Category: Humor

Truth Is Stranger Than Ficton

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

authorsI’ve often thought of writing a novel. I have a number of ideas but honestly make believe is not as crazy as real life. Sometimes you just can’t make up stuff that is as good as reality. I’m a big fan of House of Cards but often it feels as though the writers have jumped the shark. I mean, really, the plot seems a bit far fetched but then so does our present political scene. Nobody would believe the story that is unfolding if I were to write a fictional story about it and yet it is the truth.

Imagine my creating a character who never held political office, had been married multiple times and was known as an audacious blowhard. Would anyone truly consider such a person as a potential candidate for President of the United States? What if I further demonstrated his lack of manners by writing a scenario in which he boasted of his predatory sexual conquests? Who in their right mind would be able to accept my premise that he had a rabid following of supporters?

Even more unlikely is the idea that his opponent would be a rather uncharismatic older woman who has a reputation for sometimes bending the truth and a problem with keeping matters of national security safe. Nonetheless like her buffoonish counterpart she has a loyal following who refuses to see her flaws.

Add to the mix accusations of sexual assault by the fledgling politician and a probe by the FBI into the dealings of the more established candidate and you have a freaky story that seems impossible to accept. I would be a fool to even consider writing such a plot. I suspect that I would be laughed out of the ranks of serious authors unless I somehow managed to sell it as humorous satire, which makes the reality of our present election so strange.

I keep thinking that I will wake up one morning only to find that everything has been only a very bad dream. Out of the millions of people who might have thrown their hats into the ring, how is it possible that we are faced with such a dilemma? Has being president become such an onerous job that only a few souls have the courage to even try? After all we tend to try to destroy the reputations of anyone who even considers the possibility of running. Think of the horrid accusations that have been hurled at George W. Bush and Barack Obama. Recall the terrible things said about Mitt Romney and John McCain. Who would want to even put the members of their family through such a wringer? Those ultimately willing to endure the verbal beatings are far stronger than I would ever be.

I’ve often joked that I would make a great President of the United States. Still, I think of the many ways that my sterling character might be defamed. Someone would surely find the photo of me sitting in the big middle of a gathering of the Students for a Democratic Society back when I was a freshman in college. That group went on to have a rather unhealthy reputation. I’m certain that there would be those who would suggest that I am a Communist or rabble rouser at heart.

Then there is the matter of mental illness. Both my mother and my grandmother suffered from mental breakdowns. Would my quirkiness suddenly become a sure sign of my own disorder? There would certainly be whispers that I am unfit to hold such a demanding office even though I have never personally shown any signs of having the same genetic predisposition to nervous diseases as my ancestors.

I have surely made someone angry along the way. That person will suddenly appear with a story of my anger or unfairness or other such complaint. What kind of dirt would anxious reporters find on me or members of my family? Would that quarter that I stole when I was seven become a national scandal? How would I be able to explain that I returned it four fold and confessed to my sin at least seven times?

There would no doubt be infractions that I don’t even remember. Such is the way of modern day campaigns. I doubt that I would last more than a month without withdrawing my name from the contest. I enjoy my privacy far too much. I really don’t want to become an international pin cushion in the blood sport of politics.

I suppose that there has always been a bit of nastiness associated with holding the highest office in the land. Mrs. Lincoln was all but driven insane by a press that never liked her. They had no pity when she lost her children and witnessed the murder of her husband. The public was happy enough to rid themselves of her when she quietly went away to live out her remaining days in poverty and sadness. We have a very bad habit of being rather cruel to those who live or want to live in the White House.

I don’t know where all of this drama will ultimately lead. I suppose we will have a few answers in about a week but I fear that the story will drag on for years regardless of the outcome. I don’t know about everyone else but I am a bit tired of the anger. I much prefer fairytale endings but doubt that we will see one of those for some time. I’d like to think that as people we might choose to be a bit nicer when it comes to our political thinking but that doesn’t make for much of an exciting story and right now everyone who writes is hoping for the big surprise. This election certainly doesn’t disappoint anyone who revels in irony and uncertainty. I truly wonder where it will all lead. At this point nothing seems to be out of the question. My usual ability to predict the way that people will react is out of whack. I’m just as confused as anyone. God help us!

The Horror

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

halloweenWhen I was kid Halloween was a rather simple event. I’d put a witch hat on my head or cut some holes in an old white sheet and masquerade as a ghost. My costumes were made from the cloth of my imagination and whatever I had on hand. My mother would save a brown paper bag from her grocery shopping that I used to hold the goodies that I collected from my neighbors. If I was feeling especially inspired I’d take the time to draw some jack-o-lanterns on it with my box of crayons. Mostly though I’d just grab a sack and head out to trick-or-treat with my friends. It was all so uncomplicated and innocent back then. We trusted everyone and were usually right in our belief that we would be safe. There were a few urban tales that warned us of razor blades and needles inserted into apples so I always threw such offerings into the trash but mostly there was little mischief other than our childish attempts to scare each other with ghost stories and such.

When my daughters were young the whole Halloween tradition became a bit more elaborate. I had to purchase costumes for them rather than using what we had around the house. Most of the time they chose the one size fits all flimsy outfits that came in a box along with a big plastic mask that engulfed their tiny faces. The costumes fit like sacks and were usually torn to shreds by the end of the evening because they were made from a substance that resembled paper. The masks were so hot that they usually ended up in the trick-or-treat bags that were a bit fancier than the grocery sacks of my youth. Fear of real horrors became all too real when the “Candyman” from Deer Park, Texas poisoned his son with a pixie stick one Halloween. After that many parents abandoned the old time honored ritual of gathering goodies from house to house. Churches, schools and neighbors began to hold Halloween parties instead. There were some years when hardly any kids came to my house.

Today Halloween is bigger than ever. In some ways it has become as important in the holiday annals as Christmas and Thanksgiving. Entire sections of stores are devoted to displays of decorations, costumes and an array of treats. The children who come to my door wear outfits worthy of a high budget movie. They are decked out in full makeup with wigs and intricately detailed clothing. They bear baskets and sturdy plastic containers rather than the paper bags of old. Sometimes they carry flashlights to help them navigate in the dark. The homes that they visit are decorated with lights, pumpkins, spiderwebs and inflated monsters. Eerie sounds echo across neighborhoods transforming them into spectacular and frightening happenings. The children come by the droves along with their parents who more often than not are also dressed in ornate designs.

This weekend there will no doubt be Halloween parties all across America and most of them will be for adults. I’m not quite sure when grownups laid claim to celebrations that had once been only for children but it is now big business. Perhaps our world has become so uncertain and complex that we enjoy playing make believe if only for a brief time. We dress up and poke fun at our society. We laugh and feel the freedom that we once knew as children. Halloween provides us with an opportunity to display our creativity and an excuse to just be silly like we were in the times before we had to deal with so many responsibilities and so much stress. With the craziness of the election season I suspect that this will be an especially “bigly” year for Halloween. There are so many people and ideas that we might poke a bit with our satire.

This year there are new wrinkles in the festivities. Some people worry that their costume choices might offend. We are told that we should be careful not to appropriate a culture that is not ours. I suspect that being a hobo like I once was might be considered a slam toward those who are poor. I’ve read that some colleges are advising students to avoid wearing sombreros or demonstrating a lack of empathy in choosing what they will wear. It is a new complication that is sure to create some storms of controversy and raise questions before the weekend is over.

It used to be that those who attended Catholic school had a singular advantage associated with Halloween because the following day was All Saints Day, a holy day of obligation that was traditionally a holiday in the parochial schools. Now the students simply go to Mass in the morning and carry on as usual for the remainder of the school day. There is no more holiday in honor of the beloved saints. Traditions are changing all the way around.

I still prefer the simpler ways of approaching Halloween. I have put a jack-o-lantern on my front porch and even have a few lights along the sidewalk but that is as far as I plan to go. I’ll stock up on chocolate bars and other sweet treats and spend a few hours enjoying the children who come to my door. Other than that Halloween will come and go much as it has for most of my life. It is a fun but minor celebration in my annual routines. I sometimes wear a special t-shirt with glittery pumpkins that I purchased at Walmart for five dollars one year just to get into the spirit of things and I almost always find a horror movie to watch, but mostly Halloween is a sign that my truly favorite time of year is near.

I suspect that for most of us nothing is going to be as scary as the coming election. We are all holding our breaths in anticipation of what is coming next. It’s probably good that there is a way to ease our tensions just a bit whether we join friends in ridiculous outfits, gather with laughing children or just shut ourselves away to escape into a world of zombies or haunted houses. Sometimes we’ve just got to get away and Halloween is the perfect vehicle to distract us from the terrors of reality. Here’s hoping that your own way of enjoying the day is “huge,’

Kit Cat

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

kitcatclock-black-white-bgIt was an ordinary night when I walked into my kitchen to find a most disturbing scene. There strewn on the floor were eyeballs, a little black tail, and the broken body of my Kit Cat clock. My little treasure had somehow fallen from its place on the wall. I was so upset that I called for my husband to clean up the debris that lay from one end of the room to another. It was apparent from the number of pieces that my beloved little clock was forever gone. Even though the time piece was only an object made of plastic and a few carefully placed wires I was filled with great sadness.

To be honest I truly understand that there are far graver events unfolding in the world than the destruction of a silly little clock. I see the images of suffering, war and injustice on a daily basis and it most definitely bothers me. I know of family members and friends who are enduring frightening and painful illnesses or even the tragedy of loss of a loved one. A battered clock is hardly in the same league as these very real kinds of problems but that clock represented far more to me than might at first glance be evident.

Around the time that I was four or five years old my father went to Rochester, New York on a business trip. It was a rather lengthy affair and I recall feeling a bit lost without his presence around our home. My mom seemed distracted and lonely while he was gone. Somehow our lives were off kilter without him. Then as suddenly as he had left he reappeared bringing sunshine back to our days, along with a few gifts that he had carefully chosen for us. Among them was a delightful clock that made us laugh. It was one of the original Kit Cat clocks, a humorous black cat with a grin as impish as the one that my daddy so often wore.

My father proudly mounted the smiling creature on the kitchen wall where it kept up with the time and smiled at us with those great big cat eyes scanning one side of the room and then the other. A long black tail swung in unison with the tempo of the tick tock of time, telling us that life was going to continue merrily on now that our dad was back home. It was the perfect gift from our perfect dad and I so loved that cat who was as unique and funny as my father.

Our Kit Cat clock traveled with us wherever we moved. It was part of our family. It went all the way to California and back with us and maintained its vigil on the wall through births and illnesses and seasons. It was ticking away on the morning that I learned of my father’s death. It reminded me so of him that I found comfort in watching it continue with its duties even as I wondered why the whole world didn’t stop to share the pain that I was feeling.

The clock soldiered on with us and as I grew I found it to be less and less enchanting until the time came when I hardly noticed it anymore. At some point it must have finally quit operating properly because it disappeared from the wall. I never thought to ask my mother what had happened to the clock. It was just a silly old thing that could never have lasted forever. Besides, I would always have the memory of my dad grinning like a Cheshire cat as he so proudly presented his find to our family so many long years before. That was really all that I would ever need.

Just as we always do I went on with living, rarely thinking of the clock until one day I walked into a store and there on the wall was a display of Kit Cat clocks being as silly as ever. I think that my husband was a bit mystified at the sheer pleasure that I derived from seeing those happy little timekeepers. When I told him the story of the clock that had once lived in the memories of my childhood he listened with his usual respect for my quirks. Somehow he managed to realize that the clock had been a link to my father in a time when I most needed to remember how much delight my daddy had always brought to our family.

When Christmas came later that year I excitedly opened my gifts to find among them a brand new Kit Cat clock to hang on my wall. I was overjoyed and touched that my sensitive spouse had understood the significance that the little cat held for me. We began a new tradition with our clock that extended through the marriages of my daughters, the births of my grandchildren, and the years of change and growth in our family.

The clock kept perfect time but over the years the eyes and tail only moved sporadically, sometimes standing still for months and other times suddenly swinging back and forth as steadily as a pendulum. It still brought me the kind of joy that I had felt as a child. When I looked at that grinning little face I thought of how lucky I have been to be loved by a father that I hardly had time to know and a husband who has been at my side for over four decades. The clock was part of my history, a treasure that meant more to me than I might ever explain. When I saw it shattered into pieces the other night I felt a genuine sense of devastation. It was as though a part of me had suddenly been destroyed. I had to call my husband to dispose of the debris because I was unable to face that grisly task.

If I have learned anything in my life it’s that distressing things happen and we somehow find ways to carry on with our journeys. After briefly grieving that my clock was gone I came to my senses and logged in to Amazon where I found a replacement to order. My new Kit Cat clock will arrive sometime next week to bring a new generation of joy and laughter into our lives. It will watch over our celebrations and comfort us in times of sorrow. It will stand as a sentinel and a reminder that sometimes all we have to do is smile and be a little silly to get from one moment to the next.

Happy Fall, Ya’ll

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

first-day-of-autumn-weather-for-all-love-season-3There is a chill inside my home this morning. The air is filled with the aroma of pumpkins and spices. Colors of red, orange, yellow and gold catch my eye wherever I look. It is the first day of autumn, my favorite time of year. But wait! The high today will be ninety two degrees here in Houston. The brisk temperature that I feel has been artificially produced by my trusty air conditioner. The lovely autumnal smell is only the product of a Yankee candle. I see fall colors thanks to the collection of artificial items that I place around my home at this time each season. Were it not for Hobby Lobby and Michael’s fall in Houston would look exactly the same as the middle of July. I have to conjure a great deal of imagination to realize that a change of seasons is actually taking place.

I just returned from a week long stay in the mountains near Rocky Mountain National Park. There I enjoyed the true splendor of autumn produced by Mother Nature at her finest. The landscape was awash with spectacular colors that seemed almost to have been painted on the leaves that fluttered enticingly in the wind. I wore my sweaters during the day and snuggled under a warm blanket at night, all without the aid of mechanical devices designed to keep my environment comfortable. The clean smell of pine overwhelmed my olfactory senses. The world around me seemed to be balanced and as perfect as it ought to be. The cycle of seasons was operating so perfectly that even the animals understood what time of year we were entering. It felt so right.

I love the fall but have had to manufacture it of late because I live in the south near the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. There are actually people who begin a yearly pilgrimage to my part of the country at about this time. They are fleeing the coming ravages of winter which will most surely visit their northern homes. They live like snowbirds who seek warmer climes in which to survive the harshness of the coming days. I see their trailers in the RV parks and their foreign license plates from places like Minnesota, Nebraska and Michigan. They flee from the very weather that I have never really seen and would so love to experience.

Each year as my fall birthday approaches in the middle of November I am just as likely to be wearing shorts and flip flops as one of my sweaters that never wears out. I only replace my winter gear when it becomes hopelessly out of style. I rarely use it enough to tarnish its sheen of newness. Unless I travel to one of the colder places it often seems like overkill to even take my coats from the closet where I store them all year long.

There used to be a sliver of fall and winter here in Houston. When I was a child I recall enjoying seventy degree days in October and as November rolled around we always lit the pilot light on our heater because we were bound to have some cold nights. I suggest that all climate change deniers spend some time where I live to realize that it appears to get warmer and warmer every single year, a fact that worries me intensely. Even my rabidly conservative but science-oriented brother admits that we are indeed experiencing a worldwide warming trend that is having a dramatic effect on our very existence. We humans are changing the rhythm and flow of nature and ultimately the results will be devastating if we don’t agree to take measures to slow the tide of a warming atmosphere that is artificially creating a climate that brings us more and more severe weather patterns and natural disasters. The data doesn’t lie no matter how much we humans choose to ignore the facts.

I just drove through the heart of what had been the dustbowl during the Great Depression of the twentieth century. The drought that overtook parts of Colorado, Oklahoma and Texas would certainly have caused many problems for the farmers who lived there but the situation became even more dire than it needed to be because they had interrupted nature. The people had plowed over the native grasses designed to anchor the soil to the earth. Without those simple little plants the winds carried the dirt high into the sky like great filthy clouds. There were continual storms of dust rather than rain that often made it impossible to see or even to breathe. The desperate people lost their incomes, their lands and sometimes even their lives. It was only when proper planting methods were eventually introduced that the area began to slowly come back to life. Sadly the ravages of that era are still apparent in some small towns where buildings on main streets are empty and populations continue to decline.

There are scientists among us who have studied such things. They understand the soil, the insects, the plants, and the weather. They are able to explain the symbiotic nature of our world. It is time that we listened to their warnings or the day may come when we humans no longer have the ability to create the comforts that we seek. We may simply have to endure the assaults from nature that will most surely come if we choose to ignore the warning signs that are all around us.

I love the natural flow of the life cycle. I enjoy being as one with the earth, a visitor no more important to the way of things than the tiniest bug. I don’t want my footprint to disturb the earth but I instinctively know that it does. I want to do my tiny little part to make my presence a bit less destructive. I suppose that if each of us were to begin just one form of conservation on a daily basis our collective efforts would begin to make a small dent in the problems that are making our earth sick. Instead of ridiculously asserting that climate change is a myth our politicians need to join together in crafting a global plan that will be as painless as possible to people everywhere. We must use our natural human abilities to find acceptable and forward thinking answers without destroying livelihoods. We have done it before and I have little doubt that we might do it again.

So on this first morning of autumn I intend to enjoy my favorite time of year with a bit of gardening if I can manage to endure the heat. At my age there is always an uncertainty that I will see another September 22 so I have to seize the day with all of the gusto that I am able to muster. With all of those fall wreaths showing up on the doors of my neighbor’s homes pumpkin cheesecake can’t be far behind and what is better than that? Happy Fall to those of us north of the equator and Happy Spring to everyone below. The world is still a wonderful place. Let’s keep it that way.

99.9%

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

test_1024x1024AT&T has been running a commercial that features a family that has suddenly lost Internet coverage. They panic, pray, spy on more fortunate neighbors whose wifi is still operating. The seconds and minutes tick by with no relief. Their lives are turned upside down. The ad suggests that if only they had invested in service from AT&T there is a 99.9% probability that this horrific dilemma would never have occurred. The moral of the sad little tale is that we must all be prepared lest we too suffer the indignities of losing our electronic contact with the world.

I always laugh a bit when I see that ad because of late I have been losing my AT&T Internet at least once almost everyday. The suspension of service never lasts more than a minute so I mostly remain calm until the signal returns. Still a fear lurks in the dark recesses of my soul that one day the interruption will last for hours or even an entire day. What would I do now that I am an electronic junkie? Where would I get my fix? Would I become as distressed as the hapless individuals in the advertisement that so amuses me?

Without warning last week I had to learn what measure of a woman I am. I was dog sitting at my daughter’s home when the unthinkable happened. The AT&T Internet went dead. I waited for a few minutes and soon began receiving messages about broadband errors, I was concerned but not totally distressed. I rebooted the system and sent a message to my daughter who was camping in Yellowstone National Park. I busied myself with other pursuits while expecting to be back in business before long. When evening fell and there was still no sign of a repair I began to actually worry but felt determined to ride out the temporary annoyance by reading and watching the local t.v. using an antenna. After all, I grew up in an era of black and white television, a single landline telephone shared by the entire family, libraries with real books, and newspapers delivered to my front yard with only slightly stale news. I understood what it was like to live the simple life without 24/7 contact with the outside world.

I retired to my dreams that night feeling rather superior. I had endured almost an entire day unplugged and it felt good to know that I had not become so spoiled and weak that I would freak out over loss of the Internet. I was not like that pathetic family in the ad.

I awoke the following morning confident that some noble repairman had taken care of the problem during my slumbers. When I realized that I was still offline a momentary panic seized me. I wondered how I would be able to post my blog. I have a hot spot on my phone but I had already received a message indicating that I had used all of my data for the period and I didn’t want to incur anymore additional payments than necessary. After a few minutes my rational side had kicked in quite nicely and I had decided that a nice trip to the local Starbucks would solve my problem.

As I drove through the neighborhood I noticed an AT&T truck parked next to a big box. A man was working away and I heaved a sigh of relief. Surely this meant that the problem would be solved. I relaxed while sipping my tea in the lovely atmosphere of Starbucks. I uploaded my blog and internally patted myself on the back for being so smart. I imagined the universe of online fun that awaited me when I returned to enjoy the once again functioning Internet system but it was not to be.

My hopes and dreams were shattered as soon as I attempted to connect my laptop and my phone to wifi upon my return to the house. The service was still as dead as a doornail. There would be no Netflix in my immediate future. I was stranded on an electronic desert and it felt abnormal. My resolve began to crumble as I finally understood that I was caught in the .1% dead zone of AT&T service. I was the statistic. Somebody had to forfeit their Internet to mathematically support their boast and I realized that I was the lucky loser.

Somehow I found ways to revert back to my old methods for doing things. I used the necessity of visiting different venues to upload my blog as a kind daily entertainment. I enjoyed the quiet of the house and found that I was far more relaxed than normal without the constant news updates that I usually receive. When there was nothing worth watching on the television I explored the area, read, and took walks. I soon established a routine devoid of devotion to social media and the noise of the constant chatter that so dominates the world. It wasn’t a disaster after all. It was actually quite nice. I reached a point when I no longer even checked to see if the service had resumed for fear that I might find it fully repaired. I kept to the slower pace that a lack of media allowed me to enjoy.

I’m back home now. My own Internet is running smoothly. I won’t have to leave to upload my blog and I have hundreds of emails to peruse that I have ignored for over a week. Somehow I am more afraid of reentering the cyber world than being without all of those distractions. I found that my days were far more productive when I wasn’t checking for updates every few minutes. I noticed the loveliness of silence. I played with the dogs and gave them my full attention. I read three books in the space of five days. I actually felt more unencumbered. I had escaped from the bondage of comments and tweets. I was no longer hypnotized by worthless offerings from the television. It was an exhilarating experience.

I’ll be the first to admit that these are the good old days with regard to the tools available to us for communication, research, writing, and entertainment. The Internet has literally revolutionized the way we think and act. I would never want to return to the limits that once defined our possibilities and yet I worry that we have not yet properly adapted to our brave new world. Instead of using the Internet for our benefit I fear that we sometimes allow it to use us. We have ironically fallen into a kind of hypnotic trance orchestrated by soundbites, popular culture, mindless and all too often incorrect information. Our newspapers have become purveyors of online slide shows and our journalists seem more concerned with “gottcha” moments than honest reporting of the news. The online world is falling all over itself playing a competitive game of outrageousness. The cyber universe has us all ginned up and the consequences have at times been disastrous.

I wonder if terrorism and hate would be as rampant without online sources keeping anger alive and well. Would our children be playing healthy outdoor games and reading more without the Internet and its constant stream of questionable entertainment? Do we really need to know things instantly? Do we even care what commentators think? Are we using the power of the Internet as effectively as we should?

The world is changing so rapidly that we rarely have enough time to adapt to the most recent ways of doing things before we are faced with even newer innovations. The pace of our inventiveness is moving faster than our reaction time. We really do need to step back from the insanity now and again. It gives us a fresh perspective as to what we really most need. It’s nice to know that our electronic world is humming 99.9% of the time but we each have the power to pull the plug whenever we wish. Sometimes it’s a good thing to tune out and tune in to what we really need.