Category: Food

Bliss

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

18622147_10212589589995817_4316414510225396392_nI got my first real job when I was fifteen years old. Our family physician was looking for a summer replacement for the receptionist in his clinic. In spite of the fact that I looked about ten years old at the time he took a chance by hiring me. After that I worked for him each summer until I graduated from high school. I also did babysitting on weekends from the age of twelve, and I was particularly popular because I was always available since I was a dateless wonder in those days. My foray into the world of work continued unabated from those times until I finally retired a few years back. If you count tutoring gigs that I still do you might say that I have never completely stopped earning a paycheck, but I have definitely slowed down. Now I am still constantly on the go, but mostly in the form of trips here and there. I like to travel whenever the opportunity presents itself because I am fully aware of the reality that the day may come when I am no longer able to do so.

I take great delight in my little jaunts no matter how simple they may be. I find it quite exciting to leave my own backyard and venture to places that are far away from home. I’ve learned a great deal about humans and nature and how much we are actually alike from my travels. The people and places that I have encountered have generally been quite welcoming, and I discover something new each time that I explore new horizons. Still, I have learned that there is much to be celebrated right at home. I don’t have to hit the road to find the bliss of adventure which is often staring me in the face in my own hometown.

After travels to New Orleans and Cancun this summer I needed to recharge my batteries so to speak by sticking around Houston for a time. When I learned that my daughter was embarking on some landscaping and renovation projects around her house I eagerly volunteered to be part of the work crew because being a fixer upper is in my DNA. My ancestors were farmers and builders and somehow I feel a spark of genetic compatibility with them each time that I hold dirt in my hands or transform broken objects and rooms into things of beauty. In an unexplainable way I get as much joy out of such enterprises as jetting away to picturesque destinations.

Thus I found myself spending three days working the soil and puttering with the plants in my daughter’s backyard. I listened to the birds chattering and announcing my intrusion into their domain and heard the dreamy sound of a train whistle in the distance. Somehow I felt a kinship with all of the ancestors whom I had never met but felt myself to be so much like. I wondered what they would think of me and my family, their descendants who have done so well. We are all educated and part of the middle class while they were lucky to go to school beyond the fifth grade. They tilled the soil to make the food that would carry them through heartless winters while I was creating a tropical paradise beside my daughter’s pool. I thought of how far our family had come, and I felt a burst of pride and gratitude for the blessings that have been bestowed upon us as a direct result of the extreme sacrifices of my family members of so long ago.

A few days later I was feting my father-in-law with wine from the Texas hill country, shrimp from the waters around New Orleans and steak from our local HEB. It was an intimate gathering with just me, my husband, and my in-laws. We laughed and spoke of this and that and I thought of how much I loved being with them. In fact if I had to choose between a junket to Europe or an afternoon with them, there would be no contest. I would want to spend my time just enjoying their presence.

I suppose that I have reached that age of wisdom when I understand what true bliss actually is. It has little to do with great wealth or possessions and everything to do with treasuring the moments that we have whether they be simple or extravagant. Being truly and fully part of the passing parade that defines our lives is what matters most. In the long run all of the money on earth can’t buy contentment. It has to come from inside our hearts.

I fully understand that each of us needs certain material possessions to insure our well being, but our constant pursuit of greater and greater riches is a poor way to spend our time, especially when we consider that we never really know how much more of it we will have to enjoy the people and places that bring us joy. It is up to us to find pleasure no matter where we are, and it isn’t all that difficult to do.

My husband and I have taken to eating dinner outside each evening when the temperature cools down just a bit. We like to watch the wildlife that joins us during our nightly meals with great regularity. We enjoy the antics of a particular lizard whose injured tail has given him the dubious name of Stubby. We listen for the doves who greet us from the rooftop and the bluejays who fly from one tree to another. We catch quick glances of hummingbirds who flit around the yard so fast that we can barely keep up with them. Our little routine is a joyful experience that brings us together quietly and with little fanfare. It gives us the kind of bliss that we have learned to more fully appreciate.

I am no fool. I realize that I have been truly blessed and that there are those who never received the gift of time to rest and enjoy the fruits of a lifetime of labor. Even more so because I understand that truth, I am grateful for the small and the great pleasures that come my way. I have learned to find the exquisite beauty of a moment and it is a wonderful way to experience life.

Live Aqua

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

19113568_10212800199540924_6522367500719525467_nIt is difficult to believe that as late as the nineteen sixties Cancun was little more than a sleepy fishing village with fewer than two hundred inhabitants. Today it is one of the most popular seaside tourist towns in Mexico and boasts a central hotel zone of immense resorts that are visited by people from all over the world. The population of the city has ballooned to well over a million citizens since it was first envisioned as a vacation mecca in nineteen seventy. The economic engine of the area depends on a huge service industry workforce that caters to every need of those who come in search of sun, sand and relaxation. Cancun is a place where even the common man or woman is made to feel like royalty.

The city is located near the easternmost tip of the Yucatan Peninsula and is graced by white sandy beaches and the colorful waters of the Caribbean Sea. It was once home to the great Mayan civilization and not far from the hotels ruins from the height of Mayan influence remain even to this day. Many of the local people are descendants of that unique and fascinating society which was ultimately decimated by drought, famine, disease, war and the brutality of colonization.

Among the many resorts in Cancun is Live Aqua, the hotel where my husband and I stayed for a few glorious days. The cost is all inclusive meaning that all of the food and drink as well as the room are part of the contract. It is a five star world class destination with spectacular views from the luxuriously appointed rooms. Ours featured a private balcony that looked out on the Caribbean. It had a mini-bar that the staff kept loaded with drinks and snacks, replenishing the stock multiple times a day. The bed was amazingly comfortable with sheets as soft as silk. There were enough drawers and closet space to hold our belongings without crowding. The bathroom was as large as an en suite and had both an oversized bathtub and a huge shower. It was stocked with specially scented soaps and toiletries as well as large bath towels. There was no skimping on the kind of details that make such environs feel more special than most.

From the moment that we arrived we became honored guests. A young woman named Jessica gave me a hand massage and brought us a special iced tea to drink along with cold cloths to freshen us and take away the sting of the summer heat. Soothing music played in the background and exotic scents filled the air while another beautiful and energetic employee named Carla put herself at our service. True to her word she became our go to helper for the duration of our stay, making certain that we had exactly what we needed at all times.

Live Aqua features many restaurants all of which offer delicious food served with impressive care. Siete is a buffet that is open most of the day to serve breakfast, lunch and dinner. It has an almost limitless number food choices to satisfy virtually anyone’s tastebuds. The Hidden Garden features asian cuisine that is high end and quite tasty. Mb is perhaps the most elegant of the places to eat and has a somewhat formal dress code. Its three course dinner is a sumptuous feast featuring soups like the habanero cream that literally melts on the tongue and desserts that perfectly end a memorable meal. The hotel also offers also outdoor dining near the multiple swimming pools and the sea. There are both alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages everywhere being delivered by staff members who seem to have permanent smiles tattooed on their faces. No request goes unanswered at Live Aqua. The accommodations are extraordinary and the employees are trained to anticipate every possible need, all of which leads to a sense of well being and enjoyment.

For those who want a true resort experience there is also a spa offering everything from facials and massages to manicures and pedicures. A large and well equipped gym is available for those who want to maintain their exercise regimen. Chaise lounges with umbrellas line the pools and the beach as well as cabanas that are available for an extra rental fee. The best feature, however, is the beach itself. The water changes colors throughout the day ranging from a lovely sea green to aqua to an almost purple hue. The sand is soft and white and most of the time the sky is a deep and beautiful blue.

The government of Mexico is quite proud of this remarkable town and works hard to insure that tourists are safe from the cartels that have made visits to other parts of the country worrisome and unpredictable of late. There are guards even at the airport and great efforts are made to keep Cancun free of incidents that might discourage visitors from coming. There is a welcoming spirit everywhere one goes and so many events and interesting places that it would take days just to experience it all.

Live Aqua may at first glance appear to be a bit pricey but there are deals to be had. We found ours on Expedia but friends used other sources to get as much as forty percent off of the regular costs. It would be well worth the effort to search for special rates and then make a reservation for this truly remarkable place. I can promise that you will not be disappointed. I personally left feeling nourished and reenergized. The memories of my experience keep replaying in my head and bringing a smile to my face. I find myself mentally planning my next visit.

Quite frankly I arrived in Cancun doubtful that I would be all that impressed because I have experienced some very grand vacations in the past. I departed feeling as though my trip had indeed been one of my very best, not in small part due to the care and diligence of the staff at Live Aqua. I will be forever thankful for their friendliness, courtesy and never ending efforts to make my stay one worth every penny that I spent to be there. I look forward to the day when I return.

Of Swamps and Other Watery Delights

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

ultimate-swamp-adventuresWe crowded together under the canopy of a flat bottom boat along with visitors from all over the world. It seemed a strange thing to be able to do in the middle of a bustling suburb of New Orleans just minutes away from the French Quarter. Under the shadow of concrete levees and three huge pumps we slowly drifted into a swamp filled with delights from Mother Nature hidden from the raucous tourists who flock to this strange below sea level area.

Cypress trees shaded the water and provided perches for the egrets who lounged on the protruding knees. Imported lilies triumphantly grew in spite of human efforts to rid the area of the plants intent on choking out all other forms of life. Maples and other trees lined and shaded our passage way as we drew farther and farther away from the signs of civilization. The only sounds were that of the motor on our boat and the occasional squawking of the feathered population. It was a strangely heavenly place in spite of the alligators lurking under the surface.

Occasionally one of the sharp toothed critters surfaced in hopes of garnering attention and a marshmallow from our guide. They came in all sizes and personalities. Some seemed to smile at us and others growled to chase us away. Now and again the our calm was intruded upon by other groups riding in obnoxiously loud airboats complete with guests shouting and cheering in what seemed inappropriate behavior for the almost sacred feel of the swampy environ. I was always relieved that they sped away quickly, vanishing into the undergrowth of one of the tributaries.

It was a cloudy day which somehow made our journey more spectacular. Without warning the sky opened up and a heavy downpour beat out a cadence on the roof of our conveyance. The spray soaked our shoes and spattered on our legs. A group from California jokingly asked what the precipitation might be, feigning an ignorance born from months of drought in their home state. As the laughter receded the questions centered on what hurricane Katrina had done to the watery preserve on which we floated. Our guide explained that it had been saved from any damage other than that from the power of the winds that blew through the trees.

On what should have been a hot and humid day we were cooled by a steady breeze and the continuous falling of raindrops. Somehow it seemed to be perfect weather for our exploration. Thankfully ours was a rather quiet and respectful group of humans who displayed our awe for the glorious sights we were seeing with silent reflection.

All too soon our tour was over and we were disembarking with a far better sense of our own places in the grand scheme of things. Our guide had helped us to understand that we are in many ways only visitors on our planet and as such we have a responsibility to leave it as pristine as we possibly can.

Next to the business offering the swamp adventure we had just taken was an open air fresh seafood market. In stalls lining a huge parking lot there were bins filled with shrimp and crabs just delivered from the boats we had seen in the harbor. We were taken by the friendliness of the vendors and their knowledge of how to cook and preserve the lovely gifts from the sea. We purchased five pounds of exquisite shrimp from a woman named Jerri whose Cajun accent delighted us as much as her warm and open personality.

One of Jerri’s customers was a man who had lost most of what he had owned in Katrina. His wife and children had moved to Houston and never returned. He still lived and worked in New Orleans and commuted back and forth on weekends between the two cities. He was unceremoniously proud that his daughter had just graduated from high school with honors and had received a full scholarship for college. In between guiding us in the selection of the best shrimp and explaining how to use it, he boasted that his girl wanted to be a doctor and had the smarts to achieve her goal.

That night we boiled some of the shrimp and froze the rest in the manner prescribed by the helpful folks at the market. There was something so special about sitting in our trailer munching on the lovely pink seafood while reliving the day’s remarkable events with our grandson Ian. I can’t say that I have ever in my life tasted better shrimp but I wonder if the gloriousness of our experiences had somehow colored my impressions.

I’ve got more of the shrimp that we purchased just waiting inside my freezer for a planned celebration with my family later this week. I’m certain that as we enjoy it I will think back on that lovely day in the swamp when I somehow felt an unlikely kinship with the beauty and the glory of a place so unfit for human habitation that it had managed to survive even as people carved up the surrounding land, sometimes damaging it with their hubris. It was a hidden world where things were as they should be, and it felt just right. The seafood market also spoke of a different kind of era when vendors gathered in a public place to hawk their wares in a friendly and intimate kind of business agreement. There was time to talk and get to know one another while making deals that made everyone feel good. Somehow we had stumbled onto a perfect day that we will undoubtedly never forget.

A Memorial Day

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

american-flags.jpgThere was a time when Memorial Day was celebrated on May 31, regardless of when that day fell on the calendar. Thus it was in 1957. I had just completed the third grade after a rather adventurous year of moving from Houston to San Jose to Los Angeles to Corpus Christi and back to Houston. My father had begun working for Tenneco and we were living in a rented house in southeast Houston. My parents were thinking of closing a deal on a home in Braes Heights and we were all excited about meeting up with all of my aunts and uncles and cousins on Memorial Day at the beach.

My mom had spent most of May 30, preparing foods like potato salad and baked beans as well as her famous homemade barbecue sauce that my father would use on the burgers that he planned to grill the next day. We were beside ourselves with the anticipation of launching our summer vacation with our relatives. We knew that it would be a day of playing in the waves, fishing and crabbing on the pier, rollicking on the playground and listening to stories from our hilariously funny family members. It felt so good to be back in Houston after having been so far away for so many months.

My brothers and I went to bed before our father arrived home that evening. Mama explained that he had to complete a project that was due right after the holiday. He was a mechanical engineer and I was so proud of the work he did. I knew that if he failed to come home for dinner what he was doing had to be very important. I twisted and turned for a time but finally fell into a deep slumber with dreams of the fun that lay ahead. I did not awake until the sun peeked through the blinds in my bedroom window.

When I opened my eyes and acclimated myself to the new day I heard my mother talking on the phone in the hallway of our house. She sounded as though she was crying and her voice broke now and again. She seemed to be answering questions about my father and her answers were strange. She used past tense verbs which immediately alarmed me. Somehow without ever asking I had the idea that something dark and terrible had happened. I lay in my bed listening and grew ever more worried.

I finally crept into the kitchen searching for a glass of water because my anxiety had caused my throat to become dry. I was both surprised and alarmed to see my Aunt Valeria puttering about. Now I was convinced that this was not a good sign. I sat down at the kitchen table without saying a word while she nervously began attempting to explain to me that my father had died. It was difficult for her to get out the words and her eyes were filled with grief. I sat motionless and stunned as though I had not understood what she was saying, but truthfully I had figured things out before ever entering the room. I felt for my aunt because she literally did not have any idea what to do and I had no energy to help her. I suppose that we were both in a state of shock.

There have been few days in my life as terrible as that May 31, 1957. It has now been exactly sixty years ago since my life changed so dramatically. I was one person on May 30, and became someone completely different on May 31. I was only eight but I felt eighty, and in many ways forced myself to become an adult so that I might deal with the tragedy that so altered my world. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to lock myself in my room forever. I wanted to run away. I wanted to tell my father one last time how much I loved him. I wanted to scream at him for going away from us. My emotions were a jumble that left me bereft for months. I wanted to know exactly what had happened but never really would. I could only draw inferences and surmise what might have brought his brilliant life to such a crashing end.

Based on conversations with my mother and stories in the newspaper my best guess is that after working late my dad went out with some of his coworkers and had a few celebratory drinks. I suppose that my mother became angry when he finally came home and they had a fight. Perhaps he left in a huff to attempt to calm down. He decided to drive to Galveston. He was on his way back home on a freeway system that was still under construction. Instead of being on the main road he was on the feeder. There was a deep unmarked ditch directly ahead of his path. He was driving as though he was on a highway when he was in reality heading to a death trap. Too late his car slammed into the cavernous depression. The front of the auto was crushed and caused the steering wheel to slam into his chest stopping his beating heart. He died instantly and so did a little bit of everyone who loved him. It seemed such a meaningless end.

Of course I eventually adjusted to the reality of the situation but a profound grief lay under my thin veneer of courage. I was never quite the same after that. I worried more and often found myself avoiding adventures lest I be the source of more pain for my mother. I grew up almost instantly while somehow being in an eternal childhood. A piece of my heart would always be eight years old and every Memorial Day it would hurt again. I would experience a lifetime of questions and what ifs. I learned the importance of empathy because I had needed it so on that day and there were special people who provided it for me when I most wanted it.

I have friends and acquaintances who have also suffered unimaginable losses. I suspect that those who have not had such experiences don’t quite understand how we never really and truly get over the pain. Our wounds heal but now and again something triggers an ache. In my own case I have so much more that I want to know about my father. I would give anything to experience an adult relationship with him. I wonder if the images that I have of him are just a creation of my mind. I want to hear his voice for I can no longer remember it. It would be nice to share stories with him and see his reactions to my accomplishments. I would so like for my children and grandchildren to know him.

I have a friend whose husband died suddenly. She has young sons who are suffering. When I read of their hardships I literally feel their pain and cry for them. They are lucky to have a wonderful mom who allows them to express their feelings, so I believe that like me they will one day have the courage to move on with life. It is what we do even when we think that surely we too will die.

Sixty years is a very long time. I am almost twice the age my father was when he died. My memories of him are all pleasant for he was a very good man. They have sustained me again and again. It doesn’t really matter how or why he died, but only that he set the world afire while he was here. He loved fiercely and squeezed every ounce out of life. He left his mark and I have told stories of him all throughout the years. He still lives in me and my brothers and our children and grandchildren. Sometimes I see him in my brother Pat or my nephew Shawn. His life had great meaning and we continue to keep his spirit alive.

Keep On Trucking

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Burning-HouseOn Good Friday I was preparing food for our family’s Easter celebration when a heavy cloud of dark smoke suddenly poured from my oven. As I ran across the room to turn down the heat a small flame erupted in the bottom corner of the appliance. I called for my husband to come help with the situation and just as he raced down the stairs an inferno engulfed the entire cavity. We reached for the fire extinguisher that we store in our pantry but when we attempted to open the oven to apply the fire retardant it was latched shut. Our only option was to yank the appliance out of the wall just enough to create a small crack that allowed us to spray away. Luckily our efforts worked and the blaze was soon out leaving behind a rather nasty mess and an oven that was undoubtedly ready for the scarp heap.

In the same week my daughter was happily driving her new car when she approached a red light. Of course she halted as required but sadly the youngster behind her was so busy texting that he didn’t notice that the traffic was at a standstill. He plowed into the back of her auto with full force. Her beautiful car was a shambles of its former self.

Meanwhile across town a friend went to bed admiring the wood flooring that had just been placed in his home. He was proud of the dramatic and lovely change it had made in his abode. When he arose the following morning expecting to see the gleaming planks he was instead greeted to a most disastrous sight. Water covered the area that had looked so wonderful only hours before, ruined by the overflow from a toilet that had run all through the night.

Each of these incidents were maddeningly inconvenient and costly. It would take days, even weeks to repair the damage that was so unexpected, but eventually all would be set right once again. All three of us were fortunate to have the ability to overcome our disasters, unlike so many whose lives spin frighteningly out of control. While these examples were fixable they demonstrate the importance of keeping the events that occur in our lives in perspective.

My house didn’t burn down as it might have. My daughter walked away from her accident unscathed. My friend’s home was not flooded so badly that it was rendered uninhabitable. Sadly I know people who have faced far worse.

One of my aunts who was in her nineties at the time watched helplessly as her home burned to the ground, eliminating everything that she owned including irreplaceable family heirlooms and treasures. I have known several people whose loved ones have died in car accidents, including myself. I have friends who used to live in New Orleans who came home to total devastation after hurricane Katrina. Such losses are indescribable. They haunt the psyche for years and leave scars that tend to quietly inflict pain. 

We all want to think that we have a modicum of control over our lives but reality demonstrates time and again that the possibility of the unexpected happening is always there. At any given moment our lives might be thrown into utter chaos. We don’t dwell on such facts because we would be immobilized with fear if we did. Instead we go about our daily lives sometimes sweating a bit too much about the small stuff instead of focusing on our blessings. We take the food on our tables for granted. We forget to tell our family members and friends how much we love them. We grumble and complain.

Of course my husband and I were upset over the prospect of having to purchase a new oven and repair the damage to our cabinetry. We certainly might have used the money in other ways, but once the smoke had settled so to speak we began to realize how fortunate we were. Had we both been in another room our kitchen might have been far more damaged, perhaps even destroyed. In another time in our lives we might not have had the money to purchase a new oven and would have had to scramble to find a way to fix the problem. As it was, we had just received a tax refund that essentially covered the costs.

My mother lived on the economic edge for most of her life but she nonetheless always remained optimistic. She used to brag that God loved her so that He somehow took care of every problem that arose for her. Such was her faith that she told us when we were children that she had a money tree from which she would pluck funds when they were needed. She herself lived without an oven for several years because hers had quit functioning and she did not have the funds to get a new one. Rather than complaining she made do until she had accumulated enough to get a new one. She joked that by the time she finally had a way to bake again she realized that she really didn’t need to roast or broil. She didn’t allow herself to worry over things that were in reality inconsequential.

The truth is that there are people on this earth who will never have an oven or a car or a wooden floor. They live in places racked by famine, disease and war. Their lives are so out of their own control that they only have the freedom to exist, and sometimes even that liberty is taken from them. We on the other hand enjoy luxuries that we take for granted, worrying over problems that in reality don’t matter as much as we may think.

I am an admitted control freak even though I have learned time and again that so much of what happens is beyond my reach. The only thing over which I have total power is my own attitude. I can choose to stew over the randomness of occurrences or I can choose to roll with the punches and take the actions needed to set myself aright. There is little point in crying once the milk is flowing across the floor.

I take heart from the courage of the incredible people that I know such as the mother whose six month old son was diagnosed with leukemia who kept a smile on her face throughout her years long ordeal. I think of the friend whose daughter was killed by a drunk driver. She has channeled her grief into counseling others and spreading healing by sharing her own story. I marvel at the woman who had to reinvent herself after hurricane Katrina at a time in life when she should have been retiring comfortably. I am daily inspired by a former student whose brother was murdered and her fight to bring justice for him and all individuals marred by violence. I think of a dear friend who daily cares for a husband sidelined by a severe stroke and dementia. All of these individuals have risen from the ashes of their circumstances in triumph. They have found new meaning for their lives and new appreciation for even the smallest of blessings just as my mother always did.

I know not what challenges will come my way. None of us ever do. My only hope is that I will find the inner strength and positive attitude that will allow me to keep my footing and keep on trucking along. It is after all the best that we might do regardless of the circumstances.