Category: Building character

An Education

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

free-spirits-ii-13891She was unlike anyone that I had ever known, a free spirit who seemed to float blissfully above the rules of society. She walked through life as though she owned the world, but in reality had few possessions of any merit. More often than not she kept her feet bare, unfettered, even at formal occasions. She was from the north but boasted that once she had found the south there was no turning back. She was an artist, an intellectual, a high school dropout. I could hear her coming in the battered and ancient pick up truck that was her pride and joy. It allowed her to haul items that might one day come in handy for one of her many projects that were rarely fully completed. Her mind skipped merrily from one idea to another with grand bursts of genius. Such it was with our friendship, glorious kinship until she was drawn like a moth to other places.

When she left we both pledged our fealty and promised that we would make great efforts to stay in touch. I even drove a rather long distance to her new home once, a littered slot in a trailer park that was made merry by a colorful garden that she had planted in an old wooden box. She greeted me warmly and we spent an afternoon sipping on herbal teas and laughing at her stories while her children ran like free range chickens in old fashioned play. She never owned a television and didn’t want one. She preferred entertainment from imagination and it was all she really needed because hers was so vibrant. She reminded me of a gypsy princess, exotically beautiful with a fiery personality. I had seen her face down the devil himself and walk away with her head thrown back in haughty victory.

Her husband was a car mechanic and she was madly in love with him, so much so that she had run away with him on the back of his motorcycle. It broke her parents’ hearts and even her relationship with them for a time. Eventually they came around when they saw how deliriously happy she was. She had left the mundaneness of her upstate New York upbringing for adventures that few of us ever experience. She purposely kept few possessions feeling that they held her back whenever wanderlust took hold. Her family was free to go wherever and whenever the winds blew. There were cars to be repaired by her husband everywhere, and her art was as easily created in a small unknown town as in a large urban area.

Eventually she was gone again, too far away this time to pursue. She was not one for exchanging phone numbers or addresses and our acquaintance was in a time before cell phones, email and social media. Our friendship became only a wonderful memory of time spent with a truly ephemeral spirit. Somehow I had known all along that it would not be a permanent thing. I simply enjoyed the moment, knowing that some people cannot set down roots. They must always be on the go, discovering parts of the world that most of us never see.

I still think of her and so many others who have passed through the parade of people I have known. I wonder if any of them ever realized how much I learned from them, how important they were in shaping me into the person that I am today. Each of us encounter individuals who find their way into our hearts, and while their stay is only temporary their influence is forever. There is something about them that we never quite forget no matter how many years and decades pass. Now and again we think of them and hope that they are doing well.

I gravitated toward strong-willed women at a time when I was shy and weak. I observed their behaviors and learned from them. It was an education without walls, so real and meaningful. I surrounded myself with ladies who had known grief, abuse and hard times. They had emerged with dignity and an unwavering sense of themselves. I was their intern, someone longing to learn from them. Like a sponge I soaked up their spirit and determination to face down whatever challenges arose. They did not have degrees or certifications but they were perhaps the smartest people I had ever known. I encountered them when I was struggling to find myself and they showed me how to be what I wanted to be, not what others wanted for me. They taught me how to respect even the most humble and broken among us, treating them with the dignity that everyone deserves.

I suppose I might attempt to find some of them like Diane or Rosie or Debbie. It isn’t that difficult a task with the Internet and all of its resources. Somehow though, I don’t think that it would be wise to do so. I believe that I was only supposed to know them for a certain time during which they would help me to emerge from my awkward cocoon. Their spirits have remained in my heart and they have been there again and again smiling and guiding me.

They would be old ladies now with middle aged children and perhaps a number of grandchildren. We might not even recognize one another even if we were to pass in a crowd. We went our separate ways long ago. Our personal demands overtook us leaving little time for the idle chit chat that we enjoyed when our babies toddled under our watchful eyes. We each found new homes, new jobs, new adventures that moved us farther and farther apart until one day we had lost each other, but never the memories.

We are the sum total of all of the events and people that we have ever known. Their influence lives inside of us and is even passed down to our children long after our acquaintances are done. We find the individuals that we most need at exactly the right times. It is almost magical the way that happens. There are so many who gave me so much of themselves along my journey who are now strangers. I would so like for them to know how much they helped me and how grateful I am that I once knew them. I’d like to think that things turned out as well for them as they did for me.

Why We Gotta Be So Mean?

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

troubled-teens-bully.jpgI truly believe that we humans are mostly good. Still I see far more signs of bullying and ugliness these days than ever before. A friend confided that her son was being mistreated by the girls in his class. He is a very sweet, almost naive soul who can’t quite understand what he may have done to deserve their ire. An acquaintance who is generally a very kind and sensitive person recently took the bait of societal anger and posted an article poking fun at a female political figure. It was quite negative in tone, and unnecessarily so. It’s only purpose was to be cruel and so it stunned me to see this normally good hearted individual becoming part of the negative crowd. It seems as though just living in the world today can quickly devolve into a blood sport.

There is a certain anonymity that comes with the impersonal nature of social media. Being part of a group that initiates callousness feels safe and without consequence. Bandying about words seems a harmless joke given the old saw that sticks and stones can break our bones, but words will never hurt us. Besides, don’t some of our leaders get by with verbal attacks with impunity? What does it really matter to vent our feelings? Shouldn’t people be mature enough to handle our truths?

Thus we find posts on Facebook that create confrontations and tweets on Twitter that seem to revel in their use of cleverly noxious words. There are those among us who have lost their sense of propriety and are even celebrated for their ability to get a rise from some unsuspecting soul. When such attacks occur frequently enough the inflicted pain can become unbearable and then depression and fear follow quite naturally.

We have tried to instruct our children in how to handle the barbs that may come their way. We teach youngsters to curb any tendencies to be bullies and to help those who are victims. Somehow none of our efforts ever completely take hold. No matter how hard we try the ugliness persists and at times even appears to grow, making life quite difficult for those who are the butt of mean spirited behaviors.

There are celebrities like Lady Gaga who pour themselves into the task of helping to reduce bullying. She has created a brigade of young folks who are trained to encourage and celebrate acts of kindness. The hope is that focusing on the positive natures of humans just might mitigate the more negative aspects of the way we treat one another. It’s a glorious idea and bears watching. God knows that we have nothing to lose by actively trying to improve the ways that we interact. Those who demonstrate concern should become our winners, our heroes, not those whose overbearing remarks and actions wound and leave scars.

I read about a school where the students are encouraged to look for anyone who is seemingly alone and welcome that person into a warm and friendly circle. The young people who have adopted this attitude are finding that they are learning as much about themselves as they are about their classmates. They report that everyone feels safer and better understood.

A little boy in a small town heard about a police officer who was killed in the line of duty. The newscasters spoke of how devastated the fellow officers were, so the child decided to donate his Wii to the station. He remarked that playing the games usually made him feel better even when he was sad and he hoped that the bereaved men and women would find solace in the activities that they would be able to share together.

There are good people everywhere who do the most remarkable things without ever expecting credit or even thanks for their efforts. I still recall a young woman who helped me to feel welcome on my first day of teaching in a new school. I can envision her beautiful smile and hear her encouraging words. Somehow she sensed my nervousness and did her best to assuage my fears. Her thoughtfulness made a discernible difference.

I can only imagine how much more wonderful the world would become if we all tried very hard to turn our temptations to be angry or insulting into opportunities to be caring. It takes so little to be nice but it really does turn the tables. Instead of answering anger with anger we might try showing patience and understanding. Love should always trump hate or as someone has said, “When they go low, we go high.”

I suppose that the most difficult situations are those in which we find ourselves facing someone who is blatantly obnoxious. We might simply ignore that person, especially if we sense that attempting to change him/her is impossible. Walking away is not cowardice. Sometimes it’s the bravest thing we might do.

We should also consider answering unpleasantness with warmth. Sometimes it is possible to disarm the negativity by countering it with understanding. I was involved in an incident in which a parent was loudly upbraiding a colleague at one of my schools. When I asked her to calm down she cursed me and told me to mind my own business. I quietly left the scene and came back with cold drinks, snacks and an invitation to come to the comfort of my office. The lady seemed stunned by my calmness and my small gesture of hospitality. Her demeanor became more relaxed as I told her that as a mother I understood her passionate concern for her child. I suggested that together we might be able to devise a plan that would help. Before long we were all partners in an effort to set things right. The ill feeling had disappeared on all sides.

It is doubtful that we will ever eliminate all of the cruelty that exists but we can make focused efforts to do our own parts to approach our daily lives with a sensitivity to the needs of those with whom we interact. We should strive to consciously compliment rather than criticize, smile rather than frown, find common ground rather than dwell on differences. We really don’t have to be so mean. We can change someone’s state of mind simply by remembering to be kind.   

The Death of Fairytales

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

QVcoronationWhen I was a little girl women’s roles were still mostly traditional. Few of the women that I knew worked full time outside of the home. My mother was forced into such a situation when she became a widow, otherwise I doubt that she would have been anything other than a homemaker. I had a couple of aunts who were trailblazers in terms of having careers and some of my neighbors were employed in very interesting jobs. One was a commercial artist who wore exotic clothing and furnished her house with ultra modern furniture. Another was a lawyer who sometimes cried when speaking of her inability to have children but seemed to truly enjoy her work. She often invited me over for tea and to play cards or checkers, all the while encouraging me to do something remarkable with my life just as she had. All in all though not many women were yet ready for the feminist revolution that would eventually off like a rocket when I became a teenager.

As a very young child I dreamed of being a princess or a queen. Fairytales had me convinced that women lucky enough to live in castles and bear titles were the most fortunate maidens on the planet. I recall my disappointment the first time that I realized that I was never going to be discovered at a formal ball by a handsome prince. I was not born of noble blood and therefore would always be deemed unworthy of the notice of a monarch. I would lead the life of an ordinary soul without benefit of riches and fame unless I earned such things myself.

I got over my sadness rather quickly and made my own way in the world. I haven’t been showered with wealth but I have had a great life all in all. I have always found time for my favorite hobby which is reading. Biographies have fascinated me for as long as I can remember and among those that I enjoy learning about are women who became queens. For that reason I have been particularly excited about watching Victoria on PBS and The Crown on Netflix. The stories about Queen Victoria and Queen Elizabeth respectively have been quite fascinating while also convincing me that I am rather lucky not to have to wear their shoes.

Both women spent the majority of their lives locked into responsibilities that were thrust upon them at very young ages. While there were jewels, lovely clothing, expansive gatherings and adventurous trips to keep them entertained, they also had to adhere to rigid traditions and rules that impinged on their freedoms far more than I would ever be willing to endure. They had to be careful of every utterance and action lest they do irreparable harm to the monarchy or the country. They were expected to select their spouses from a very limited field of candidates, most often from a band of royal cousins. They were in the public eye continuously and criticized readily for any perceived missteps. To me the lifestyles that they were forced to accept were akin to living in a cage in a zoo.

Victoria quite unexpectedly ascended to the throne and because she was quite young there were those who felt that their claims to office were far more reasonable than hers, making her first forays into ruling much like walking through a minefield. Nonetheless she did her best to rise to the occasion only to be criticized when she chose to marry her first cousin, Albert, a man of Germanic heritage deemed unworthy of the position. As it happened, Victoria and Albert had quite a love affair and together created a very large family of children whose influence would spread across all of Europe and ultimately lead to a world war. Sadly Victoria was a rather uninvolved but highly critical mother who made life very difficult for her offspring. Albert was the better parent but he died fairly young leaving Victoria in a state of depression that lead to a total breakdown. She would wear her dark widow’s weeds for the rest of her days and for the most part lose interest in both her country and her children. She ultimately became known for her melancholy and nagging nature, hardly the possessor of happiness that I had imagined a queen to be.

Years later on of her descendants, Elizabeth, would be entrusted with the same role that might not have been hers had her uncle Edward not abdicated the throne to marry a twice divorced American woman whom he passionately loved. Elizabeth was barely in her twenties when her father, the king, died from lung cancer. Like Victoria she had also wed a cousin, Phillip, whose lineage was traceable back to the same Victoria from whence she garnered her birthright. She had to learn how to put the crown before all else in her life and as we have all witnessed over the years that role has placed her in difficult situations again and again. Even though she is the monarch she has no say in the politics of her nation and she must be incredibly discreet in both her commentaries and actions.

As the head of the Anglican Church Elizabeth was forced to rule against her sister who wanted to marry a divorced man. The resulting feelings of betrayal and unhappiness that her sibling experienced would blight the two women’s relationship for years to come. A similar scandal played out decades later when Elizabeth’s own children found themselves in unhappy marriages that publicly broke apart. I have often wondered if the idealistic Princess Diana had imagined that her life would be as magical as a fairytale only to find that the reality of royalty is routine, dreary and devoid of the most basic freedoms that the rest of us enjoy. The moment when she felt trapped in a nightmare must have been devastating and her dutifully trained mother-in-law would not have been able to empathize to ease some of her concerns.

The more I learn about being a royal personage, the less I am inclined to want to have anything even remotely resembling such a way of life. I am the one who is fortunate in being able to go wherever I wish without worry that someone is stalking me or judging my every move. The only restrictions on whom I would marry were the qualifications that I had deemed important to a good relationship. I have been able to choose my career pathway and determine how many children to bear. The fact that I had no male heirs matters not at all. I can openly utter my political views and chart my daily course. If I want to disappear for a day or a week, I am free to do so. My anonymity is a grand gift that allows me to be myself.

If I were to rewrite fairytales for modern girls, I would create heroines who spurn the trappings of a princess in lieu of liberty. Snow White would divide the household duties among each of the dwarfs and go to work with them as the forewoman of the mine. Cinderella would create a professional chimney cleaning service with offices worldwide and a reputation for paying her employees well above the minimum wage. Beauty would write a best selling book and marry the Beast as an equal partner. None of these brilliant women would have the goal of becoming a monarch or a regent. They would understand the pitfalls of being trapped in such occupations and create lives of their own.

I put my girlish beliefs away long ago. I no longer envy the lifestyles of royal personages who must become figureheads for a nation. I believe that I have found far greater satisfaction and meaning in the humble life that I have lived. I suspect that there have been times when those who must endure the titles of monarchies may agree with me.

Good Luck

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

strangeluck-622x415Have you ever noticed that some people appear to be lucky and others seem to be plagued by one misfortune after another? I’m rational enough to realize that most events happen randomly and I’m hardly superstitious but I still wonder how it is that there are those who seem to have targets on their heads while others appear to find diamonds in the middle of common rocks.

We’ve all heard stories of people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and others of people who narrowly escaped tragedy. When the attack on the twin towers occurred on 9/11 there were countless tales of folks whose lives were saved because they were late for work while their coworkers all perished. I recall sitting with a man who was attempting to find his parents who worked in one of the buildings. He was an emotional wreck as he called again and again only to receive no answer. He became more and more certain that they had perished as the hours wore on. Finally he heard his father on the other line who explained that he and his wife had played hooky from work that day, something that they had never before done. They had marveled at the beautiful weather and came to the conclusion that it was a fine day for a picnic. They had been heading for a spot out in the country when the building where they worked collapsed.

Was it luck, a premonition or just a coincidence that they chose that very moment to so uncharacteristically miss work? Undoubtedly they felt lucky but there was nothing supernatural about their sudden decision to vary their routine. Some of a spiritual bent might claim that an angel was watching over them or they were saved for some grander purpose but believing such things leads to the inevitable conclusion that those who died were not given the same consideration and it calls into question God’s fairness.

I have always been taught that every person’s life is a series of ups and downs, triumphs and tragedies. Good times are as inevitable as bad times and often it is the individual’s attitude that determines how much positivity will occur. Hard work, determination and a willingness to keep trying even in the face of defeat often leads to success. A person who does well in life is always open to meeting people and seeking out opportunities. The odds that they will reach their goals improve mostly because over the course of time they have tried things over and over again. They are unwilling to quit just because the going gets tough. They take risks and often their attempts pay off.

Of course there are events that happen that are out of our control. Nobody chooses to receive a diagnosis of a terrible disease. We don’t go out of our way to be hurt in an accident involving a drunk driver. The people who perished on 9/11 could not have known what was in store for them on that day. They just happened to be part of a tragedy that was beyond anyone’s imagination. Bad things occur and unfortunately we sometimes become victims. If this is a sign of being unlucky then I suppose that there really is such a thing, at least in terms of describing the unfairness of such randomness.

I have known individuals who have endured terrible things and somehow remained optimistic. I have known others who are crushed by the weight of challenges that befall them. Some among us are more prone to depressive episodes than others, not so much because they are weak or negative but because they have a genuine chemical imbalance in their brains that causes them to be anxious and lose control. I have witnessed such illness in my mother, close relatives and dear friends. With care and medication they are able to lead normal lives but theirs is a constant struggle just to be happy. This is not a matter of luck but of vigilance.

I have often felt both lucky and unlucky. I know that being born in the United States gave me a head start that many people in the world do not enjoy. I had good parents and attended excellent schools. My extended family cared for me as well. I have never been abused and I achieved a comfortable standard of living through my own efforts and the encouragement of many people. On the other hand, I have sometimes felt sorry for myself because my father died when I was a very young child. Our family struggled economically. I was a late bloomer and felt awkward as a teenager. My mom suffered from bipolar disorder and I spent most of my life caring for her. Still if I were to fill out a scorecard I would have to admit that the majority of my existence has been one of great happiness. I have known much love and enjoyed many successes. I have little about which to complain. The difficult aspects of my history have been par for the course in the grand scheme of things.

I am not above collecting lucky charms like the little pigs that I purchase for each new year. I do so more for fun than any actual belief that they will somehow make my life better. I might just as well have decided to bring four leaf clovers, mushrooms, lady bugs or horseshoes into my home in the hopes of increasing my good fortune. None of them would work as well as improving my own attitude and willingness to put in the time needed to bring a sense of peace into my world.

We humans have a long history of tempting the fates with magical actions. We cross our fingers and eat black eyed peas. We wear lucky hats and use the same shirt in which we enjoyed a victory over and over again. We hide a rabbit’s foot in our pocket and whisper so called magical words. In spite of all of our advances in mathematics and science that tell us our charms are silly we use them nonetheless. There is something comforting in thinking that perhaps we might bring unseen forces to bear on making life better. It doesn’t really hurt much as long as it’s not the only thing upon which we rely. Rejoice when good fortune seems to come your way out of nowhere but understand that it was only due to the randomness that affects us all. In the end we are the masters of our fates. It is in how we react to the inevitable joys and pitfalls that we determine our own luck.

Searching for Love and Truth

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

normamccorvey6The world is filled with interesting stories, some more than others. So it is with Norma McCorvey, AKA Jane Roe. Norma grew up in the same era in which I lived. In fact she was very close in age to me. She was born in Louisiana to parents who seemed ill prepared to raise children. Her father was an abusive alcoholic and her parents’ union ended in divorce not long after Norma was born. Some women have a very unfortunate habit of falling in love with bad boys and so it was with Norma’s mom who forged a second relationship with a man who sexually abused Norma on a regular basis. By the time that Norma had reached her adolescence she was continually at odds with the law and ended up in juvenile detention centers and foster homes. Hers had been a confusing childhood without guidance, loving protection or opportunities. Little wonder that she was married and pregnant by the time that she was only sixteen.

Norma, like her mother before her, made many bad choices and was left by her husband to raise the child on her own. Realizing that she did not have any of the resources needed to care for herself much less a youngster, Norma gave the little girl to her mom. After that her life became a continuing series of unfortunate events. She became pregnant again and decided to give the little one up for adoption. She repeated her mom’s mistakes, seeming to be unlucky in love and life in general. When she became pregnant a third time she wanted to have an abortion but it was still illegal to do so in the state of Texas where she resided. A couple of lawyers who were looking for a test case to challenge the law took Norma under their wings and fought all the way to the Supreme Court for her rights and those of others to abort fetuses that were unwanted, claiming that particularly because Norma had been raped she should not have to have the baby.

The court case took well over three years to complete so Norma was forced to bear the little girl that she carried all the way to birth. She gave that child up for adoption just as she had with the earlier baby but ultimately won her case in the famous Roe vs. Wade decision that forever changed the way many women would view unwanted pregnancies. Norma never again became pregnant nor did she ever require or receive an abortion but she nonetheless became a celebrity in the pro choice ranks and even worked for many years in an abortion clinic. She seemed to find finally find her footing when she settled down with another woman in Dallas continuing to fight for women’s rights on a regular basis.

Along the way Norma met members of a Dallas pro-life group. They discussed with her their own beliefs that a fetus is a human being with its own rights as a person. Initially she scoffed at their arguments and in the feisty way that was her trademark made fun of their religious thinking. Somehow in an unlikely alliance they began to respect one another and Norma was taken by the way in which her opponents seemed to love her in spite of their differing opinions. Nobody had ever treated her with so much respect. She began to listen to what they had to say and to consider the possibility that perhaps their thoughts were valid.

She found herself feeling bothered by what she saw happening in the abortion clinic where she worked. Finally she renounced her pro choice position claiming that she had been used by the two lawyers who represented her in the landmark case. She even insisted that she had lied about being raped in order to make her situation appear to be more worthy of sympathy. She was baptized and in a stunning reversal became a spokesperson for the pro-life movement. Eventually she even left her long term partner and became a Catholic.

Norma was living in Katy, Texas not far from where I live when she died a couple of weeks ago. She never again saw the two children that she had given up for adoption but she is said to have thought about them often. The daughter that her mother had raised was by her side as she breathed her final breaths.

I was particularly taken by the sadness of Norma’s life. I encountered so many young girls like her when I was a teacher, sad souls who were forced into adult roles long before they were ready because their parents were unable or unwilling to care properly for them. I have taught twelve year olds who were raped by family members and became pregnant. They were angry, confused and fearful over what had happened to them. Their children became more like younger brothers or sisters than someone for whose life they were responsible. They were totally unprepared for the difficulties that lay ahead of them.

I have seen the loving results of children who have been saved from such situations through the process of adoption. When paired with genuinely caring adults they generally thrive and lead incredibly wonderful lives. There is something quite special about the realization that they have been chosen that helps them to grow to be strong and confident. I’d like to think that Norma’s adopted children found happy homes and that they were able to break the cycle of poverty and abuse that had been the definition of Norma’s lifestyle.

The question of abortion is a complex one that will not soon go away. There is much disagreement about when an unborn child becomes a person. We are inching further and further into the developmental cycle of the fetus in determining where the line is drawn in determining what state defines viability.  There are now places where abortion is permitted all the way up to twenty four weeks. Many consider it a form of birth control and each year millions of women end their pregnancies not because they have been raped or have health issues but because they do not want to have a child.

On the other side of the argument are those who believe that conception is the defining moment of personhood and that abortion is murder of a human being. They find the practice to be barbaric and morally wrong and fight continuously to outlaw the abortion once and for all. Many consider such individuals to be little more than religious zealots but they see themselves as soldiers in a battle against an evil that must be stopped.

Ironically Norma McCorvey was the face of both sides during her lifetime. She believed that she had seen the light in her later years when she became a pro-life advocate. She felt that she had been used and abused for most of her life and that it was within a community of faith-filled individuals that she finally found the love and respect for which she had been searching since she was a child. She died convinced that her part in Roe vs. Wade was flawed and terribly wrong.

It appears that Norma somehow found a modicum of peace and even built a loving relationship with the one daughter with whom she still had contact. She found friendships that she enjoyed and her life became bearable. I would like to think that she is now enjoying the peace that had been so elusive for her for so much of her existence. Hers was a search for love and truth that is now at an end. May she forever rest in peace and may those of us still here find the answers to the questions that she posed and the strength and wisdom to work for what is right just as Norma tried to do.