Family – Page 28 – All It Takes Is A Little Love

Just Like That

Published on December 5, 2018November 29, 2018 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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Colorado, at least in the mountainous areas, is like a picture postcard. On its best days It is a slice of what heaven must surely resemble, but much like life it can also be treacherous and filled with untold problems. Thus it was on my most recent visit to that gloriously beautiful part of the world, a kind of bittersweet journey that challenged me with a cornucopia of emotions.

Day one was perfection, a picture postcard of memories beginning with an easy stress free flight from Houston to Denver on the day after Thanksgiving. My brother, Pat, and my sister-in-law, Allison picked us up from the airport and we chattered all the way to Estes Park where we enjoy a delicious lunch. There we learned that there would be a parade later that afternoon, and so we decided to stroll through the shops to take advantage of seeing the special event.

It was so cold that not even our layers of undershirts, sweaters, coats, mufflers, hats and gloves were sufficient to keep us warm. We purchased woolen blankets and found places offering coffee and hot chocolate to ease the chill that seemed to go down to the marrow of our bones. In spite of the frigid conditions we talked and laughed and had a glorious time. We were happy to be spending time together and spoke of our plans for the coming days.

The parade was a local affair with floats and decorated cars that spoke of homespun efforts and lots of heart. The high school band played Christmas carols and the Knights of Columbus strutted in full gear. There was a twinkling light bedecked bus that carried waving seniors from the nursing home, and many a float that appeared to have been crafted inside someone’s garage. It was precious and genuine in a way that the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade will never quite understand. It reminded us of the parade in the movie A Christmas Story, a kind of throw back to a simple era when folks just had a good time and didn’t worry too much about perfection. It was a most wonderful way to launch the Christmas season.

We stayed in Pat and Allison’s cabin on Storm Mountain, a home built of logs and lots of love. We munched on popcorn and spoke of all the things that we were going to do together during our visit, but since Mike and I had awakened that morning at four to get to the airport on time we were exhausted fairly early and had to give in to the signals from our bodies that we were done for the day. We knew that the morrow would be the reason for our journey, the wedding of a cousin in a lovely setting in Lyons.

When I awoke the early I found Allison sitting at the dining table looking grim and tired. She had been awake for hours after receiving the kind of phone call that dashes dreams and joy. Her daughter-in-law’s father had suddenly died. He was by all accounts a very good man, beloved by everyone who knew him. He was also quite young, only fifty four, and seemingly in the peak of health. His last day on this earth had been spent with friends and he had prepared for bed no doubt thinking of how wonderful his life was. Nobody would have thought that he would collapse and die so instantly. The shock of what had happened ricocheted through the roster of friends and family members who so loved him.

His daughter had to learn of this tragedy from a celebratory vacation in Thailand. Her world went from joy to grief in a matter of seconds. Allison had spent hours rerouting and rescheduling the journey home for her sweet daughter-in-law and her son. What had been the trip of a lifetime had spun into a nightmare. Pat and Allison would have to leave Colorado immediately and return home to Houston. Mike and I would attend the wedding and finish our trip alone. Just like that everything had changed.

A winter storm was brewing that day. There was promise of snow and ice in the mountains. We rented a car and soon enough learned that it handled the roads well until we tested its mettle on treacherous trails filled with ice and snow. It could even not make it up the driveway at the cabin and the worst weather was yet to come. Thus we settled for a hotel room in Loveland and said our goodbyes to Pat and Allison with heavy hearts. They would battle the elements on their long journey home, an added reminder of how quickly things can change.

We made it to the wedding feeling a bit other worldly. Our minds were on the people who were dealing with the end of a beautiful life while we were focusing on the new beginning of two people very much in love. It was a vivid reminder of the cycle of our lives and the need to always be mindful of our blessings. Being at the wedding was the perfect panacea for the dreariness that had invaded what we had intended to be a great celebration. It was impossible not to smile when witnessing the unadulterated joy of the bride and groom. Our disappointment and concerns melted away even as the wind outside whipped at the windows and reminded us that another young couple was far away making the arduous trip home to bury a father.

By the following day the storm had passed. The sun came out and shone gloriously as if to encourage us to maintain our optimism even in the face of tragedy. We attended church surrounded by strangers who nonetheless embraced us. A friend suggested on Facebook that we thank God all day long rather than petitioning for favors. As I noted the wonders of our day I realized that my world was indeed crowded with beauty and kindness and ways of feeling happy in spite of the trials that come our way.

The remainder of our trip was quiet and comforting. We seemed to have acquired the Midas touch because each day was somehow golden. We thought of Allison and her daughter-in-law’s family often and hoped that they somehow felt the vibrations of our love and concern for them. We relished our own moments perhaps a bit more acutely as we had been reminded how fragile and precious life actually is. Just like that the sweet may turn bitter and the bitter may become sweet. It is the way of the world. It is the circle of life even for the very good.

My heart is still heavy for the family of that good man. I understand all too well that shockingly terrible feeling that comes from losing a loved one without warning. Nothing can adequately describe the sense of unfairness and loss. I can only assure all who loved him that this wonderful man will be remembered for the joy that he so generously showered on family and friends. In time the overwhelming sadness will be replaced with beautiful memories and his spirit will enable all of them to go on to embrace both the bitter and sweet of life. Just like that winter will pass and spring will come again.

The Diary of a Working Woman

Published on November 28, 2018November 17, 2018 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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We still don’t have a woman president, but nonetheless we appear to be living in an era that is focused on the accomplishments of the female half of society. While this is very good news, it is actually nothing new for me. I happened to grow up in a family headed by a woman going it alone. I was surrounded by strong female role models for all of my childhood, and they inspired. I married a man whose mother was brilliant and forward thinking, so he and I became coequal partners from day one. I’m an independent person who has always had my own thoughts and goals. Nonetheless I know for certain that being a woman who so-called “has it all” in terms of love, marriage, family and career is often a daunting task. In fact, there are many moments for women in the workplace that are wrought with major challenges that are not always met with understanding by bosses and even female coworkers.

My daughters will point to how lucky I was when I was immersing myself into my vocation of teaching. Whenever they became ill I only had to call my mother-in-law and she would come running across town to watch them while I went to work. I missed very few days because of a sick child, and never had to worry about their care when I was devoting my time to my students. My girls didn’t even have to be “latch key” children because that same mother-in-law met them each afternoon and stayed with them until I returned home. She often prepared dinner for my family as well. I would not have been able to afford a babysitter or nanny on my teaching salary, so having my mother-in-law as a backup was a godsend. She allowed me to be far more dedicated and reliable than I might otherwise have been. For most women who work, dealing with childcare related emergencies is a nightmare and an additional stress added to pursuing a career.

I was blessed with incredibly understanding bosses throughout my entire work life. It made a huge difference in my outlook because I also had to watch over my mother. There were times when her mental illness became so problematic that I would have to miss work days to get her the medical care that she needed and then monitor her progress with medications. I never felt that any of my principals lacked the empathy that I so needed from them on those occasions, but I beat up on myself and felt as though I was somehow shirking my duties to my students. It was a no win situation that always made me wonder if I was being fair by hanging onto my job even knowing that I might have to be absent more than I wanted to be.

I ended my career rather abruptly and at least three years before I had intended to retire. My mother was living with me, an arrangement that made caring for her a great deal easier than if she had still been in her own home. I worried less because I knew that she was safe, and my brothers did their parts in taking her to doctors’ appointments and entertaining her. Still, things became so uncertain in my final year of work. My boss announced that he would be leaving at the end of the school year, and at about the same time I learned that my mother had lung cancer. The future looked rather murky to me. I realized that I would not be able to depend on the compassion from my principal that had allowed me to balance my job with my home life. I had even reached an agreement with him to work a four day week by taking a twenty percent pay cut so that I might have more time for my mother. I worried that a new person would be more demanding of my time, and so I determined that I had finally reached an impasse and needed to retire. Such is often the fate of a working woman who also embraces the role of caretaker.

My school was in a state of fear in my finals days. There was great uncertainty among the members of the faculty as great changes loomed before them. At the same time the demands of my home life had gone into hyper drive. My mother was growing weaker and requiring more visits to doctors. I was glad to have the extra day to be with her each week, but I was still drowning in responsibilities from every possible corner of my world. I didn’t seem to have enough time to give to anyone and so there were those who criticized me and questioned by devotion to either my work or my family. I was like one of those circus acts in which the entertainer rides a unicycle on a plank teetering on top of a barrel while juggling balls, spinning rings, and holding a ball on a stick that is held between the teeth while keeping a tiny hat on the head. I felt as though I was responsible for the entire world and doing a rotten job of maintaining any semblance of order. I know for certain that many people thought that I was slacking off when in truth I was operating with little sleep and no down time whatsoever. I managed to get everything done but felt that my efforts were not up to par.

I recall a day when I had left my mom at home alone even though she appeared to be far too ill to fend for herself. It was near the end of the school year and a feeling of chaos reigned over every aspect of my world. I was one of those women who was attempting to make everyone happy and comfortable, but I felt as though I was doing a very poor job. I noticed late that night that a particular project was due by midnight, but I was so exhausted that I decided to get some much needed sleep and rise early to attempt to sneak in my work. I was successful in refreshing myself for a short time and I finished the assignment only six hours later than it should have been sent. I congratulated myself on averting a tragedy and went off to meet a new day.

Later that afternoon I received a frantic call from the head of the schools. He demanded to know why my work had been late. With a measured calm I explained my situation in detail and apologized with great sincerity. It was in fact the first time in all of my years of working that I had ever missed a deadline. Unfortunately the man reminded me that there were never good excuses for being irresponsible. He upbraided me mercilessly without even once expressing any kind of concern for my mother or the people at my school whom I had been working so hard to shelter from all of the worry. He even admitted that the actual last day for the district to submit all of the work I had turned in was two days away, and that nobody would ever know that mine had been six hours late. Nonetheless rules were rules and I would have to live with the fact that I had ruined a student’s changes at receiving a large scholarship for college.

My own experiences as a working woman are not at all that unusual. A woman balances so many responsibilities that weigh heavily on her and create stresses that her male counterparts often do not understand. It is not uncommon at all for a woman to be the glue of her family as well as in her workplace. The caretaker and maternal instincts are so often deeply embedded in women’s DNA. While they may want to be rockstars at work there is a tug and pull between their careers and their families. Our society has yet to design ways to smooth out the challenges, and for those whose salaries do not translate to enough income to provide nannies, housekeepers, baby sitters, or proper daycare the stresses become enormous.

I have witnessed so many women reduced to tears because their work life and home life clashed. They broke down in frustration and felt that few understood or even cared about their dilemmas. When a woman is a single parent without the kind of safety nets that I so enjoyed, the plight becomes even more difficult. So while we applaud the women who have found ways to lead us into a new kind of world we have to remember those who are all alone in carrying the weight of a thousand different problems. We need to support them and share their burdens when we can.

What Is A Good Birth?

Published on November 27, 2018November 16, 2018 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

grayscale photo of baby feet with father and mother hands in heart signs — Photo by Andreas Wohlfahrt on Pexels.com

I vaguely remember studying heredity in biology when I was a fifteen year old sophomore in high school. I recall learning about the work of Gregor Mendel in which he unlocked the mysteries of producing various traits in peas. The study of genetics was as fascinating to me as it must have been to those who first began to unravel a bit more of how nature works. By the beginning of the twentieth century Charles Darwin had proposed his theory of evolution, Thomas Edison had begun to light up cities and towns, and Alexander Graham Bell was busy bringing a new form of communication to the world. There was great excitement among scientists and inventors as mankind progressed from the mostly rural horse and buggy days into a brave new world of automobiles and an industrial revolution. I suppose that it is only natural that a group of researchers began to consider the possibility of learning how to eliminate the weakest traits of humans by controlling genetic pairings much as Gregor Mendel had done with peas. With the exciting goal of creating stronger and more healthy people Sir Francis Galton describe a whole new science which he called eugenics, meaning “good birth.”

The original motives that propelled eugenics may indeed have been noble, even as they were naive. The driving thought was to prevent the suffering that so often plagues humans by weeding out the weakest traits deemed to be the result of heredity. Thus the eager scientists began to codify the pairings that appeared to create intelligence, beauty, good health, and athleticism while also identifying those that led to “feeble mindedness” and disease. Little consideration was given to the role of environment or to the consequences of classifying individuals as fit or defective. Sadly such practices advanced dangerous ideas like warehousing those with mental illnesses or learning difficulties in asylums away from the public. Some states even willingly passed laws allowing so called experts to determine which people needed to be sterilized for the sake of a “better” society. Invariably certain ethnicities were determined to be more perfect than others which lead to changes in immigration laws.

In retrospect it is easy to see how horrific the eugenics culture that arose actually was, but there was a kind of tunnel vision about the movement that was so enamored with the science that few bothered to consider the ethical consequences of the various studies. Surprisingly many of the theories were enthusiastically embraced even by individuals who were seemingly forward thinking like Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, Margaret Sanger, and Alexander Graham Bell. Eugenics conferences attracted renowned scientists from around the globe and behind the ivy covered walls of universities there was great excitement about the potential for improving the lot of the human race. Few appeared able to see the horror or that the idea of classifying human traits might lead to very dark places.

There were incidents that began to give pause to the excitement, including the case of a young woman who had been sent to an asylum because she was thought to be incapable of caring for herself due to her lack of mental acuity. Her mother had also been deemed unfit and was institutionalized as well. When the girl became pregnant and delivered a child judged to be as “feeble minded” as the other family members authorities decided to sterilize the her rather than risk bringing even more weak children into the world. The girl fought to prevent this atrocity and the case went all the way to the Supreme Court where Justice Oliver Wendall Holmes proclaimed that society had a duty to prevent the continuation of defective families that become a drain on national resources. She was sterilized!

Sadly such events were not isolated as state after state enacted laws that allowed medical personnel to determine which women were flawed enough to warrant sterilization. Individuals were judged by the appearance of traits like mental illness, addiction, ethnicity, and even poverty. Immigrants from places like southern or eastern Europe were thought to be a threat to America with their ignorance and “dirty” ways. Die hard eugenists believed that it was their duty to keep the best traits pure by limiting contact with those who seemed to be damaged.

It was not until a scientist named Hermann Joseph Miller from the University of Texas demonstrated the complexities of human heredity that the eugenics movement began to lose its luster. When news of the horrors of the Nazi concentration camps reached the world, its link with eugenics insured that all thoughts of meddling with human heredity were mostly put to rest. Eugenics became an embarrassment that was secreted away.

I shudder to think of how my own family might have been viewed through the lens of eugenics. My maternal grandparents were from one of the countries thought to be inferior. Had they not arrived in the United States before the immigration laws became more constricted I might not be writing these words today. My maternal grandmother had a mental breakdown as well and spent time in a state hospital in Austin. Luckily Texas was not one of the states allowing involuntary sterilizations or she may have been deemed a candidate for such a procedure. My paternal grandfather spoke honestly about his father’s alcoholism and his own. Until he took control of his addictions he was hardly the kind of person who would have been deemed worthy of fathering children.

My family demonstrates the folly of the so-called scientific judgements of eugenics. In spite of what appeared to be undesirable traits the descendants of my grandparents are some of the most intelligent and productive individuals in society. From those so called defective genes there are now medical doctors, teachers, lawyers, doctors of philosophy, mathematicians, scientists, engineers, business men and women, ministers, athletes. We put the lie to the very essence of eugenic arguments that some groups of people are so inferior that they must not be allowed to produce. Thankfully the scientific community regained its wits and turned away from the ignorance that it was propagating, but not before millions had suffered and even died.

The black mark of eugenics should give us pause. We should always question any ideas that claim legitimacy while admitting that there are still many unknowns. Just because those who are better educated insist on the righteousness of their ideas does not make them so. When our hearts tell us that something feels wrong, we need to listen. Sometimes our instincts are more in tune with reality than those propagating unproven theories. We always have to ask ourselves if generalities can be believed.

A Season To Be Thankful

Published on November 22, 2018November 13, 2018 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

It’s the time of year when we are reminded to be thankful. I suppose that we should not have to create a holiday to be aware of our blessings, and express gratefulness for having them. We all get rather busy with worldly pursuits and sometimes forget to stop long enough to take note of all the ways in which we have indeed enjoyed good fortune. So it’s good to somewhat force the issue now and again. When we stop to think we no doubt realize that our bounty is far more wondrous than we may ever have thought.

On a humorous note, I’m quite happy that there are fewer political ads filling my email. I still receive some that look ahead to the 2020 elections, but for the most part the onslaught has quieted. It’s good to be able to take a breath for now. I know that soon enough there will be primaries to contend with followed by the really big election. I’d be even more thankful I I were able to find a way to turn all of the noise off completely, but I suppose that we are long past the good old days when we did not have to hear much until just before voting.

I’m overjoyed by the cooler weather. I’m an unfortunate seventy year old who still has frequent hot flashes. According to my doctor I may either take hormones which may cause me to develop a serious disease, move to a place with a colder climate, or just put up with the heat that courses through my body several times each day. I have chosen the latter, so when it gets cold outside in my neck of the woods I enjoy the reprieve that the chilly weather affords me.

I am quite happy that I am a Texan. I may not like all of the political leanings of my state, but I still believe that it is one of the best places on earth to live. The people are always friendly even when we disagree with each other. The cost of living allows me to enjoy a lifestyle that is quite comfortable. The state is big and diverse in geography and people. All in all I can’t imagine ever moving from here. The positives far outweigh any negatives that I might consider. Besides, most of my friends and family are here which makes Texas almost perfect in my mind.

I’m thankful that at least for now my health is relatively good. I can’t see worth beans to read, but those cheap grocery store readers work great. My knees make me feel about eighty years old on wet days, but I still manage to get around. I just can’t do quite as much as I once did, but I enjoy walks and exercising at the gym. I just won’t be climbing mountains any time soon. All in all I have to praise God for my good fortune or at the very least for giving me some good DNA.

My mother taught me and my brothers to say a prayer each night telling God how great He was for giving us a warm bed and a roof over our heads. I sometimes have to pinch myself when I think of how safe and secure I feel in my home. I know that so many of my brothers and sisters in the world are not so lucky. I often wonder how I won a lottery in life that has given me so many comforts.

There were so many times when I was working that I would be frustrated and exhausted. I often counted the years until retirement on those occasions. Mostly though I enjoyed my work and felt a sense of profound purpose in my life. I know that not everyone who works for a lifetime feels that way, so I remember and appreciate my career, or vocation if you will. My working days were good and meaningful.

My friends are many and each and every one of them is unique and extraordinary. It’s remarkable that a girl like me who was once so shy and awkward somehow found an abundance of kindred spirits with whom to share my life. If I were to tell each of their stories and the joy that they have brought me, I would be writing blogs about them for the rest of my life.

Then there is my family. We are a wild and crazy lot, and we fiercely love each other. I am so proud to be a member of the Ulrich, Little, Fisk, Nias, Burnett and Gonzalez clans either by dent of birth or marriage. I love how our little family has grown and grown over time with new members adding so much joy to our circle. Nothing pleases me more than being with a great big gathering of all of the wonderful people that I get to call cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. Of course I won the jackpot when I met my husband, my best friend. Life with him has been fun, adventurous and most of all filled with mutual respect and love.

I have seen very hard times. I have lost people that I intensely loved. I have struggled financially, emotionally, and even physically. All the while I have known that the sum of the parts of my life have been greater than any of the problems that I had to face. For that I am thankful beyond all imagination.

Complacency Is Our Enemy

Published on November 19, 2018November 11, 2018 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I’ve always been drawn to books and television programs that feature true crime cases. I regularly record Dateline, Forty Eight Hours, and 20/20. I don’t watch them until I am performing some tedious task around the house like ironing. Then I fill the boredom with mysteries of murder and intrigue. Most of the episodes are somewhat similar in nature, and I have learned how to use my detective skills to put together the clues and determine whodunit. Once in a great while one of the features is different in nature, and it pulls on my emotions to the point of tears. Such was a recent Forty Eight Hours that told of a young man named Blaze Bernstein who was viciously stabbed to death.

Blaze was a happy and incredibly talented young man who lived in southern California with this loving and devoted parents. He was considered to be brilliant by both his teachers and his friends. His talents ran the gamut but it was writing that truly showcased his creativity. He also enjoyed cooking and being with and helping people. He was one of those young people who seemed to be heading for greatness when his life was so viciously ended.

At the same time that Blaze was impressing everyone that he met with his goodness and his potential, another young man was following a different path. He went to the same high school as Blaze but that is where the similarities end. This boy was filled with anger and hate. He became known for racist remarks that included vandalizing a copy of Raisin In the Sun with scribbles of the “N” word throughout. He drew pictures of guns and war, and made his classmates so uncomfortable that they whispered that he had the markings of a school shooter. Unfortunately nobody felt comfortable voicing any of their discomfort aloud. Eventually the hateful kid transferred to a different school, but everyone remembered the fear that he had engendered in them.

Blaze went on the an ivy league college where he was almost immediately a stand out student. After his first semester he returned home for the winter break, and all seemed well. Blaze of course was Jewish, and he had come out as gay, but none of that mattered to those who loved him, and they were many. During the break he got a message from the disturbed young man who had once been a fellow classmate. Without telling anyone where he was going, Blaze agreed to a meeting in a local park. He never came home.

Were it not for an unusually strong rainfall Blaze’s body might never have been found. He was buried under a tree in the park and a passerby noticed a muddy mound that seemed unnatural. Blaze’s body showed evidence of a raging knife attack. In the meantime, Blaze’s parents had done a bit of sleuthing and found a message on his computer indicating his intent to meet the former classmate in the park. When detectives descended on the suspect’s home they found a bloody knife with Blaze’s blood still on it, as well as blood in the perpetrator’s car.

The murder alone was so horrific that I cried several times during the episode, but even more frightening was that the killer had been a member of a neo-Nazi group called Atom Waffen that has chapters all over the United States. The goal of this organization is to literally destroy the United States of America. They celebrated Blaze’s death as a glorious victory with the double benefit of eliminating both a Jew and a gay man. The members are so violent that they consider the Alt Right to be a group of cowards who are not willing to bring about the level of anarchy needed to cleanse the world of all sorts of people who are undesirable in their minds. Most troubling is that they are gaining traction particularly with young white male teens who feel part of something important for the first time in their lives in joining ranks.

We all need to be fully aware that such groups exist, and we need to do our best to find ways to eliminate them. Nonetheless, Blaze’s parents have embarked on a positive and loving pathway to bringing tolerance into more hearts. They have established a foundation called Blaze It Forward in honor of their son. The goal is to encourage people to perform acts of kindness and to donate to causes that help people. They have been able to provide college scholarships and work with young people who feel disengaged. They have channeled their sorrow into love, and in the process have brought great meaning to Blaze’s short life in spite of his death.

I sobbed when I witnessed the courage and grace of Blaze’s parents, and found myself thinking once again of the importance of each of us working systematically to stoke the fires of compassion, acceptance and goodness in every corner of the world. We need to continually model the behaviors that we wish to see, and be on the watch for the wounded souls among us. I suspect that Blaze was such a good person that he may have agreed to meet his killer in the hopes of somehow changing his murder’s tortured soul. It was just the sort of thing that he was prone to do. His parents have followed his lead and focus their healing on good works. It’s something that we should all consider doing. At the same time we must speak out against hate groups and make everyone aware of their dangerous agendas. Complacency is one of our worst enemies that will only lead to more violence.