Category: Building character

Accepting Our Different Ways Of Coping

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I’ve often noted that speaking or writing in public can be a dangerous game to the extent that words whether uttered or written down are subject to misinterpretation. As someone who majored in English Literature I remember the energetic debates regarding what an author may have actually meant to say. It always amazed and amused me how we bring our own preconceptions to the analysis of virtually any topic. Where and how we grew up plays a major role in shaping how we view the world. The experiences we have had or not had contribute as well. Our understanding of the nuances of language is yet another factor. Indeed communication is far more complex than a simple utterance may at first glance appear to be. Putting thoughts on paper or speaking them in a public forum is an exercise that will lead to as many different parsing of the words as a game of “telephone” played by a hundred people.

There is very little in the world that is simple but we humans nonetheless do our best to keep things that way. We want certainty in our lives, routines that help to make us feel secure. When those things are taken away the foibles of our individual personalities are tested. Some become uncomfortable while others actually appear to enjoy the riskiness of the situation. When the situation we are facing is wrought with more questions than answers we go into survival mode and how we behave can be very different from one person to another.

As we navigate the unknowns presented by the outbreak of Covid-19 our individual modes of coping are often at odds. There are those who appear to do best by laughing at the situation and that’s not a totally bad idea. The award winning film Life Is Beautiful tells of courage in the face of horror in a story of the power of humor in overcoming the unthinkable. Being able to voice our fears is important but sometimes difficult. A good chuckle allows our emotions to run free.

I have noticed others who turn to activity to keep their minds from dwelling on the possibilities. I know from my own experiences that keeping busy is a powerful antidote for sadness. It was the very panacea that I needed and used after my father’s death. The only trouble that I found with it is that I eventually needed to face down the powerful feelings that remained in my heart. Hard work kept me going but it was not enough to heal my hurt. Stoicism can be admirable, especially when we need people to get things done but we must always remember that at some point they may need to vent, to express what is bothering them. It is important that we allow them those moments.

Of course we all know individuals who quite openly speak of the thoughts that are flowing freely through their minds. For some their honest utterances are uncomfortable. As a rule we sometimes don’t want to hear them. We try to quiet them with platitudes and assurances when all they really need is our willingness to hear them out, our attempts to understand. In many ways they are actually the most courageous among us because they are often saying things that we are too reluctant to say. They have the wisdom of profound honesty and I wonder why it makes so many of us so uncomfortable. Their embrace of the truth of their feelings is a sign of trust, so why do we so often cringe when we hear them saying the very things that are buried in our own hearts ?

I suppose that I am a classic “Pollyana.” I go about in a crisis attempting to make everyone feel happy and optimistic. It is as though I have some notion that if we just stay positive everything will work out for the best. While there is nothing innately wrong with that approach it can be annoying to the realists and it can also have unforeseen consequences. Not every ending is a happily ever after but facing the state of things as they actually exist can sometimes be the surest route back to the promised land. A mask of false confidence can be as ineffective as a thin mask used to contain a deadly virus. Sometimes people have to hear the truth to get to a better place even if it makes them uncomfortable.

We are each reacting to the threat of this novel virus in our own particular ways. How we manage to get through the coming days is a very personal journey. Perhaps our reaction to one another’s differences should be more understanding.

I am in a good place on a personal level. I do not mind being isolated inside my home. It is a lovely environment that allows me to spend my days in a serene little cocoon. I do not have the virus but I have every other thing that I may need. I only worry about others as I watch this tragedy unfold.

I hear the panicked warnings of the doctors in my family and the healthcare workers who are my friends, and I am anxious for them. I witness the anxiety of those who have lost their jobs or watched their nest eggs decrease, and I understand their concerns. I see the young men and women whose educations and experiences have been so abruptly upended, and I understand their disappointment.

I do not have to be told to relax or to endure or that everything will soon be alright. I have every faith that humanity will ultimately win this battle, but my instincts tell me that recovering will not be as easy as some would have us believe. We are in for great change and difficulties unlike many of us have ever seen. It will take a global united effort to get back to a good place and there will be no room for laying blame or making excuses. We’ll simply just have to get to work just as humans have done anytime the world has turned upside down. More importantly we will need much understanding and a willingness to accept our differences in the way we approach problems.

The reality is that we need will need everyone and every response. We will need to laugh from time to time and sometimes cry. We will require the brutal truth and the softness of diplomacy and encouragement.  Perhaps as we sit in our homes it is time that we consider how to be more tolerant and willing to accept that nobody has all the answers and no one person is always right. Maybe coping means being willing to accepting that each of us has a place at the table and something important to offer the world.

 

A Letter To My Children and Grandchildren (Including My Children From Another Mother)

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March 2020

To My Beloved Children and Grandchildren: (Including my children from other mothers)

Who would have thought as we began this new year and new decade that only months later our world would be so changed? Life often surprises us, but this pandemic is beyond anything that we might have imagined as we each went about our daily routines making our plans for the future. This is certainly not how any of us would have wanted the situation to be. So many of our short term goals have been dashed into unrecognizable pieces in the blink of an eye and many of our long term ones feel more and more difficult to achieve. We each wonder if the world will ever again be as it once was. Perhaps the only bit of optimism to which we now must cling is that so far we are still here and hopefully will remain untouched personally by the virus known as Covid-19.

We have always been participants in the great arc of history but now the events swirling around us feel far more momentous than any that we have hitherto experienced. I sense that each of us will be called upon to be flexible, make sacrifices and use the talents that we have to help rebuild a better society. Every moment of life teaches us important lessons and few provide us with as many opportunities to demonstrate our character and courage as this moment in time. History will tell our stories and I predict that each of you will be judged magnificently because you are all good and decent and bright. I know that no matter how battered your dreams may appear to have become you will resurrect them and accomplish them with even more resolve.

All of the tomorrows truly belong to each of you. Do not fret or worry about what you may have lost or the “might have beens” that never happened because of this interruption of your lives. There will be times of great rejoicing ahead. There always are for individuals with enough grit and ingenuity to remain focused and optimistic even when things appear to be falling apart. The world will need your intellect, your charisma, your work ethic, your compassion.

The days of my generation are not quite over yet and contrary to some thinking we are not totally expendable, but the truth is that you will soon be taking the reins to steer the course of the future. Your talent and beliefs will shape the world for years to come. I have every faith that you will be magnificent caretakers of this earth and its people. While it appears to be in a bit of a shambles right now I have confidence that humankind will rise up just as we always do to make things right. It is in our natures to sometimes need the shove of a disaster to realize the things that we have been doing wrong. Be ready to help to repair those mistakes.

In our days of isolation and solitude we have been reminded of what is most important. There is nothing more precious than our relationships and the love that feeds them. If we have learned nothing else, we should all be more intent on nurturing the beautiful connections that we have always shared. Family is the bedrock of who we are and ours is and always has been so very strong. We have models of inspiration both living and gone whose stories should guide and inspire us. Our ancestry speaks loudly of strength and purpose and the ability to survive. We’ve got the DNA that we need and when we bond together we are unstoppable.

I mostly want each of you to know how much I love you. There is never a day when I do not think of you. I am proud of who you are mostly because of your goodness. You have many accomplishments and no doubt many more are to come, but it is in your sense of honor and duty for your fellow human that I am the most profoundly moved. I do not worry that you will be overcome by the challenges that will come your way and while the present one may feel a bit overwhelming you will find a way to defeat it.

I am looking forward to the coming years and sharing in the triumphs that will come your way.

With deepest love,

Mama/Gammy/Aunt Sharron/Mama B

Living In the Twilight Zone

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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Do any of the rest of you feel as though we have been caught in an infinite loop of The Twilight Zone? I know I do. I find that I awake each morning feeling rather good until my brain reminds me that nothing is exactly as it was only a couple of weeks ago. I won’t be planning a camping excursion any time soon nor will a trip to the grocery store be as unremarkable as I had grown accustomed to it being. As long as I am in the quiet and safety of my home I don’t feel anxious at all but as soon as I turn my attention to the outside world I am stunned by the extent to which we are all grappling with the unknown and my cockeyed optimism is rattled just a bit more.

I keep thinking of Rod Serling’s greatest stories and how they have stuck with me even though they seemed to be only the stuff of science fiction, unlikely to ever transpire. There is the tale of the young woman stuck in her New York apartment as the world is slowly and painfully coming to an end. Then I remember episode featuring a man who is a lone survivor of some cataclysm making the best of the situation by planning to read away his loneliness only to drop and break the eyeglasses that allow him to see. When I see the photos of empty shelves in grocery stores I am reminded of Serling’s take on the effects of panic in a cautionary story of a once friendly neighborhood that turns on itself at the first sign of trouble. Those shows had a way of stunning us with their shocking endings but we never thought that any of the creative scenarios might possibly come true.

Let’s face it. Despite all of our past grumblings about the unfairness of the world most of us would be more than happy to rewind to September 2019 if only we might never have to face the unraveling of the world that has slowly enveloped all of us in fear. It’s difficult to go the the dark possibility that maybe things will never be quite the same again. If there were indeed a way to undo all that has happened would we remember how it felt to be threatened with loss and privation? Would we be more willing to be appreciative of our good fortune and then share it with those who have not been as lucky? Would we be more attuned to working together to solve problems. Would we always be generous and less wasteful, eager to slow down to enjoy our families and our friends? Would we treasure life more now that we have seen how fragile it and our institutions can become? Would we be able to see how destructive our hubris can sometimes be and begin to value our differences?

The human experience is riddled  with instances of grave mistakes as well as stunning victories over injustice and evil. We seem to slowly work our way toward better versions of ourselves as long as we don’t get lost to temptations that interfere with our focus. We work best together when we are willing to tap into our more enlightened natures by a willingness to admit that we rarely have all of the answers. Perhaps we have been moving too quickly of late. Maybe we have been to busy competing with one another and building resumes of our accomplishments that are not particularly important. We have scurried about too quickly, forgetting to take the time to be still and hear the beating of our hearts and see the simple beauty that surrounds us.

This is indeed the most incredible event of my lifetime and I have seen quite a bit in my seventy one years. It has the potential to define us in the long stretch of history. We will eventually move on from this, but will we have learned from it? I know that I have been continually reminded of the wonderful people who are part of my life during the last few weeks. I have felt their love surrounding me. I want to cherish that feeling and never forget what it has meant to me. My hope is that the whole world will find renewed pleasure in the simple act of spreading kindness and understanding every moment of every day.

I am not so naive as to believe that this is a kumbayah moment in which humankind will shed every aspect of its darker side. People have endured plagues, wars, economic depressions and holocausts many times in the past and yet we still haven’t found a way to prevent those things from ever happening again. We fall back into our bad habits again and again which is why I find it somewhat hypocritical to denounce our ancestors when our own modern track record is not free from sins. Instead we must attempt to learn from mistakes and rectify them as best we can.

We’ve seen hoarders and thieves and individuals who have attacked Asians in the misplaced belief that they are somehow responsible for our present woes. At the same time we have witnessed even more signs of generosity, courage, brilliance and understanding. When all is said and done these are the qualities that will remind us of who are and should be as the human race.  Our questions right now should not dwell on judging others, but rather on how each of us might help. These are the things that will provide us with the optimism we need to build the future and take us out of the twilight zone.

   

The Line I No Longer Want To Cross

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

fetus

I was brought up in the Catholic faith. My mom enrolled me in Catholic school from the first through the twelfth grade. I was baptized at All Saints Church by Father John Perusina and my Aunt Polly was my godmother. I partook of the sacrament of Holy Communion in the second grade at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Catholic Church. Shortly before that grand day I made my first confession. In the fourth grade at the same church I was confirmed as a Catholic. I think that my Aunt Valeria was my sponsor. My husband Mike (also a Catholic) and I were married in a ceremony conducted by the same priest who had baptized me. There are two more sacraments in my religion and one of them is Holy Orders which is used to ordain priests and the other is the Anointing of the Sick which used to be known as the last rites. 

I’ve remained a believer for all of my life but admittedly slacked here and there with regard to attendance at mass on Sundays, particularly during my hectic working days. Sometimes I  needed a day to sleep in and relax around the house just to be able to face my students with energy and enthusiasm on Monday morning. I’m a cradle Catholic who became a bit lazy at time but always returned to the fold even when I differed with some of the teachings. For example I think it’s well past time to allow women and married persons to become priests. I’ve also been rather liberal in my thoughts regarding birth control and I think that gay and lesbian folk should be able to marry and enjoy their lives. 

I learned the ten commandments when I was little more than seven years old. During my twelve years of Catholic education my teachers went more and more into depth with explanations of the scriptures and foundational tenets of the Church. My high school theology classes were rather adult in content and in the questions that we asked the priests who taught us. I learned that there was a bit more flexibility with regard to how I should live my faith than the black and white reasoning that guided me as a child. I fudged now and again with “little white lies” but did my best to avoid those that mark one as dishonest and hurtful. I suppose that I self guided my behavior by referring to all that I had learned in those twelve years of my youth.

I once stole fifty cents and felt the sting of guilt for that transgression for years mostly because I had taken from a dear friend. I changed my ways after that and never again took anything that was not mine. I’ve been faithful in my friendships and my vows to my husband. My imperfections come mostly from anger, jealousy, self righteousness. I do my best to be the kind of person I want others to be and admit that I fall short of my high minded ideas more often than like. I’ve crossed a few lines and felt the sting of culpability after that fact but there are some things that I can never do.

Murder is the ultimate sin and for me it takes more forms than the obvious one of killing another person. I have witnessed the destruction of an innocent individual’s reputation and I believe such is a kind of murder in its own right. It is a foul thing to do and I abhor such an act. There is also a form of emotional murder that abuses with words that kill someone’s spirit, leaving them to feel as though their souls are dead. I have seen parents and spouses who taunt a person that they should love until the victim is emptied of all joy.

Our country is presently engaged in a debate over abortion that I view as being cloaked in dangerous semantics. The pro choice side speaks of rights, women’s health, protection of individuals. The pro life advocates see the taking of the life of an unborn child as murder of a human being. I’ve thought long and hard about this issue and I have come to the conclusion that abortion is not a form of birth control but is indeed murder just as my church teaches.

One often used argument in favor of abortion implies that pro life supporters are willing to endanger a woman’s life over that of her unborn child. I learned long ago from the priest who taught me that the stance of the church is to save the mother in such situations which are generally somewhat rare. Nobody has ever said that a woman must sacrifice her own life and I know this because I have heard many such discussions in my high school theology classes as well as with the priest who baptized me.

We are presently concerned about a virus which poses the possibility of killing a significant portion of the world’s population unless we keep it at bay. Everyone is working hard to do everything possible to contain the spread of the disease. Worldwide society values life including that of our animal kingdom and our earth itself. Somehow many have convinced themselves that an unborn life is not worthy of our concern. They proclaim that a being unable to take care of itself without human intervention is not really a person. Such logic flies in the face of all that I believe and it pains me to think of the millions of babies that have needlessly died. To me the evil that has perpetrated this crime is as bad as the one that found no harm in slavery or the genocide of millions of people based solely on physical traits or beliefs. How can we twist the truth to the point of making villains of those who would protect the unborn and heroes of those who see fetuses as little more than cells? 

There was a time when I had a laissez faire attitude about abortion. I felt that it was wrong for me but I was unwilling to publicly take a stance. I viewed the issue as one that should be decided quietly by each individual. To my horror I have watched as our laws have become more and more lax regarding how and when abortions may occur. I have heard people argue that it should never really too late to end a pregnancy right up to the moment of birth. I have seen that by my silence I have been complicit in the growth of the acceptance of abortion as a good and humane way of allowing women to enjoy control over their own destinies. When I said nothing I allowed the popular attitudes to lean in favor of an act that I believe to be harmful to all of society. The genie is so far out of the bottle that I worry that we may never be able to put it back. I helped in the crossing of a very dangerous line because I was unwilling to stand up for something that I believed to be wrong. 

I still do not wish to judge others but I think that I need to let those who make our laws know how many of us there are who firmly believe that abortion is an abomination. It is my duty to work to find viable alternatives for women who find themselves bearing an unwanted child. They need those of us who abhor abortion to support them in compassionate and practical ways. It should be my duty to help end this barbaric practice with kindness, love, and workable solutions. I can longer hide behind silence. Acting as though it doesn’t matter one way or another is the line that I no longer want to cross.

Personal Bests

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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In spite of our best efforts to the contrary much of life becomes a competition. We observe from a young age that winning not only sometimes brings us personal joy but often defines us as someone worthy of notice. We are cautioned to be individuals and to follow our own purposes and beliefs but somehow we find ourselves trapped in comparisons over and over again. We hear that learning is more important than grades but are then ranked in an insidiously rigid fashion. We strive to quietly live moral purpose driven lives but watch louts and bullies being lauded as great people for accumulating wealth. We hear that accomplishment should be measured by how well we manage to take responsibility for our own personal outcomes in life but equate it with money and power instead. So what is this thing that we call success and how do we measure it? Who attains it and who does not? Why do we draw comparisons for something that should be so personal?

A strict definition of success describes it as attainment of a goal, a eureka moment when we use our resources to achieve a desired outcome. From a developmental standpoint it should be founded on a personal aim that is attainable with a bit of effort. It’s not a simple idea to define with preconceived standards. For someone suffering from depression the mere act of getting out of bed, dressing and attempting to seize the day can be daunting. Making it from hour to hour without giving up takes sheer determination and yet we rarely credit anyone who engages regularly in such struggles with the badge of accomplishment.

To think that each of us is born with exactly the same set of abilities is absurd and yet we often act as though we are. Some children come to school with intellects so keen that they barely need to pay heed to their teachers while others are riddled with learning difficulties that make achieving benchmarks painfully hard. We heap praise on the naturally gifted and dismiss the child who plods along as being irritatingly slow. Even our universities that are filled with professors who should know better award coveted spots on their rosters to those who excel on one time tests rather than basing such decisions on traits like grit.

Within the small communities of our individual lives we laud the person who accumulates wealth or titles but rarely commend the person who chooses a path of quiet service. We don’t think to equate the torturous act of overcoming an addiction with success on a job, and yet the personas who free themselves from subservience to deadly habits are as courageous as war heroes. Our society honors the women who excel in the world of work but overlook those who devote their lives to the care of family and community. Was my grandmother who taught eight children how to be upstanding citizens any less than a woman who decide to run for President?

Defining success is a tangled web of contradictions and questions that are not easy to answer. In our hearts we know that it is never just about a one size fits all definition. There are many versions of achievement that cannot be measured by preconceived notions of what that means. My grandfather spoke broken English, had little more than a sixth or seventh grade education, and lived in what would be defined as poverty for all of his life and yet it would be unwise to view him as someone who accomplished little. Indeed in might be argued that he was a giant of a man, someone of amazing attainment.

Grandpa found a way to escape the demeaning oppression of his native Slovakia. He worked and saved to bring his bride to freedom as well. His children attested to his never ending work ethic, noting that he never once missed a day on the job at a meat packing plant in spite of pains in his legs that made standing all day long a torture. With a ridiculously low income he paid for and owned his home. He kept his family fed and safe during the Great Depression. He sent his children to school and taught them to be loyal and productive individuals. Most of his neighbors viewed him as little more an outsider who spoke with broken English and struggled to keep his family afloat.

I see him as the successful man that he was. With no financial help from anyone he carved out a life for himself and his family in a land that was not always kind to him. He went to his job each and every day without complaint and worked hard while he was there. His children were sheltered from rain and cold each night and went to bed with food in their bellies. He raised them to love God and country and to be honest and productive. There is little more honorable and outstanding that any man might do. He was a great success.

My grandparents’ children became successful in their own right. Their children raised the bar even more and their children continue to push themselves to reach goals in athletics, science, mathematics, engineering, medicine, education and business. They have overcome handicaps and realized dreams that began with a man who was unnoticed by the world in which he lived. Such is the stuff of true success and reaching it is not a matter of some artificial measure, but the reality of day by day determination until each personal best is achieved.