Category: Aging

Take Them Off

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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Don’t you just love all of those studies that claim to have discovered something new and exciting? One that I saw recently somehow found that children who run around in their bare feet tend to have higher IQs. Of course the article that described the announcement gave very few details about why that is so and there was no mention of how the experiments or interviews or whatever they used were actually done. Still it is an intriguing idea to think that just tossing shoes aside has the power to transform the brain. Yet another study claims that children who are encouraged to freely explore the environment without shoes will ultimately become more independent. The idea is that they have to be inventive and observant if they are left to rely on their own instincts rather than being hemmed in by adult supervision.

I have to laugh when I hear of such research. Based on these ideas the people with whom I grew up and I should be geniuses. I mean we only wore our shoes to school and church. The rest of the time we let our toes hang out and get dirty from contact with all sorts of things. We were like children raised by wolves as we ran through the woods near our neighborhood finding all sorts of fun that was only limited by our imaginations. There was never a parent around, just us kids, and it was glorious.

We were always doing something wonderful on our street. Sometimes we played for hours on someone’s lawn in very competitive games of Red Rover. I don’t believe that anyone ever broke a bone or had an injury and yet we were so committed to winning that we were rather rough. There were also games of football which did once result in a terrible injury to my brother when he stepped on a broken bottle that had been thrown in the the high grass of a neighbor’s yard. His Achille’s tendon was severed and he might have bled out had our mom not been very well read on how to apply pressure to a wound. After a few stitches he was fine.

One time we got a bit of help from one of the fathers when we created a dugout clubhouse. It was cool place to be on hot summer days and only certain kids were allowed inside. Sadly my mom become worried that it might cave in and bury us alive so we were restricted from entering it ever again. My brothers and I felt a great sense of sadness every time we saw other kids entering the cavelike domain. Eventually more and more moms sided with our parent and the father who had helped to created the place filled the big hole with dirt. Still we had great memories from the short time that we had enjoyed living like pioneers.

My very science oriented brother discovered that if we aimed a magnifying glass toward the hot sun it would burn wood. After that we became world class wood burners, creating intricate designs and using up tons of time as we sat on the hot concrete of the driveway holding the glass just right so that it would make a mark that decorated the wood. We were the hit of the neighborhood with our invention and we burned away until the repetitions suddenly became boring.

There was never a tree that we didn’t attempt to climb. It was glorious sitting high above the landscape sheltered by the branches. A really good tree would have growth that allowed us to lean back and read a book away from the the hubbub down below. My very favorite oak seemed to have been made just for my climbing pleasure and I often went there to meditate and feel the cool breeze blowing over me the leaves that rustled around me. 

All the while that we did such things we were shoeless. Our soles became hard and tough, able to withstand the pokes of gravel and the heat of asphalt. The tops of our feet turned brown from the sun and carried all of the colors from the places we had been. The grocer who had a tiny store down the street never seemed to mind when we entered his premises with our grungy feet flapping down the aisles. As long as we were polite and didn’t bother anything he was even okay if we just browsed or perused the new issues of comic books. I suspect that he knew that sometimes we just used his store to cool down a bit after a race or when the temperature was threatening to reach the one hundred mark.

At the end of each day Mama sometimes hosed down our feet before we entered the house even though we would quickly be shooed to the bathroom to take a cooling bath before going to bed. I must admit that I miss those days when there were seemingly no restrictions on what we might do as long as it was legal and didn’t harm anyone. Since retiring I wear shoes less and less. Now my feet rebel a bit when I stuff them inside the leather of my pumps. They much prefer the freedom of sandals or flip flops.

I tend to believe that the studies that I encountered have some merit. I know in my own case that running a bit wild was adventurous and taught me how to create and get along with my peers. I literally communed with nature by way of my feet so that I know how to avoid getting stung by ants and what it feels like to step in warm tar. With my brothers and my friends I filled the hours with games and ideas of our own childlike making. I suppose that somehow we were all the better for the independence that our parents allowed us to have.

The world is so different these days. I suspect that moms might be reported to CPS for allowing their kids to roam as freely as we did back then. I’m not quite sure how possible it now is for children to be left to their own resources, but one thing I know for sure is that they don’t really need those shoes. Take them off, and see if those brains get smarter. What can it hurt?

Civility

Published on by Sharron Burnett1 Comment
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I do my best to be “woke” as the modern vernacular calls someone who is up to date with regards to modern progressive thinking. I’ve done my share of using the big “F” word, and will admit to being quite imperfect more often than I like. I am fairly permissive in a number of ways and often accused of being too liberal by my conservative friends and family members. That being said, I find myself grappling with the growing incivility of current communication. I wince at the public commentaries that are so raw and mean. They bother me in a visceral way that I am unable to overlook.

I learned long ago that we have multiple ways of communicating that are generally governed by somewhat unspoken but understood rules. The language registers that we used operated one way in public and quite another in private. We generally agreed that in the workplace, schools, churches and such we should talk to one another in a more formal manner. We addressed people with a level of respect that was occasioned by the need to be able to work effectively with one another. The kind of honest speaking that leads to cursing and insults was thought to be inappropriate in the public sector.

We all realize that in the more relaxed domains of home and close friendships we are more often than not inclined to use phrases and expletives to express ourselves. The idea is that in good relationships we sense that it is okay to be more open and honest. Those who truly care about us are generally more forgiving of outbursts. It is less likely that we will be punished for a slip of the tongue.

These kinds of mores have mostly been in effect for most of my lifetime. Some may believe that they are somewhat hypocritical, and I suppose that there are arguments for that thinking. Mostly though we have tended to agree that we have to insist upon a certain level of decorum in public lest we devolve into a kind of linguistic anarchy. So it has been for the most part until recently, and sadly the tendency to express frustrations and anger in the vilest terms is gaining traction.

It would be easy to blame the current tendencies on media or even our president who has a very bad habit of tweeting and uttering whatever is on his mind regardless of how distasteful it is. There are many who applaud the so called honesty of such outbursts. Other become so incensed that they resort to fighting fire with fire. Thus we find ourselves watching an awards ceremony only to hear an actor shouting, “F—-“ the president and then he is given a standing ovation. As a society we have become less and less embarrassed by a form of verbal assault that would have been unacceptable in the past.

There are many arguments from both conservatives and liberals that we have been forced into a battle of words by political events. The cheerleaders for such incidents insist that the fight for justice requires that we speak as openly and honestly as possible. They note that those who have been polite have been unable to actually get things done, and that now is the time to be as forceful as needed. They claim that the uncivil war of words is a battle for the very heart of democracy, and so it must be.

Sadly I find the outbursts to be without merit. They are simply gross and violent expressions of anger that do little more than to incite even more rage, when what we need are solutions. Those will only come from a more rational approach to the many problems that we face. Right now all we are managing to do is create divisions that will remain unhealed until we return to a way of speaking to and about one another that demonstrates respect. An argument built only on emotions generally goes nowhere. Relationships are rent in two when the parties are only yelling at one another. Marriages end. Friendships die. Countries wage war.

Children often cry and scream and throw tantrums when they do not get their way. We have to teach them how to control such emotions, and how to properly express their hopes and desires. It is a huge part of becoming an adult, and our youngsters are constantly watching and learning from us. What are they to think when they hear political leaders and icons of art and industry ranting like spoiled brats? Why would they agree to change their own behaviors when they see so many examples of insults being hurled like school yard taunts by prominent adults?

It is time that we insist on a return to civility, and that will only be accomplished if we remain in our seats and refrain from applause whenever someone chooses to speak from the gutter. We need to make it clear that this is not who we wish to be, nor the kind of behavior that we wish our children to witness.

I once had a student who was attempting to defend the efficacy of violence and cursing. He insisted that the best way to get something done was to be the person with the loudest voice and the biggest gun. I debated him until I had reached a point of frustration and I wrote the word A N A R C H Y across the blackboard. I explained that such battles always lead to a state of lawlessness, chaos, disorder that rarely ends well. It is only when we are willing to honor one another and work together that we have accomplished great things. Sometimes that means defeating those who would resort to ugliness as a way of accomplishing goals. Hopefully we will be able to do that within the confines of civility, because history has shown that when we cannot horrible things happen. 

Happy Birthday!

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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My mother loved birthdays with the enthusiasm of a child. She was the youngest in a family of eight, growing up during the Great Depression. There wasn’t enough extra income for gifts or even special meals or desserts, so she and her siblings always received a nickel from their father on the occasion of becoming one year older. Mama always said that she like to take her new found wealth to a bakery nearby where she was able to purchase a big bag of broken cookie pieces that she swore were just as good as the ones that remained intact. As the years passed by she and her brothers and sisters would faithfully send a birthday card to one another that always contained a nickel taped inside. I sometimes sensed that she enjoyed that tradition even more than the more expensive gifts that she received.

Today would have been Mama’s ninety second birthday. She often bragged that she and Queen Elizabeth were born in the same year, and somehow that fact made her feel a kind of kinship with the monarch of England. She noted that they shared a kind of resemblance as well, along with the fact of having their first born children in the same year as well. My mother always alerted us to the Queen’s birthday as a kind of hint that hers was on the way.

She was a stickler for celebrating her natal day at the time of its actual place on the calendar. She didn’t like the idea of waiting until the weekend, so even if we planned a party for her when everyone would be able to attend, my brothers and I still had to make a big deal on the correct date. I suppose that’s why I still think about her on June 27, even though it has now been seven years since she died. I think it would please her to know that we have not forgotten how special this day always was for her. In fact, we decided after she was gone that we would gather at her favorite restaurant each year to raise a toast in her honor. As it happens the place we chose is the Cracker Barrel in League City where she spent many a happy time enjoying the homey atmosphere and the kind of cooking that she might have prepared herself.

In an effort to look after our mother while she was still alive my brothers and I agreed to visit her at least once a week on different days. She usually wanted to go out to eat when we arrived, and sometimes she was even waiting eagerly on a bench that stood on her front porch whenever we drove up. That’s how excited she was about getting out of the house, but that was not the case on her birthday. On that day she wanted all of us to come to see her at one time so that it was like a party. She put me in charge of providing the cake, ice cream and candles. She preferred German chocolate or devils food cake, but she was always okay with a change of flavor. God forbid, however, that I would forget to bring the ice cream or the candles. Those things had to be done just right.

She was exceptional at providing us with festive birthdays even when her income was sorely stretched. She made a habit of shopping all year long and setting aside things that she had found on sale. Her gifts were always quite practical and long lasting, but most of all thoughtful. She was sure to come knocking at the door bearing all of the trappings of a big to do, even as we grew older. I never knew how she managed to be so generous, but I always understood that for her a birthday was supposed to be special no matter the circumstances.

When Mama turned eighty we decide to give her a surprise party. We had little idea at the time that she would die less than five years later. We only knew that we wanted to make her day bigger and better than ever. We sent out invitations to everyone in her stable of friends and family, and they all came. My home was crowded with people who loved her and were excited by the idea of letting her know how they felt about her. They had written letters to her that we placed in an album. We huddled anxiously as she walked up to the door and shouted with delight upon her entrance. She cried tears of unmitigated joy and bore the expression of a delighted child as she opened each gift and read each card.

We all miss my mom. She was the heart of the family and a continual source of fun and laughter. She suffered more than most with the loss of her husband at the age of thirty. Her loneliness, lack of income, and mental illness pushed hard to defeat her spirit, but she battled long and courageously to avoid defeat. Somehow no matter what else was happening in her life, she always rallied on her birthday. It was as though that occasion gave her new energy, new joy, a new beginning again and again.

We’ll be going to Cracker Barrel tonight. Not everyone comes each year, but I do my best to keep my calendar clear so that I will be able to make it. I know that the eldest of her grandchildren will be there along with some of their own kids. The people at Cracker Barrel seem to get a bit flustered when we arrive with such a large group. They don’t seem to understand the importance of the occasion, but we believe that Mama is smiling down on us from heaven. The party is for her after all and we intend to celebrate just the way she would want us to do.

Stick With The Plan

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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I imagined retirement as a hippie like existence with each day offering unplanned opportunities to just live and enjoy whatever would come my way. After a lifetime of schedules that seemed to digest every minute of the day, I was excited about the prospect of just hanging out and wandering aimlessly. It was fun to be that way for a time but it didn’t take long for lots of things to begin to fall apart in my world including my own health and that of my husband. I soon enough realized that running away from certain routines was actually somewhat lethal, and I’ve more or less spent the past year resurrecting my natural tendencies to look ahead and provide structure to my days.

When I was a student I lived and died by the syllabi from my classes, using a calendar and laser sharp focus to stay abreast with my studies. I do not possess enough intellect to cram or do all nighters and still come out smelling like a rose. Any time I neglected my studying duties and waited until the eleventh hour to get things done it was a disaster. Like the tortoise my style was to be slow and steady which required a great deal of initial planning as well as daily dedication to achieving particular goals along the way. I put in continuous effort and avoided temptations to slack off, but did all of my learning in small chunks so that by the end of a semester I was well versed in all of the topics and relaxed about tests and projects.

My methodology proved to be successful and so I continued using it when I became a teacher. I always looked at the number of school days and divided up the sequencing of my lessons before the school year had even begun with plenty of extra time factored in for those emergencies that always seemed to emerge. Then I did specific planning each week. I always knew where I was going and how long it was going to take. I never had to ask my students to cram because I was very much in control of helping them to master skills and knowledge with my own outline of what I wanted them to achieve. I broke lessons, homework, study time down into doable segments for them, hoping that I was also teaching them how to develop the kind of habits that would serve them well along whatever pathways they decided to follow.

A carefully planned lifestyle works even in emergencies because deadlines are rarely left for the last minute. Efficiently using the hours in a day is actually less stressful than finding oneself backed into a corner of demands, but building the needed structure also takes time. After being laser focused and in a sense ruled by calendars and clocks for sixty five years I found myself wanting to suspend all forms of organization and just go wherever my inclinations led me. It was fun for a time but I soon enough found that I had neglected so much that everything became chaotic. I gained weight, lost bone density, saw my energy draining and became surrounded by broken appliances and damage to my home. When my husband suffered a stroke for lack of a healthy lifestyle I came to my senses realizing that life really can’t just be a hippie style free for all of doing whatever makes us feel good. I needed to get control over events and that would take focus and planning.

My calendar is now electronic and goes with me wherever I happen to be. It helps me to keep track of the big picture, but within each day are the specifics designed to keep things running smoothly and still allow for long walks along the beach or leisurely camping trips. My watch is my own personal coach prompting me to stand, breathe, exercise, move. It celebrates the days when I accomplish my personal health goals and admonishes me when I grow lax. it’s a good thing for me because I often find that I would prefer not to spend time at the gym, but when the watch asks me why I am not being good I am reminded of the benefits of doing the right thing and I stay focused.

I have to plan healthy meals as well. I use a number of cookbooks and keep track of recipes that are especially tasty. I have to make sure that I have the proper ingredients on hand, so I keep lists of things that I need and coordinate my trips to the store with my gym time since there is a grocer right across the street from the YMCA where I go. By being prepared I have been less likely to fall back on fast food at the last minute than I was when we were so fancy free.

Our lack of due diligence also led to a major disaster with our hot water heater that otherwise might have been caught ahead of time had we made a habit of checking it regularly. Since it’s easy to forget such things we now have set up reminders for all sorts of maintenance of our home and car. By looking ahead and accomplishing a few things each week we are keeping up with little things that will go a long way toward preventing major accidents. In the long run its a small price to pay and its far more relaxing that facing repairs costing thousands of dollars that might have been unnecessary with regular care.

I’m back to my old habits and loving it. I plan my days to include fun, but no longer neglect the small things that keep me and the world around me operating efficiently. It’s true that regularity makes for better physical and mental health and longer life.

I find myself thinking of a story I once heard of a man who lived near the river at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. According to the tale he was a man of great discipline who ordered his days with a routine regimen that included a brisk hike up a trail that led to the top. That same trail is now a popular site for adventurous souls who go down to the river and then return after their explorations. Seeing them trudging up the rocky pathway is an amazing sight because in spite of their obvious strength and good health it is apparent that the trail challenges them. It is stunning to realize that there was once a man who took the stony roadway in stride even as he grew old. His secret was that he walked along it every single day without fail, and so it became easy for him. Constant repetition has the power of tackling even the most daunting tasks. Doing just a bit here and a bit there makes our lives more manageable and ultimately more productive and happier.

I guess those old platitudes are not so silly after all. An apple a day may indeed keep the doctor away. A stitch in time may save nine. Early to bed and early to rise may not make us wealthy but studies show that we will be a great deal healthier. Having a plan is a good thing. We just need to be sure to remember why we made it in the first place so that we don’t falter and give up.

Far From Finished

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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From time to time I get writer’s block and find myself searching furiously for a blog topic. That’s when I surf the web for ideas, and luckily there are a number of sites offering suggestions. I found myself laughing out loud at one post about lists that focused on ten things to do before one dies. It occurred to me that my time for considering such things is perhaps running a bit shorter than say someone in his/her twenties since I will turn seventy on my next birthday. While nobody ever knows when the time for parting this world will actually come, it is more and more likely to happen as the years go by, for none of us is immortal.

I’m well past many of the things that once tempted me like learning to be a downhill skier. My bones would be quite unhappy with the falls and I’d rather sit inside a warm chateau sipping on some hot soup at the top of a mountain than contemplating sliding my way down. The same goes for exploring the Amazon River. Such an adventure sounded thrilling until I saw a program about a trek that almost killed Theodore Roosevelt. After realizing how brutal such an excursion would be, I’ve given up all thought of even trying such a crazy thing. I’ll leave that kind of insanity for the young. My new ideas are far more in line with the limitations that age has imposed on my body.

I still want to travel as much as possible. I haven’t seen Buckingham Palace or the Eiffel Tower or the Vatican, and it seems to me that everyone should enjoy a view of those things at least once. I know that we are all a bit spoiled in this era because most of our ancestors were lucky to get a few hundred miles out of the towns in which they were born. Now such travels are rather commonplace, at least for Americans. I sometimes have to admit that I feel a bit guilty about our abundance and opportunities, but then I still dream of seeing more of the world and think I will be a better person for having done so. Travel opens the mind and the heart.

Of course, I still want my book to get published. To spur me forward my husband showed me a TED talk on planning. It made me realize what I need to do to move forward, and I am feeling more determined than ever. I have only a small bit of editing to do and then I must find someone who will help me design a cover. I already know how I want it to look, I just don’t have the skills to do it myself. After that I intend to send it to a company that will format it properly so that I can easily upload it to Amazon. I have to specify the time that I will do these things and then stick with the plan. I have friends and family who have already successfully published their works, so I need to be less hesitant to consult with them. I’m sure they will be more than glad to share their experiences to help get me going.

There are a number of small things that I think should also be on my list. I hope to live long enough to witness the next total eclipse of the sun. It’s not that far away and this time there will be great viewing right here in Texas. I also want to see the fall colors in Vermont and go to the Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City. Maybe I might catch a showing of Hamilton while I’m in there.

I’d like to take a cooking class and then prepare a special feast for friends and family. My culinary arts are rather basic, but I’m fondly known as “The Bean Queen” and my gumbo might win a prize. I think that baking would be fun or becoming an expert in Italian cuisine. The art and science of food preparation is fascinating to me.

I want to reteach myself Calculus. I once did well with that subject but I was a good fifty years younger the last time I took a such a course. I never taught that subject nor had reason to use it, so it feels as though all memory of it is gone. I once began a review session at a junior college only to develop a bacterial infection after two days that left me hanging over the toilet bowl for over a week. I had to drop the idea of relearning, but never the desire to get back up to speed.

There are entertainers I would love to see in live performances like Yo Yo Ma, Celine Dion, Kelly Clarkson, Usher, The Gypsy Kings. As a matter of fact I would love to take advantage of all of the concerts that come to town. I find that even people that I never thought to be so great end up being fabulous. My in-laws once took me to see Andy Williams. I was polite about their generous offer but believed that it would be a snooze, It was not. In fact it was a very memorable evening that demonstrated what makes someone famous. In person Andy was incredibly charismatic.

I’ve seen a sunset over the Grand Canyon but I’d love to observe a sunrise there. It would be more than cool to be in Chaco Canyon for the solstice. I want to hear the bagpipers at Edinburgh Castle and walk through the streets of the towns in Slovakia where my grandparents lived as children. I’d love to be in the audience of Saturday Night Live or Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show or even better would be to see Ellen. I want to reread the great classics and pour over the newest bestsellers. When I become too frail to go too far from home I hope to watch marathons of my all time favorite movies and call friends just to chat.

I suppose that my list is in fact rather endless. There is still so much to do and see. The world is an exciting place that I haven’t explored nearly enough. I’ll write about each of my adventures as they unfold, so stay tuned. I’m far from finished.