Category: Commentary

Make Waves

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Waves.jpgWhen the waves of life crash down on you, pick yourself up, get ready for the next one, and ride it like you own it!!!

I’ve enjoyed living only fifty miles or so from the beach for all of my life. While Galveston Island, Texas doesn’t compare to the grandeur of Destin, Florida or La Jolla, California it has definitely been adequate enough to bring me decades of pleasure. When I was still a young girl there was hardly any adventure that I enjoyed more than riding the waves of Galveston Bay. I loved how the water would lift me off of my feet and propel me in directions over which I had no control. The laws of physics created a ride that made me squeal with delight and I would spend literally hours repeating the process of floating and bobbing like a piece of driftwood over and over again until my mother demanded that I come back to shore lest the sun blister and burn my skin.

There is something liberating about freeing ourselves from the constraints of gravity and just letting go. When we allow ourselves to be one with the waves of the ocean we become part of a great cosmic ritual that ties us to the universe. It is a primal pleasure that gives us both a sense of our own power and the reality that we are but a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things. Somehow our worries and cares don’t seem to matter as much when we surrender to the surge of water that washes over us. We learn that thrashing and fighting against the tide may cause us harm, but simply floating and enjoying the ride will provide us with a rush of pleasure and happiness. Life is so much like that. There are things that happen to us that we can command and others over which we have little or no control. Knowing the difference will help us to lead much more joy filled lives.

A couple of weeks ago the skies darkened to a leaden gray as we finished our dinner outside on our patio. Within minutes the wind was gusting at fifty miles per hour. Our phones warned us to find shelter because tornadoes had been spotted in the area. Rain came crashing down on our roof. We were lucky. The storm blew over almost as quickly as it had come, but not far down the road it was a different story. Most of the community was left without power. Eighteen wheeler trucks had been blown on their sides. Trees were down and shingles from roofs littered the ground. The people were left with great damage and a terrible mess that needed cleaning up. They had been blasted by one of those waves of horrible luck that none of us ever want to face. By morning they were calmly doing what we all have to do in such circumstances, assessing the damage and planning the repairs. In other words, they bravely carried on.

It is in our natures to take on the blows of the outrageous fortunes that knock us off of our bearings. Somehow we find the courage to get back up and do our best to take charge again and again. We find silver linings even in the middle of storms. Whether it be losing possessions or people that we love, we bear our sorrows and eventually find our way back to seeing the best in our lives.

I have often thought about the tragic souls who were sent to the Nazi concentration camps. I can think of no more hellish situation than the one that they endured. They witnessed horrors that nobody should ever see. Many of them managed to stay alive and be freed only to find that their entire families had been murdered. It seems impossible that any of those people might have been able to go on to lead happy and productive lives, and yet most of them did. They managed to find a slice of normalcy and perhaps to celebrate the rising of the sun each morning in a way that none of us might ever understand. When all but your own beating heart has been stripped from you, maybe you develop a defiant courage and a realization of what is most important. Freedom becomes a treasure and you squeeze everything you can out of it.

At the beach there are also moments of low tide when the ocean is almost placid. It’s not nearly as much fun as when the waves are roaring, but there is a remedy for the lack of action. That is when you must make your own waves by kicking and stirring up the water with your hands. It takes a great deal of effort and energy to make things happen, but it can be done. So too are there moments when we somehow know that it is up to us to speak out in the name of all that is right and just. We can’t simply sit on the sidelines waiting.

My generation had a reputation for being trouble makers. We prefer to think that we were more like change makers. We spoke out against long accepted policies that had become the status quo. We had grown up in the shadow of segregation even while our minds told us that it was wrong. We watched our peers being sent to a questionable war and we began to ask why. We made waves and changes slowly began to take place.

We are in a new era with new problems. The wave makers are still at work and that is not a bad thing. It is from those willing to kick up a froth that we often realize the reforms that we must all make, and history is replete with individuals who were willing to take action. Galileo certainly whipped up a frenzy. Harriet Tubman risked her own safety and freedom. Today various people and groups also ask us to consider new ideas and ways of living. We don’t have to agree with them, but we should respect their courage in speaking out, for ours is a nation founded on the idea of providing everyone with the freedom to voice their concerns. It’s important that we protect that right with all of our might.

I’ve gotten myself into a bit of trouble now and again by standing up for my fellow workers or particular students. Some of my superiors have not appreciated my boldness, but others have seen my willingness to make waves as a sign of leadership. They understood that my goal was not to defy them, but to introduce them to slightly different points of view that needed to be heard. I did not always get their approval but I  usually won their respect.

The whistleblowers and protesters, editorialists and reformers are important to our progress as a nation. Any organization that does not have those who are willing to push back when things don’t seem quite right is doomed to failure. We need to hear all of the opposing philosophies. The day that we all walk in tandem and total agreement is the day that our way of life is on the verge of collapse. It’s up to each of us to know when it’s time to speak out and when we must kick as hard as we can to make waves.

Our Unique Selves

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

the-danger-of-uniqueness-1058x426People are fascinating to me, and I don’t just mean the rich, the famous or the accomplished. I am interested in the common everyday person like myself. I long to hear people’s stories. When I go to Walmart I’m not looking for crazies so that I might laugh. Instead I find myself wondering how each person got to this moment in time and what his/her past and future may be. I understand that some of the most compelling histories are found in the lives of the most ordinary people and that it is virtually impossible to judge a book by its cover.

I knew a woman who cleaned houses for a living. She rarely wore anything other than torn jeans and stained t-shirts. Her hair was long and stringy. She appeared to be little more than a good ole Pasadena gal, but upon further research I learned that she had an MBA from Harvard and a very successful business caring for homes in River Oaks.

I once had a student who appeared to be little more than an arrogant bad boy who drove his teachers to the brink of insanity. He befriended me and ultimately told me stories that made me cry when I was alone in my home. He had a single mom who struggled to keep the family from being homeless and wandering the streets. Life was as tough as it gets, and yet this young man found the time to attend church with a friend. The services provided him with solace in a world that was mostly cruel to him. He had been born again and wanted more than anything to be a good and Christlike person. He confessed to me about something that was bearing down on his conscience and desperately wanted to know what to do.

He and his mom and sister had been on the verge of being evicted. There was no food in the house. Things looked quite grim. They walked to a nearby Walmart to see what groceries they might afford with the few dollars that his mother had left. While they were perusing the aisles the boy’s mom noticed a cart with an expensive purse sitting in the child seat. The woman who owned the handbag was far away with her back turned as she searched for a particular product. Her bulging wallet was visible and just begging to be taken. My student’s parent grabbed the billfold and whispered for her children to follow her quickly away from the scene. When the coast was clear she opened the wallet to find over five hundred dollars inside. She immediately cried tears of joy and told her children that they would be able to keep their apartment and eat well on that day.

My student, her son, was conflicted. He knew his mother to be a good and honest woman but she was desperate. He also realized from his recent religious conversion that what his mom was doing was very wrong, and yet he remained guiltily silent. The theft bore down on his mind and he was not sure what he should do. His dilemma easily explained his surly behavior and the fact that he was unable to focus on his school work. It would have been easy to simply write him off, but in hearing his story I understood the depth of his morality and the pain that worrying about his mom had wrought.

People are always so much more than they seem, but we don’t often hear their entire stories. That is where my most passionate interest lies. I truly enjoy discovering the essence of the people that I meet and I suppose that I have always been that way. My mother used to chide me for staring at strangers. I certainly meant nothing by doing that. I simply wanted to know them better. I liked to read faces and body language. I desired to know why someone was angry for no apparent reason. I realized that we are who we are because of a totality of experiences.

I think that it would be quite wonderful just to sit across from someone and say, “Tell me all about your life. I want to know what it has been like for you.” I suspect that if I were to do so I would find out that almost everyone begins with similar hopes and dreams, but the serpentine nature of reality often sends him/her along routes that challenge and sometimes even defeat. Those people who seem ridiculously strange are more often than not just victims of situations over which they have lost control.

Fighting one’s way out of poverty or abusive situations is much more difficult than it may appear. The sad truth is that we are not all equal in terms of intelligence. I have encountered so many individuals with major learning disabilities who struggle mightily to learn. Others are afflicted with mental illnesses that stalk them so often that they are unable to create routines for working and achieving success. Then there are those with major health problems. The list of reasons why some people remain in a state of economic or psychological distress are quite real and often not of the individual’s making. As a society it is up to those of us fortunate enough to lead relatively stable lives to help those who are less able but we don’t always do that. We instead look the other way or poke fun at those who are different.

I’ve also known people who are far more remarkable than they are willing to let on. They tend to be quite humble individuals who rarely toot their own horns. Sometimes it is only when they have died that we really begin to know them through the eyes of the people whose lives they impacted. As stories of their generosity, contributions and talents are shared we realize that a saint or a rock star was hiding in plain site, but we had no idea because they would never have sought recognition for their incredible deeds. My cousin who passed away just before Thanksgiving was one of those souls. All of us were stunned to hear of the innumerable kindnesses to one person after another that he displayed all very quietly. We knew he was a good man, but never quite realized the extent of his largess.

Most people have a hobby of some sort, but mine is learning about others. I would love nothing better than to make appointments everyday to just listen to the folks with whom I have been acquainted and those that I have yet to meet. I can only imagine how many wonderful things I would learn. This world really turns from day to day not so much from the movers and shakers but from the millions of nameless individuals who rise with the sun and do their best to make the most of the cards that have been dealt them. It is in their stories that we find profound truth and maybe even inspiration. We need to hear from them because each person is a beautiful and unique gift to our world who deserves to be celebrated and understood.

No Fear

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

8550140-3x2-700x467We protect our children. When they are babies we install monitors in their bedrooms and rush to their aid when we hear crying or unusual noises. We buckle them into crash tested car seats when we travel by automobile. We place padding on the brick fireplace hearth. We install gates near stairs and locks on kitchen cabinets. We know how curious toddlers are, so we prevent them from straying into things that may harm them. We are deliberate in choosing who will watch them in our absence.

As our babies grow older we continue our vigilance. We teach them how to ride bicycles but insist that they wear helmets in case of a crash. We provide them with knee and elbow pads when they are learning how to roller skate. We give them a healthy diet and learn as much as we can about their friends. We enroll them in swimming lessons so that they will be safe around water. We talk with them about how to behave. We teach them and model our values for them. We are always ever watchful.

It is difficult for us to allow our teenage children to become more and more independent. We give them driving lessons and warn them again and again of the need for safe habits when behind the wheel of a car. We gauge their moods lest they be in some sort of psychological trouble. We continue to instill high moral character in them, hoping that they have heard our voices and that we have been good enough examples for them. We enforce curfews and insist that they keep us apprised of where they are and who is with them. We continue to look after them. They are our children and it is our duty to provide them with as safe and healthy an environment as possible.

Our children are innocent. They view the world with open arms, at least until they are hurt. They sometimes laugh at our concerns about them. They view our cautions as a sign of age. They long to be free and to experience life unfettered. Theirs is mostly a joyful time of exploration and risk taking. They often learn best in the school of hard knocks even when we have warned them of the possible difficulties that they may encounter. They love being with their friends and sometimes treasure the thinking of their peers more than ours. Their push back frustrates us, but we know that it is part of the natural progression of growth and development. We don’t worry unless we see indications that they are somehow changing for the worse, then we intervene. Always we are watching.

The time comes when our children ask to be part of the culture of their generation. They want to go see one of their favorite performers just as my granddaughter did when she learned that Maroon 5 was coming to the Houston Rodeo. We adults buy them tickets because we see no harm in letting them enjoy the music that is so popular in their circles. We smile at how joyful and excited they are. We give them extra money to purchase a t-shirt to remember the occasion. We understand how they are feeling because we too went to the concerts of our favorite rock stars back in the day. We remember dancing and singing along. It was a very happy time for us. Now it is their turn to experience a live performance. We know it will become one of their best memories.

Nobody expects to have a special evening turn into a tragedy. It is unthinkable that something as innocent as going to hear Ariana Grande sing will somehow become dark and evil, and yet we know that it did at Manchester Arena in Great Britain. A cowardly murderer found a way to kill and maim young children and teenagers, mostly girls. More importantly and sadly, he also managed to introduce terror and fear into their lives. The occasion that should have been so enjoyable will instead always be a source of horror and a moment that stole their innocence. What happened there was as despicable as any form of violence might be, for it not only hurt the young but it also sent a strong message to adults that their children may not be as safe as they had believed. Therein lies the ultimate definition of terror.

We are in a most unfortunate era of history. We find ourselves considering whether or not to visit this place or that, this event or another. We tell ourselves that we do not want to be constrained by fears and yet our imaginations nag us in the recesses of our minds, particularly when we think of our children. We have learned that few places are sanctuaries. People have encountered violence at churches, movie theaters, concerts, sporting events, restaurants, shopping malls, schools. The attacks are random and unpredictable. In the grand scheme of things the probability that something will happen to us or to our children is actually quite small and yet we worry, knowing that we will never forgive ourselves if we become too lax and suddenly find that our loved ones are among the count of victims. We don’t want to be careless even as we understand that there is no way of knowing whether or not someone with a twisted mind is lurking. We refuse to be afraid but must admit that some primal part of our brains is always alert.

We don’t know what to do to stop the madness. We pray for wisdom and miracles. We wonder if we should answer with an eye for an eye or stand on the side of peace and diplomacy. Should we erect barriers or be more inviting? The answers are unclear and each time that a heartless act occurs we begin the endless debates again. We sometimes surrender to the idea that this is simply the new way of the world, something that we must endure as a matter of course. We shudder at the thought that our reality may include telling our children that there is a boogeyman for whom they must be watchful. We worry that we may have to confine and restrict them even more for their own safety. Then we cry that they must be subjected to such fears because we remember the glorious freedoms that we enjoyed when we were young. How can they be carefree when the world is in such a state of chaos?

We have to talk with our children. We must reassure them while being truthful. We need to allow them to express their fears and then it is up to us to help them to understand that we will always do our very best to keep them safe. It is important to emphasize that most people are truly quite good, but then teach them how to best survive when they are in a difficult situations. We have fire drills knowing that most of the time we will never need to use the procedures. So too should we discuss what to do in other emergencies, including terror attacks. Keeping a cool head may mean the difference between safety and harm. It will also provide youngsters with a greater sense of control and well being.

We don’t need to take unnecessary risks but we still need to show our children how to enjoy life. We have always dealt with a certain level of uncertainty. Life throws us curveballs whether or not we encounter a terrorist attack. Every single day someone is in a car accident or receives a worrisome diagnosis. Weather has the power of changing the landscape in an instant. We cannot allow ourselves or our youth to become paralyzed with fear, but we can prepare them to use their heads and react properly in any dangerous situation. Most of the time they will never have to use those skills, but we must give them a sense of power so that they might go forth and explore the wondrous world around them with no fear. 

The Man on the Train

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

cta2061I was seven years old and with my family enjoying a vacation in Chicago. We had spent the day seeing the sights and were riding an elevated train back to our hotel. It was somewhat late at night so we were quite tired. There was only one passenger in the car with us. He was a rather nondescript soul who sat muttering to himself and staring at the floor. We thought nothing of him as we laughed and spoke of the fun that we had enjoyed that day. I suppose that our enthusiasm may have been a bit loud and over the top, but we were children. It’s the way that little ones react.

Without warning our fellow passenger focused his gaze on us and began loudly cursing. When our only response to his outburst was to quietly look at him in astonishment he stood up and began gesturing wildly as he spoke directly to our father. He insisted that Daddy either remove his “brats” from the train or face the consequences. Our dad immediately lost his cool and suggested that the strange man was the one who needed to leave the train which by then was already rumbling down the tracks. The two men stood within striking distance of one another in a contest of wills, and I found myself astounded that my father was capable of becoming as ferocious as he now appeared.

I was suddenly quite terrified and I sensed that our mother was feeling as frightened as I was. She pulled us behind her tense body and quietly watched the proceedings unfold in a posture that told me that she was ready to pounce into protective mode if needed. The man was out of control and noticed my mother’s demeanor. He immediately began to curse at her and call her horrific names that I remember to this day. Daddy turned red and it almost seemed as though smoke was coming from his ears. As he attempted to step forward to answer the man’s taunts with a clenched fist Mama grabbed his belt and pulled him back with all of her might.

This prompted our attacker to hurl even more insulting epithets at both our mother and our father. He boasted of violent things that he was going to do to both of them, and he promised that when he was done he would throw me and my brothers onto the train tracks where we belonged. This outburst so enraged Daddy that he broke away from Mama’s hold spewing threats of his own. Mama in the meantime kept begging both of the men to calm down and move away from one another. Just when it seemed that a bloody battle between the two men was about to ensue the train arrived at the next station and as the doors opened Mama ordered all of us to follow her out of the train while she tugged with all of her might on our father’s hand. Within seconds we were free, and the train sped away with our attacker still cursing and flailing his hands.

I have never forgotten that episode even though it has been six decades since it occurred. I have always believed that had it not been for my mother’s cool thinking there might have been a terrible tragedy on that night. Somehow she understood that the only way to deal with the deranged man was to ignore him and flee as soon as possible. While she never again mentioned our dangerous encounter, she often reminded us to walk away from insulting taunts from out of control individuals. She even used yet another story as an example. It involved a time when our grandfather attempted to aid a young woman who was being verbally harassed by the man accompanying her. Grandpa ended up being badly beaten by both the man and the woman because of his ill timed intervention and felt lucky to get away alive.

I have thought of my own family stories in light of the recent verbal attack of two young Muslim girls in Oregon that resulted in the fatal stabbing of one man and the injuring of another. It seems that the perpetrator of the crime somewhat randomly began insulting the two women drawing the protective ire of two Good Samaritans. Little did they know that he was bearing a knife or that he would even think of using it on them.

I have since seen a number of articles outlining what people should do in such situations, and I can’t help but think of my mother’s quick thinking. I have generally found that the first level of defense is to silently ignore the rants because they are usually indicative of someone whose mental state is out of control. Only when the verbal assaults turn into dangerously violent physical action is there any need to react. Words may hurt but they are nothing compared to the harm from actual fights, and it is very unlikely that anything someone does or says in such a super charged moment will change the assailant’s mind. In other words, the most heroic maneuver is to quietly shield the targets of the rage and then help them to leave the scene as quickly as possible. Any arguments no matter how logical they may seem have the potential to inflame the situation. My advice is to get out and get help.

Years after I had been so traumatized on that train I learned that an acquaintance had been killed as he attempted to help a woman who was being assaulted by her boyfriend in a bar. Just as with my grandfather both members of the couple turned on my friend slamming a metal bar stool into his head in retaliation for his interference. Ironically my friend had just returned from a tour of duty in Vietnam only to be cut down for an heroic act in his own hometown.

We have given a great deal of press to individuals who are coming to the aide of people who are being harassed with racist rants. Ellen even presented a monetary reward to one kind soul who stood up to a contemptuous and vile verbal attacker. While it seems to be the noble thing to do, I would humbly suggest that everyone be careful in assessing the situation before jumping into the fray. Sometimes the very best thing for everyone is to do nothing other than get away from the situation as soon as possible. There are truly crazy and evil people whose actions cannot be predicted. Giving them a wide berth and ignoring their remarks may in fact be the best reaction.

As a teacher and school administrator I often encountered people who lost their control. I’ve had individuals threaten to follow me home and beat me to a pulp. I have been called some vile names. I found over and over again that I had to be the one to maintain my composure by staying calm and refusing to react in such situations. As my mother often advised, I had to consider the source and understand that there was far more happening inside the minds of such individuals than anything that personally affected me.

Our father wanted to protect his family on our train ride from hell, but it was our mother who understood what needed to be done. We should all try to think first before attempting to deal with such insanity, or our original intent may end up leading to even greater problems. Sometimes remaining silent and running away is the most courageous route that we might choose.

The Greatest Show On Earth

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Home-Slideshow_Tightrope2When I was a little girl my mother took me and my brothers to the circus every November. We never saw the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey variety. Instead we attended the Shrine Circus. I recall seeing men roaming around in funny looking fezzes and wondering who they were and why they were donning such silly headgear. At the time I still didn’t understand the good works that the Shriners did, so they seemed rather ridiculous to me. When a friend of my daughter’s was badly burned in a freak accident I learned more about the charitable organization that treated her wounds for free in their hospital in Galveston, and I became a very willing donor to their causes.

It was always an exciting treat to go the circus. I wasn’t a particular fan of the elephant acts and it would not be until I was an adult that I began to hear rumblings about cruelty to them. Instead I was fascinated by the high wire and trapeze artists. They seemed so daring as they swung and balanced high above us. I would sometimes attempt some of their tricks on the swings at the park or in my backyard and pretend that I too was a circus diva.

The clowns were mostly a bit too silly for my taste, but I never grew tired of watching a tiny car park inside the main performance arena in order to allow its passengers to exit. It amazed me that an endless stream of brightly dressed folk would keep coming out. I could not imagine how they had all fit inside. It never occurred to me that they were using tricks to fool us. I truly believed that all of those people of every possible size had somehow compacted themselves enough to squeeze inside the mini-automobile. Even when I grew older and understood how things work I found myself laughing hysterically at the age old schtick.

I didn’t care much for the lion tamers. I was not only afraid for the human inside the cage with such wild and dangerous creatures, but I also felt pity for the animals. It seemed wrong to have them so penned up and I hated that the performer kept cracking his whip at them. I really could have done without such acts, but I adored watching the men and women being shot out of cannons. That was something to see!

All in all I enjoyed all of my visits to the circus. I always purchased a fluffy ball of cotton candy to enjoy during the show and our mother usually bought peanuts for all of us to share. I never quite knew exactly where to focus my gaze because the show was truly a three ring circus with acts occurring simultaneously in three different areas of the stage. I worried that I was missing something while staring at one place, but I did my best to rotate my gaze every few minutes to assure that I would get a good view of almost everything. If I happened to have my eyes peeled in the wrong direction either my mother or one of my brothers would alert me with an exclamation to check out something special in another ring.

I was somewhat sad to learn that the Ringling Brothers Circus was coming to a final end. Supposedly they were not able to overcome the negative press about their treatment of elephants even after they decided to drop those acts from the shows. Somehow once there were no more of the big pachyderms on the stage attendance dropped off to unsustainable levels and the long time traveling show had to fold its tent forever.

When I heard the news I thought of all of the performers and wondered what they would now do. I know that many of them had come from generations of circus performers. They had literally grown up under the big top, traveling from city to city with their parents and grandparents and slowly learning the trade. I read of one performer whose circus pedigree went all the way back to his great grandfather. He had risen through the ranks serving first as a clown and ultimately being one of the headline balancing and acrobatic performers. He was planning to work with an Italian circus for the next eight months but after that he was unsure of what his future would hold.

I suppose that the whole idea of a circus became a bit too old fashioned for today’s world. There were worries about the treatment of animals and it became rarer and rarer to hear of a kid threatening to run away with a circus troupe. Cirque du Soleil is far more glamorous with its thematic and carefully choreographed acts. Many of the circus fans abandoned the old school ways for the modern, and the children didn’t have enough exposure to fall in love with the circus the way I did. It was no doubt inevitable that the Ringling Brothers Circus would ultimately fail as I suspect most of the others have as well.

I’ve often wondered if the concern about animal cruelty began to infiltrate the public consciousness in earnest with the Disney film Dumbo. To this day I can’t watch that movie without having an ugly chest heaving cry. It ranks as one of the saddest movies of all time in my mind and I suppose that it made me think about the plight of circus elephants for the very first time. Maybe that’s why I tended to look away when they performed even when I was only a small girl.

I suppose that there is a time and place for everything and the days of whole towns turning out to see the circus are gone. There are more exciting attractions that have superseded them. Still I can’t help but recall such fond memories of our annual ritual of attending the circus when it came to town and seeing my mother as excited as we were. I loved the feeling of imagining myself flying high above the crowd and jumping fearlessly from one trapeze to another even I as held my breath as the performers really did such things. How I loved the feathers and the glitter of the costumes and the booming voice of the ring master.

I’m as guilty as anyone for the demise of the circus for I quit attending performances decades ago. I became too busy with other pursuits and too unwilling to spend my money on something that no longer held the fascination that it once did. Perhaps there were a few too many souls like me to sustain the economic health of the business. It became less and less of the Greatest Show On Earth. Now there is no more Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus and belatedly I feel nostalgically sad, for there was once a time when I thrilled to the grandeur of it all.