Category: Local News

Fact or Opinion?

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I usually listen to the radio whenever I’m driving. Rather than being a distraction, it is a habit that keeps me more alert. I tend to prefer talk radio but I’ve grown weary of political tirades, so my go to station of late is NPR. I enjoy the informative programming through which I learn lots of interesting facts. A few evenings ago I was returning home when I happened upon a newscast from BBC that lasted for most of the forty five minutes that it took me to reach my destination. I found myself feeling enchanted by the way in which the reporting was done. Refreshingly it was simply a recitation of factual events with no hint of editorializing. The news stories moved along so quickly that the narrator was able to provide information on literally dozens of world events of which I had little or no prior knowledge. By the time I drove into my garage I felt rather knowledgeable about situations from Turkey to Kenya to Myanmar. I found myself wondering why our own national news programs spend so much time on far less important situations, and why the reporters feel the need to discuss and analyze what is happening rather than just telling us about the events of the day without commentary. There is a certain irony that British broadcasting was so succinct and fact filled while ours now seems intent on creating controversy and inciting emotional responses. Perhaps we have brought this trend on ourselves because at the end of the day news stations are businesses and businesses must make money which means that they need high ratings. In other words we are pandering to the state of broadcast journalism by tuning in and accepting the politicization.

It used to be that news stories were based on “Ws and an H,”  such as who, what, where, when and how. Opinions were the domain of editorial pages and programs. We expected to hear differing points of view on Meet the Press, but the nightly news was more often than not an exercise in providing only information. We thought of remarks intended to change our minds as being propaganda. Now we endure personal attitudes in virtually every version of the news perhaps with the exception of local programming which still tends to follow a fact driven format. It’s enough to drive us all mad and it tends to encourage the airing of controversial stories over those that simply provide needed information, and then allow each individual to add their own personal spin to what they have heard.

I really believe that we need to more carefully delineate fact from opinion. We teach children this important concept from the time that they are very young, but then as adults we fall into the trap of accepting someone else’s thinking as factual. As a society far too many of us are blurring the line between actual news and editorializing. This has created culture wars and idealogical divisions that are unnecessary and has led to a tendency to defend points of view with false narratives and soundbites. In other words we appear to be living in an epoch that actually trivializes the news and our politicians are taking full advantage of the situation.

I have listened to old school radio programming in which Edward R. Murrow used words to describe world situations. His elegant use of the English language was almost poetic, but it also provided vivid mental pictures of what was actually happening, not how he felt about what he was seeing or whether or not such things should have been happening. That was the right way to present the news. In fact it should always be up to the listener or viewer to fill in the blanks of feelings and emotions, not the person who is on the scene giving us an update.

I actually enjoy the kinds of programs that provide an editorial analysis of current events, especially those that strive to provide alternate points of view. They give us an opportunity to think critically as long as they are transparent and willing to give each side of an argument an uninterrupted platform. I don’t mind at all when the guests debate one another, but I prefer for the host to be a moderator, not someone who joins in the fray. All too often these venues devolve into efforts to change minds and to advocate for one side over the other. That’s when I tend to sigh and then tune out. I suppose that I’d prefer just watching something like a Lincoln Douglas debate to feeling as though my intelligence is being insulted by biased reporting.

It’s funny how we teach students how to spot propaganda and then we unwittingly fall for it time and time again. We expect politicians to engage in such shenanigans because it is the nature of the beast, but when those charged with providing us with the news twist information to fit personal agendas I cringe. I believe that most people have enough common sense to decide for themselves how to react to the events that take place each day. None of us need interpretations. When those things happen there should always be full disclosure that what is being reported is a personal opinion rather than a fact.

I doubt that things will change anytime soon, so I will have to find alternative methods of seeking the truth. I would love for our American newscasters to learn a bit from the BBC. I think we would all be the better for getting more information about not only local and national events, but also the goings on around the world. We really do need to know about the problems in Myanmar and the elections in Liberia. We don’t live on an island and what happens in lands far away will indeed have an effect on things here. Ours is a global economy and we share a political symbiosis with everyone. We really are better served when we are informed. While we may be all abuzz about athletes kneeling for the national anthem, we also need to understand what the effects of famine in another part of the world will be on all of us. The truth is that we are spending far too much time being manipulated into arguments with one another when far more pressing issues are facing us. While we are being mesmerized by indignation over an individual’s sexual sins, there are citizens among us who are struggling with real problems that the infighting is preventing us from solving. While the media and the politicians are stirring up our anger and emotions they get away with making us believe that there is always somebody else to blame for the inaction that leaves so many in a state of distress.

We’ve got real work to do and it will only be done when we learn the facts and then decide how to address them. We can no longer afford to be taken in by propaganda masquerading as truth. Perhaps its time to quit rewarding the news programming that has so lost its way by providing them with the ratings they so need. If we were to turn them off and then boost the viewership of those who follow the old school rules of reporting without all of the chattering and blathering, then the spin might end. Until we do this we will be subject to the fighting that is slowly but surely tearing us apart and preventing us from accomplishing anything.  I don’t know about you, but I for one have grown weary of being manipulated.

Resilience

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

21766401_1868966163120008_6720605651907966418_nI’ve written a great deal about the massive floods that inundated the city of Houston a month ago. The national media has featured multiple stories from varying points of view about the tragedy that befell my town. We will be working to rebuild for years and debating how best to prevent such destruction in the future for an even longer time. To say that all of us who live in Houston and surrounding areas have been deeply affected by what happened is an understatement. What has struck me most is the courage and resilience of the people with whom I share my part of the world as well as the outpouring of support and love that has been showered on us. I thought that I had written about most of the main themes regarding this event and its impact on human nature until I saw a photo from one of my Facebook friends that moved me so strongly that I have not been able to erase that image from my mind.

I still think of the woman who posted the picture as the little girl who lived across the street from me many years ago. She spent so many hours inside my house playing with my two daughters. She was always a very sweet child and I never minded having her around. She seemed to be smiling even in her sleep and she possessed a pleasant optimism about life that just felt so good. Her name is Priscilla and I never really forgot how much I liked her as the years marched by and we lost touch.

Eventually through the power of social media we found each other on Facebook and became friends again. I learned that she was happily married and had a handsome son of whom she was understandably proud. She lives in the same part of town that I do, and so one Christmas season I met up with her and my two daughters at a local restaurant. We celebrated our reunion with hours of conversation and recollections of happy memories. Now and again I encounter Priscilla at stores and eateries, but mostly I keep track of her via the Internet, and I enjoy hearing of her adventures with her family.

Not too long ago Priscilla made a move to her dream home in Pearland, a suburb of Houston. She excitedly kept her friends apprised of the decorating and landscaping that she and her husband undertook to make their house special. I was excited for her and enjoyed seeing all of the updates. So it was with a very heavy heart that I learned that Priscilla’s home was among those flooded by hurricane Harvey. In fact, the place took on water on the first day of the massive rains. It broke my heart to think of the sadness and fear that she must have been feeling.

I had forgotten that Priscilla is one of those people who is a survivor by nature. In almost no time she had managed to find a safe hotel in which to ride out the rest of the storm. She did her best to remain upbeat even in the face of so much uncertainty. It was as though she was more concerned about easing the fears of the rest of us than concentrating on her own fate. She kept us posted so that we would know that she and her family were secure and she exuded a confident belief that ultimately all would end well for them.

Almost as soon as the storms had moved from our area she was back at her house doing the work of cleaning out all of the muck that had found its way inside. She continued to send communications showing the progress that she and her family were making, somehow finding ways to joke about the pile of debris that grew and grew on their lawn. She always managed to allay our anxieties with photos of the cleaned out rooms now devoid of half of the sheetrock and all of the flooring. In essence she and her family had taken the place down to the studs, at least on the bottom half of the rooms.

I laughed at images of Priscilla’s garage which now housed a big screen television, a few lawn chairs, a barbecue smoker and a toilet. Priscilla had noted with a hint of sarcasm that the scene was about as redneck as one might ever get. She remained upbeat, at least publicly, and it was among the few times that I smiled rather than cried over what I witnessed after the storm.

Last week Priscilla posted an image that seemed to capture her spirit and that of my hometown. She and her family had moved back into their house even though there was still much work to be done. With a great deal of imagination she and her husband had created a makeshift kitchen that was a true sight to behold. The bottom cabinets were gone as was the flooring and even the sink. Only the sheetrock had been replaced. Instead of the normal amenities there were long folding tables serving as countertops, clear plastic bins providing cabinet storage, a camping sink acting as a station for washing dishes, and a new stainless steel stove gleaming like a beacon of hope. That photo spoke of Priscilla’s fighting spirit and resilience and at the moment that I saw it, she became for me the symbol of all that is good in our town. Hers was the story that I knew I needed to tell.

There is no doubt that Priscilla and so many others have suffered in ways that should not have happened. We all understand that we must address concerns about climate change, shoring up of levees around neighborhoods, improvements to dams, aggressive building in flood plains, increased attention to drainage systems and so forth. In our quest to reflect on what happened we cannot forget to applaud the human spirit that Priscilla so embodies. Rather than complaining or waiting for someone else to help, she and her family did indeed pull themselves up by their bootstraps. They tackled the hard work and found ways to make do until their world is rebuilt once again. They are models of how to react with positivity and inspiration in hard times.

I wish that Priscilla’s story and photos would be shared until they become viral because hers is a lesson that we all should strive to follow. Life is a series of events both wonderful and sometimes even horrific. We have little ability to control many things, but we always are in charge of how we react. Priscilla has chosen faith and joy and hope. We are all the better for seeing her example, and we somehow know that she will find a way to be just fine. We’d all do well to emulate her spirit. I’m thankful that she has been willing to share her journey. I know that I am humbled by what I have seen and I vow to attempt to be as resilient as she most assuredly is.

Houston We Still Have A Problem

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I have a friend who is a widow. When she first lost her husband she was showered with attention, but as time went by she became more and more alone. It was almost as though she had simply been forgotten. She and her husband had enjoyed an active social life until he became critically ill. After his death the invitations and visits that she had always so enjoyed became less and less frequent.

I recall the same thing happening to my mother over time until she mostly relied on family to invite her out of the house now and again. She remarked that it was human nature to provide comfort at the beginning of a loss, but that people slowly become preoccupied with daily routines that sap their time and energy making them less likely to stick around. She was quite understanding and nonjudgemental of those who drifted out of her life. She adapted and made do with the help that was offered, and didn’t dwell on the friendships that withered away because her life had become so different with my father’s death.

As the sun shines, schools open and so many people return to a semblance of normalcy after hurricane Harvey I find myself worrying and possibly even panicking for those most impacted by the devastating storms. Most of them have all of their possessions piled in heaps on the curb along with mounds of sheetrock, flooring and carpet. The stench of mildew and rot fills the air around their neighborhoods. They await word from FEMA or insurance adjusters to tell them how much assistance they will receive in rebuilding their lives. They often wear somebody else’s  clothing and shoes. They rely on others for rides because their cars are gone. Their futures are so uncertain that they are numb. They sit in their yards or rented rooms staring absently into the distance. Everything feels so overwhelming, particularly as the interest of others wanes. They have been the disaster of the week, the big news headline, but now it feels as though so many begin to move on to the next big thing.

Even the people who still remember them and appear to understand their plight are being pulled and tugged by the everyday demands of existence. They have to schedule their voluntary hours and assistance now. There is so much pressure to get back to the usual grind and a pervasive feeling that there aren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish all that must be done, but the piles of rubble are still there. The shells of what were once rooms where memories were made await financing that may or may not come. Stressed out homeowners jockey to book overworked contractors to bring their dreams back to life. Word is that it will take months, maybe even years to make all of the needed repairs. What are the injured parties to do while they are waiting? How much debt will they incur? Is there really any way to help them to feel safe and secure once again? Will they eventually be forgotten, or should they expect to be mostly on their own? These are the questions that haunt them in their sleepless nights. These are the worries that fill their thoughts.

Harvey has already been pushed to the back pages of the news. Irma is the new kid in town, the tragedy of the hour. FEMA is moving some rescue efforts from Texas to Florida. There will be competition for limited resources and funds making frustrations even more intense. All the while we have to continue to support our neighbors in the long journey that lies ahead for them even though we too are tired. Still those of us who were lucky understand that we do not have the luxury of simply resuming life as though nothing has happened. Our neighbors are frightened and weary and just as psychologically scarred as their homes are physically.

Every part of town is feeling the impact of this horrific event. Harvey was an equal opportunity storm whose wrath made victims of the rich and the poor and virtually every race and ethnicity. We have rushed to provide stop gap assistance. We provided cleaning products, tools and the labor to clean out houses. We gave food, clothing and shelter to those who have been displaced. We took school supplies to schools and did our best to care for the personal needs of people of all ages. There have been untold heroes who have worked tirelessly and selflessly for days. Now comes the hardest part of all, the moment when we just want to have happy thoughts and forget about all of the pain. Unfortunately to do so would betray all of those whose fate might have been ours but for the randomness of the destruction.

In the coming weeks we must be certain that all of our neighbors get the repairs that they need to make their residences whole again. More than that though, we must insist that measures are taken to make our streets and neighborhoods safer. This may mean purchasing homes that are in harms way and repurposing them as green spaces. We may have to strengthen and build levees, create more retention ponds, get dams up to date, install pumps around town, build houses on higher freeboard elevations, improve drainage. We have the know how, but we also need the vision and the will.

Long ago Houston leaders had a dream of making what was then a small town into a major port even though it was landlocked. They dug a big ditch from the Gulf of Mexico all the way into the city that became known as the Ship Channel. Today it is one of the busiest commercial centers in the world. With a bit of imagination we built the Harvard of the South on the campus of Rice University and created one of the best medical centers anywhere. We need the same kind of willingness to use technologies and knowledge to rebuild a city capable of withstanding even the unthinkable. We showed the world that we are not a population of ordinary people. We Houstonians are quite special and its time that we translate all of our spirit into a victory over tragedy. Houston we have a problem, but we have found answers to other conundrums before. Now let’s see what we might do to unravel the complexities that caused the worst flood that our country has ever seen, and insure that we will be prepared if such an event were ever to occur again.

We’re Going To Make It After All

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I’m slowly remembering how to sleep again. I had just begun to totally relax after my husband’s stroke when the big Houston flood came along. I don’t think that I have dozed for more than five or six hours for at least a week. Getting back to normal is going to be difficult. We have all changed just a bit, but thankfully I believe that it is for the better.

Yesterday I went on errands for the first time since last Friday. Everyone was so nice and cheerful you would have thought that it was Christmas time. Employees welcomed us to the stores with big smiles and hearty greetings. Strangers were asking each other how they had done in the storm. It was almost like living in a tiny town rather than the fourth largest city in the United States. Most of the people were purchasing items to donate to those who had been affected by the flooding. They had their carts piled high with personal care items, food, cleaning products, water and school supplies. I had a difficult time finding pencils because we all had the same thought that we needed to replace the items that kids will need when schools open once again.

The day was absolutely gorgeous and so we ventured across town to visit with my father-in-law who had been on pins and needles with concern for all of his family. He was surprised and delighted to see us, and we had fun exchanging war stories for a couple of hours. He had done quite well even though the rain had been furious. He lives in what is no doubt the highest neighborhood in the city, so if he had flooded it would have been Armageddon. Still he spoke of a couple of moments when the water in his street was raging like a river, something that he had never before seen. Luckily there were enough breaks in the deluge to allow the rain to drain in between the downpours. Ultimately his home was never threatened.

Our conversations were accompanied by the sound of helicopters flying overhead, an experience that has become sadly commonplace. We’ve seen Blackhawks and Chinooks and every possible variety for several days now. For the most part we ignored the implications of what those choppers meant even though in the back of our minds we prayed for the souls who were onboard. We joked that we each want one along with a landing pad on the roof for Christmas, or at least a flat bottom boat with a set of life jackets. It’s crazy how humor helped us to relax.

Our homeward route took us through the heart of downtown Houston which seemed almost like a ghost town or a set for The Walking Dead. Now and again we saw crews pumping water from underground parking garages, and there were a few hearty souls walking along the mostly deserted streets. I saw a homeless people here and there sunning themselves and wondered what they had done during the storm. I marvel at how resilient they are and don’t think that I would fare nearly as well. I hope that they are not overlooked when relief is being provided for the citizens.

The official word yesterday was that Houston ISD students will not begin school until September 11, a somewhat meaningful date for all of us. It is not certain what other districts will decide to do, but it is clear that both teachers and students will need to ease into the process. Everyone is rattled whether they had damage to their homes or not. It will take some time for a sense of security and normalcy to return. I also believe that school districts will have to think out of the box to fulfill their needs. I’d like to see them hire more counselors and keep classes smaller perhaps by using retired teachers to work a couple of hours a day to ease some of the burdens. Maybe they even need to consider getting waivers to have shorter school days, at least during the first semester when everyone is still so stressed.

Everyone who does not have to repair his/her home wants so desperately to volunteer to help someone else. Offers of aid are flooding into the city. It is nice to realize that we humans are still quite nice in spite of recent indications to the contrary. We have been fed a steady diet of stories of terrorists, white supremacists, and hatefulness between opposing viewpoints for too long of late. It’s nice to hear of people intent on being kind and generous rather than fighting with one another. I sure wish that the attitudes that are apparent all around in Houston right now would infect the rest of the country like a virus. We desperately need to come together with a unified goal. The invective that has become so commonplace needs to go the way of Harvey.

I don’t want to rush things, but it feels as though Houstonians will eventually come out of this disaster even stronger than we presently are, as long as armchair quarterbacks don’t over analyze what has happened here. Just as teenagers don’t like nagging from their parents, we citizens of Houston are rather frayed and really don’t need critiques. We’ve done our best and prefer that people just leave it at that. Later we might analyze levees and drainage systems and routes for evacuations with an eye to improving them. For now we just need to survive.

I love that so many things are settling down in ways that might seem insignificant to some, but are major to me. I saw RVs returning home from wherever they had taken refuge. It was good to see people with enough confidence to come back again. A neighbor mowed his lawn yesterday, a rather mundane act but one that made me smile from ear to ear. We have to do all of these little things to feel good again. Bit by bit, step by step I think we are going to make it, and hopefully we will have learned much to guide us in the future. 

We Are Beautiful

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

maxresdefaultThe sun was out yesterday. It was a beautiful day in Houston, Texas and it’s surrounding suburbs. Our “pet” gecko Stubby returned and the next door neighbor hung his American flag again. Children were outside playing, dogs were barking, cars were moving along the streets. Complete strangers were smiling and waving and shouting greetings. I’ve never seen so much celebrating of a very ordinary day that suddenly felt so extraordinary.

I had to keep checking the calendar to know what day it was. I’ve lost track of time. Was it only a week ago that my little corner of the world was completely normal, or was that years ago in another time and place? How is it even possible that so much can happen in the space of only days? Why is everyone so discombobulated? What is causing our voices to quiver with so much emotion?  Why do I sense that every one of us who experienced the great Harvey flood of 2017 has forever changed?

There was a woman on television advising us to let our feelings out. She counseled that our tears that keep falling are a good thing, part of the process of healing. We have a city of over four million people who are suffering from PTSD. We have endured a lifetime of shock and awe in a very narrow space of time. Our minds and our bodies are reacting exactly as they were designed to do. We should not deny the hurt and the sorrow that is lurking just behind the courage and determination that is driving us to put our city back together. We each need outlets for our quiet worries. We need to embrace each other, hold hands allow the words that we are stifling to leave our lips. We must admit that we need help, even as we attempt to pull ourselves up on our own.

There is great power in reaching out to aid those who did not fare well in this disaster, but there are so many who need our help that it can feel overwhelming. It will be impossible to be in as many places as we want to be, so we must each contribute to the restoration process one step at a time, one day at a time. Even small gestures done collectively will make a great difference. We have to pace ourselves and conserve our energies for the long haul. We need to coordinate our efforts by sharing needs so that nobody will be forgotten, and realize that everyone has a role to play in the long marathon that lies ahead.

We are enthusiastic right now. The whole world is coming to our rescue. Everything seems possible in our present mood of rejoicing that the rains have stopped, but we have to remember that we humans are fickle. Long after interest in our city’s situation has waned, the work of rebuilding will remain. It will be up to us to keep the momentum going. We will need patience, grit, determination. There will be roadblocks and frustrations that will tempt us to lose our hope and rise up in anger. We need to be prepared for the long challenges that lie ahead.

I have marveled at the demonstrations of unity and friendship that I have seen over and over again. I always knew that Houston, Texas was the most remarkable city anywhere, but I guess I really didn’t understand just how deep its compassion and nobility actually is. I have been astounded over and over again by the spirit of this place. Where else is there a furniture store owner who opens his business to those seeking shelter from the storm? In which other place would a hometown sports hero challenge the world to send donations to bring immediate aid to his fans? Is there another town in which the local grocer would send food trucks into the most devastated areas? How do friends and family manage to wade through standing water to help those that they love pull saturated carpet and debris from water logged homes? What is it about Houston that is impressing the entire world?

I awoke this morning to find posts on Facebook that made me smile. Friends who live in Katy braved the waters surrounding their home yesterday to get a first look at what kind of damage had been done to their house. Before the sun had set an army of friends had come to help them to do the preliminary work needed to bring their house back to a habitable state. They filled the curb with carpet and sheetrock and celebrated their accomplishment with a photograph of their smiling crew. Such scenes were repeated all across the soggy landscape, and in every single case there were acquaintences and strangers alike helping in both big and little ways.

There are four million stories unfolding in Houston, each of them important and meaningful. Nobody here should feel alone or unseen. We have linked hands and will not let go. Neither will any of us ever again take our city and its people for granted. We were on the abyss, but we did not fall inside. Today as the sun rises again we marvel in its beauty. We see clearly with eyes that had been blinded to the wonder of this great place. We mark our time with a new kind of calendar that delineates the years before the flood and those that will come after. In the AF years we will surely become even stronger than we have ever been.

In the meantime we roll up our sleeves and we work. We have to think out of the box in finding solutions for today’s problems and planning for a better future. We must be willing to request assistance. People are waiting for the calls for help. They want to help, and they will respond. Give them the blessing of being able to do so for they too need to heal. Just ask for the aid that you need, and for those who can’t seem to find a cause, just seek. Somebody will be very happy for a donation, a meal, a cup of coffee, a friendly ear, a babysitter, a fan, a bottle of bleach, a hug. There is a student who would like a bag of school supplies or needs a counselor. Each of us must find a our role in the process, a way of helping.

We won’t be done tomorrow or even in a few weeks, but there will come a time when we will be able to look back on what we accomplished as a community with great pride. We’ll wear our Houston t-shirts and boast about a city that can’t be understood until you become one of us. We are proud. We are strong. We are beautiful. We are Houston.