at the Empress Hotel the Canadians were still as friendly and welcoming as they have always been. One of my grandsons even declared that he thought he might like to go live there one day. 

Just as with my cousins I have not always thought about Canada but I have always felt a kinship with the people there. I suppose I took for granted that my country and theirs would always be friends. When terrorists flew into the World Trade Center in New York City Canada stood staunchly by our side just as they have for so long. When fires created a hellscape in Los Angeles our Canadian friends came to help fight the flames that were destroying the city. Our two countries may not always agree on every single issue but the same can be said of me and my beloved cousins. Our relationship with Canada seemed to be beyond any petty squabble that might arise. At least that was the case until Donald Trump came along and stirred things up by insinuating that we should annex Canada to the United States as though he has the authority to take over a free nation on a whim. Then came Trump’s threat of tariffs unless he gets his way. 

I am appalled that Trump has the audacity to endanger the wonderful relationship that the United States and Canada have enjoyed for decades. His lies about a porous border can only be believed by someone who has never cared much about factual evidence. There is neither an abundance of fentanyl nor illegal immigrants crossing into the United States from our neighboring country to the north. Trump is using a hyperbolic exaggeration to justify his threats and as an American citizen I resent that he is creating a wedge between our countries that need not be there. It reeks of the kind of audacity that led Russia to invade Ukraine. With all of the real crises we face it has to be the most senseless idea to burn the bridges of our mutual goodwill. 

I hope that by the time this blog makes its debut the fences will be mended and Trump’s threats will be gone. Nonetheless I know that even if none of his blustering becomes real he has created unnecessary tension for both of our nations. It reminds me of a jealous high school girl who darts from one person to another whispering lies and riling up emotions among friends for her own pleasure. It is not presidential or even the kind of behavior I would expect from an adult. 

Sadly I suspect that the trust and respect that Canada has had for our nation for so long won’t be the same. Canadians are only too aware that Trump was chosen by a majority to lead our nation. They know that there are Americans in the United States who like his style and his ideas. They now must wonder what the people here think of them. I suspect that if and when we visit each other there will be a kind of wariness that was not there before. They will be wondering if they can trust us anymore. Once ugliness rears its head it becomes quite difficult to get feelings back to what they may have once been. The trust between us is broken

I am angry and grieving that this has come to pass. I want the Canadian people to know that I have the highest regard for them. They are wonderful people living in a beautiful country. They are the best neighbors anyone might wish to have. I am so sorry that this has happened and I will do my best to make my displeasure known and hopefully set things right again. I doubt that being diplomatic with our president will make a dent in his beliefs. Nor as some have suggested will lying in protest on railroad tracks as he barrels thoughtlessly along bring the changes that we need. I don’t yet know what will stop the insanity of it all but I live in the hopes that more and more of my fellow citizens will see the danger in just watching Trump spew his poison and vindictiveness. Surely we can use the Constitution and laws that our forefathers have given us to stop him from ruining one of the best friendships in the history of the world. I have to believe that we still have enough collective influence to set things right. 

In the meantime I send a heartfelt message of gratitude to the people of Canada for all that they have done for my country over and over again. I suppose it’s not enough to assert that I did not vote for Trump. Now I have to use my power as a free citizen to change the course of his recklessness along with the millions of other Americans who agree that we do not wish to lose the peace and friendship between our two nations. We will be working to mend the hurt.

“Everything has a way of coming back around, What seems unstoppable and inevitable never is.” — Jimmy Carter

As we embark on a new year and a new era in politics I am feeling a bit anxious as I have already indicated in several of my blogs. I don’t particularly like being a worry wart but it has always been part of my nature, spurred on mostly by unexpected events that rocked my world. 

I was a fairly happy go lucky child until the day that I awoke to learn that my father had died in a car accident. It was not something that I ever would have imagined much less fretted about and yet here was my little family locked in a kind of horror that would alter our lives in palatable ways. The old soul that had previously been locked somewhere in my DNA took center stage at that moment and I became serious and filled with a notion that I needed to take care of my mother and brothers. I altered the trajectory of my life to fulfill that obligation. 

Just when my brothers and I were entering our grown up years and I was feeling liberated from my task of watching over my younger siblings my mother showed the first signs of her bipolar disorder in all of its frightening behaviors. Suddenly I was thrown back into a caregiver roll that I never expected to so define my young adult life. I had to learn how to advocate for her and how to watch for signs that she was becoming sick again. That journey would last for more than forty years and it taught me that we can never get so comfortable with our lives that we might assume that nothing bad will happen to us. 

I suppose that my experiences have had both good and bad consequences. I had to draw on my observational and compassionate skills in dealing with my mother which also made me a much better teacher in my work life. I used my abilities to stay aware of underlying difficulties that my students might be experiencing. I understood the impact of life events on the ability to concentrate and learn. I tried to create a safe environment for my students that assisted them in balancing their school and home lives even when times were tough for them. 

I suppose that I am a person who delves more deeply into the pulse of the world around me because I know all too well that life can change in a second. I sometimes observe things that others do not see. I have taught myself to be ready for instantaneous changes that may rock my plans. I always have alternatives to steady even the worst situations, but my deliberate way of viewing the world can be exhausting. I often fantasize being able to just relax and look the other way when I see signs of trouble. Unfortunately I am an old dog and learning new tricks does not come as easily as it once did. Thus I worry, sometimes silently and sometimes with very trusted individuals. 

Right now my instincts are on high alert. I foresee much trouble in the coming months. I am not exactly sure what form they will take but the world is too uneasy for me to simply laugh away my vague fears. I wonder if another big test of my stamina and flexibility is on the horizon. Perhaps it will be quite personal or maybe it will instead involve all of the world. Maybe it will be a combination of both possibilities. 

I suppose that my greatest concern is that we as Americans remain so divided in an ugly way that I have not seen since I was a young woman in the late nineteen sixties. I wonder if we will be up the tasks that I fear will challenges us all in the coming times. Will our leaders finally be willing to work together or will we witness hardship, trauma and maybe even injury to our fellow humans? I will watch with a heightened sense that we all must be ready but I will also cling to the hope that I am just being silly and that all will be okay.

I am particularly calmed by the wisdom of Jimmy Carter. I believe that he is correct in noting that no matter what hardships my befall us we humans will correct them and return to a time when we were much more willing to work with each other. The turmoil never lasts forever. We grow weary of ugliness and offer olive branches to bring us together again when we have had enough of trouble. 

I suppose that even if the new year brings us a bit of hurt we will ultimately move beyond it. I still have faith that there is always more good in the world than bad. My life has shown me that again and again that I am right to rely on my faith in humanity and myself to find the right pathways into the future with the help of a God who urges us to remember to love.   

Life has been tumultuous for many of us during the last few years. I suppose that during such times it is easy to forget the good things that are happening rather than focusing on what appears to be wrong. Optimism often suffers when people are continually worried and most especially when those worries seem to be based on reality. It would do each of us much good to make a habit of noting something wonderful and positive in life on a regular basis and particularly when times feel the most demanding. 

I had more medical problems last year than I had encountered in all seventy six years of my life. That is the bad news but the good news is that I have brilliant doctors who have guided me to better health through it all. My blood pressure is now under control. The concerns about calcium deposits in one of my breasts were set to rest by a biopsy. My back trouble is under control and improving through a series of exercises. I may not have the energy or ability to tackle the world as easily as I once did, but I am still here and still able to get things done at a slower more deliberate pace thanks to the brilliance of caring doctors and nurses.

I had high hopes about the possibilities of our political system when Kamala Harris ran for President. She was exciting and brilliant and experienced. I naively believed that the American people would spurn Donald Trump for all of his shady and unpatriotic practices, but I was so wrong. I have been in a kind of darkness ever since his reelection and were it not for strangers who have shown me how to take defeat and turn it into a positive and hopeful movement toward the future I suspect that I would be deeply hurt and depressed. Instead I now know that there is a cadre of patriotic Americans who truly understand concepts of integrity, intelligence, compassion, and strength who are already demonstrating ways that we might one day return to a United States of America that is welcoming and fair for all. 

I have not been able to travel like I once did. I felt tied down to the responsibility of watching over my father-in-law. I actually became resentful that he was taking so much of my time and energy. I became a burned out caretaker who often dreamed of just running away. I gathered books on caretaking. I reached out to others who have experienced the same kind of situation. What I learned is that I simply just have to ask for help rather than stewing in the resentment that I now lack my freedom. I plan to travel again this year and will be able to do so because I am not going to be afraid to ask members of my family to help with some of the responsibilities that my husband and I have shouldered alone. I am also now able to speak more honestly to my father-in-law about concerns that I have heretofore stoically hidden inside my heart. I see happier times ahead for all of us now that I have a plan.

My brothers have developed many health problems in the past year. I became quite morose in worrying about them. Instead we have now promised to meet and spend time together on a regular basis. Rather being continually anxious about what may happen to them I plan to enjoy them and think about the worst case scenarios only when and if they happen. I don’t want to steal my own joy by overthinking what my future with them may be. Instead I plan to live in the here and now with them. 

As I grow older my life changes more dramatically than it once did. I attend more funerals of friends and family members. it is difficult to watch my circle of people grow smaller through such losses. At the same time there are new people entering my sphere and I plan to give more time to them. I know they will not replace those that I so loved but they will be new members of my evolving life. I know that they will fill the voids that I have been feeling.

My paternal grandfather lived a long and happy life. I think that his secret to longevity lay in his willingness to adapt all along the way. No matter what happened to him he managed to find joy even as the changes became more and more consequential. He was open to new ways of living and he always proclaimed that the good old days were all in the marvelous presence. He celebrated the goodness and ingenuity of humans while also marveling at the heroes of the past. He was a modern man who also cherished his history, even the most difficult moments. 

So here I am with the resolve to get past any difficulties that may arise by taking the time to notice what is good in my life. In doing so I suspect that I will find that my blessings far outweigh my challenges. I plan to make this a very good year.