Category: Movies

Be An Elf

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

3485j5ydzhjnpsnenhzpaiqdb69One of my favorite Christmas movies is Elf, the story of Buddy, an orphan who stole away in Santa’s bag on Christmas Eve and ended up being raised at the North Pole. Buddy is as sweet as the sugary diet that he so loves but somehow he doesn’t quite fit in with the other elves. When he learns about his true identity he sets off to New York City in search of his birth father and hopefully finding an idea of who he really is.

I love Buddy for his unadulterated innocence. He doesn’t seem to have a mean bone in his body even though he is not always treated with the love and respect that he accords to everyone he meets. He seems strange in a world of hustle, bustle and competition but people eventually respond to his genuine nature. He finally learns that just being himself is his best talent.

I’ve been fortunate to know many individuals much like Buddy, people who almost appear to be otherworldly in their ability to see the good in every person and situation. One of the first of such people that comes to my mind is one of my former principals, Joe. To this day his face is continually lit with what seems to be a permanent grin that is so spectacular it lights up a room. He is filled with happy greetings no matter the time of day. I have to admit that am not a morning person so I sometimes avoided Joe in the earliest part of the school day because I felt overwhelmed by his expansive good nature. Still, in my heart I loved that he was so exuberant and open. I know the kids did.

Joe began his career working with special needs children. I suspect that he was wonderful in that regard because he is so accepting of everyone exactly the way they are. As a principal he reveled in making everyone happy. He started each school day with optimism and spent his hours thinking of ways to bring out the best in people. He’s retired now and often travels to Haiti and other countries that have experienced difficulties. He volunteers his time and talents and makes many friends. His Facebook posts are infinitely positive and hopeful, filled with inspiration and faith. He even takes the time to warn all of us who are his friends to be careful as we travel about during the holiday season.

My mother was a beautiful soul like Joe, almost childlike in her interactions with people. She seemed to be a lovely sprite with one of those magical smiles that only very special people have. Like Buddy, the elf-human, she found great joy in the simplest things. Nothing made her happier than a really good cup of coffee or an ice cream cone. She enjoyed looking at Christmas lights and she didn’t need an expensive display to feel excited. A few strands across a front porch were enough to make her happy.

Some people saw my mother as an eccentric but most learned to return the love that she gave so freely. She literally spent her days thinking about everyone that she knew and she gave to so many charitable organizations that she barely had enough money at the end of the month to meet her own obligations. She scoffed when I reminded her to be more careful with her funds and insisted that she would be fine which, in fact, she usually was.

I have known many young people who were so much like Buddy, Joe and my mother. Among them is Danny, one of the most remarkable young people that I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. Danny claims that he was not always as agreeable as he now is. He tells a story of a troubled past that landed him in the hands of the police. When he realized how close he had come to ruining his life and when he saw how devastated his mother was, he set out to change direction. He did so with great determination and the Danny that I met was kind, sincere, honest and peaceful.

Danny is a valiant prayer warrior. It is through God that he has found his way. Whenever I request that Danny storm the heavens for a particular cause miracles seem to happen. He is a person that everyone seems to love and admire, a leader who exemplifies the kind of high moral character to which we all aspire. He literally radiates empathy and a holy spirit.

I once taught a young lady who was much like Danny. Her family was homeless and she slept in the trunk of a car each evening. Many young girls might have been angry and disruptive given such dire circumstances but she was quite literally optimistic and content that her situation was only temporary. In the meantime she made the best of things and found ways to see her lifestyle as a kind of adventure. She somehow managed to do all of her homework and came to school hiding her poverty behind the two outfits that she alternated. She spoke of how lucky she was to get breakfast and lunch at the school each day and had high praise for the owner of the funeral home behind which her family lived. They allowed her to use the bathroom facilities and to sit inside while she tended to her studies. She searched their dumpster each evening for “treasures” including the flowers that she brought me. I suspect that I learned more from this precious child than she ever learned from me.

I always thought of my grandmother as a kid in an old woman’s body. It was difficult for me to imagine her boarding a ship all by herself to come to America and a strange new way of living. Like Buddy, she was so uncomplicated. She needed little to be satisfied. A fresh loaf of rye bread or a Whitman’s Sampler was akin to a pot of gold for her. She appeared to know little of the world or the hatefulness that lurked outside her door. My mother said that she hugged and kissed and protected her children with all of her might. She lived her days in peace and offered her love without any restrictions.

We are surrounded by many people like Buddy and the others that I have described. Sometimes we think that they are a bit unconventional. We may worry about them because they are so guileless. Somehow they manage through the force of their love to pry open even the most hardened hearts. They change our world for the better. We know that just being with them makes us happy.

I’d like to think that we all have a bit of Buddy in us, we just need to allow our inner child to emerge. Not only will we make the people around us feel better but I suspect that our souls will feel more harmonious as well. Be an elf. Smile and enjoy the beauty of the moment and the people that we encounter as we go about the business of our days.

We Need A Little Christmas Now

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

christmas-house-inside-decorations-e2-80-93-besthome_christmas-house-inside-decorations_home-decor_home-decorating-catalogs-theater-decor-shabby-chic-decorators-collection-coupon-diy-ideas-magazines-dI’m usually a stickler for tradition when it comes to October, November and December. I insist on proceeding through the holidays in an orderly fashion. Halloween must come first without even a hint of other celebrations to come. Next is my birthday which usually heralds sweater season and maybe even a few boot wearing days. After that is Thanksgiving and only the Friday after that feast should there be even the smallest sign of Christmas. This year I’m ready to throw up my tree, turn on some carols and enjoy a big mug of spiked eggnog and we haven’t even sat down for the annual turkey day dinner yet. Honestly I’m not sure what has gotten in to me but I don’t mind at all that some of my neighbors and friends have already decorated their trees and put lights on their houses. For whatever reason I just think we need a little Christmas and we need it now.

It’s been a tough year for anyone who has even remotely paid attention to politics. I had hoped that with the election all of the drama would be over and we would be able to just sit back and enjoy the holiday season. Unfortunately that little pipe dream is shattered. Instead I continue to hear barbs being traded between people who at one time were friends. Now we are all being cautioned not to even mention politics at the family gatherings that we will soon attend. I still harbor a fairly unrealistic hope that we will soon realize the folly of our ways and set aside the animosities that have built to a fever pitch.

It would be nice if we were to remember what the season is really all about. Thanksgiving should be a time of gratitude no matter how harsh the rest of the year has been. The fact that any of us are still standing and breathing should be enough for which to be thankful. We should not forget that we actually have a say in our government and the finalization of an election doesn’t change that. We have representatives with whom to communicate. We have the power of the pen. There are many many ways that we may live our freedoms. We sometimes forget that the pilgrims who are so much a part of the history of our annual celebration came to avoid persecution. They preferred risking their lives to submitting to the demands of a nation that outlawed their religious beliefs. Those who made it through the first year in a strange and dangerous land understood the import of their new found independence.

Christmas is all about the birth of a man who advocated a new and loving way of living. Whether we believe that He was the son of God or not, there is no denying that His words and teachings were revolutionary. His was a vision of peace, acceptance and unconditional love. We have commercialized Christmas to the point of burying His important message under a flood of consumerism instead of remembering the way that He taught us to live. Now more than ever we need His lessons to resonate with all people regardless of where they live, what they believe or how they look. Ultimately our hope lies in following the example of Jesus.

I have always loved this time of year because everyone seemed happy and ready to let bygones be bygones. It was a time for setting aside disagreements and beginning anew. The new year provided us with an opportunity to start over with a clean slate, a moment to try one more time to set things right. I find myself wondering and worrying that our natural tendencies to forgive and forget may not be as generous as in the past. There is a world of hurt out there and I don’t see it changing any time soon. Still I really hope that if we can just hurry Christmas along a bit we might find ourselves realizing that nothing is quite as important as our friendships and relations. Sure we might have that crazy uncle who has some strange ideas and there may be the long time friend who has gone a bit overboard with her newest cause but in the end we love them enough to overlook the irritating aspects of their personalities. We know in our hearts that none of us are perfect so we give the people about whom we care the benefit of the doubt as long as they seem to try.

Life is far shorter than we dare to admit. The nice thing about Christmas is that it gives us the perfect excuse to get together with family, friends and neighbors. We gather around the warmth of the tree and munch on cookies and worry about the diets next week. We feel the joy of lighting up someone’s eyes with a special gift. We finally take the time to pause from our labors long enough to laugh and relax and enjoy the company of people that we may not have seen for a long time. Somehow philosophies don’t seem to matter that much when we are exchanging hugs and remembering times spent together.

So I’m all for getting the Christmas show on the road as soon as possible. I may even put up my tree before Thanksgiving, something that has been akin to a mortal sin in the past. If hurrying Santa Claus elicits just one smile that might not otherwise have been there it will have been worth the effort. I want to go the the Nutcracker ballet and see the lights in the zoo. I plan to blast carols from my radio all day long for the next six weeks. I’m going to make cookies and fudge and have them ready to give to my neighbors. I can’t wait to hear the ringing bells of the Salvation Army and I plan to contribute to every red bucket that I see. I pledge to chase the Grinch and Scrooge out of town. It will be all Elf for me, sugary and sweet and happy as can be. “Away with predictions of doom and gloom,” I say. “We’ve got this!” I don’t intend to let anyone steal my joy. I’ll even don fur trimmed shorts if the weather stays warm.

It’s A Wonderful Life particularly speaks to me this year. We are all George. The world needs us. It is up to each one of us to be the change and the optimism that we wish to see. We can start by doing up Christmas in the very best way and then taking that spirit with us all throughout the new year. If there is anything that I have learned it is that we may get knocked down but there is always a way to get back up again. My challenge to everyone is to begin celebrating starting today. Do something that makes you or someone else feel good. Don’t limit yourself to twelve days or a month. Carry Christmas in your heart everyday.

The Rainbow Connection

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

400px-double-alaskan-rainbowIt’s my birthday today which is no doubt why I have been rather nostalgic this week. I’ve found my thoughts returning to my mother and father who taught me so many worthy lessons, sometimes just through their actions rather than their words. Truth be told I owe so much to them starting with my very existence. After all my story would never even have commenced were it not for their love and willingness to share it with one another and then with me and my brothers.

They were so very young when they decided to take on the world together. They were still kids who had only a vague idea of what they wanted their lives to be. When I was born couple of years after they married my mother was twenty two and my father twenty five. We lived in rented apartments while my father finished his education at Texas A&M. Both of them doted on me. I don’t exactly remember their attention but old black and white photographs confirm my belief that I was loved.

My mother kept track of my milestones in a baby book that bears her carefully crafted notations on my progress. She kept every card and photo from my early days in an album that I still have. I sense her joy on those pages and see that the love that surrounded me came not just from my parents but from a great big extended family and a host of friends. That love became the foundation on which my character was built brick by brick.

My father wasn’t around for very long. By the time I was eight years old he had died. I never forgot how much he enjoyed reading and those wonderful moments when he would sit on the couch sharing his favorite stories and poems with me while we snuggled. I suppose that my own love of books was born in those moments and it has been a way for me to keep his essence alive in my mind.

He was a man who did many things very well. He loved to fish like his mother and never came home from an expedition without a stringer full of catches that Mama would fry up for countless dinners. He was an artist with handwriting and printing that rivaled the monks of old who copied manuscripts. He built models of houses and buildings, miniature versions with tiny details. He was a student of history with a memory for facts and dates that was uncanny. He had many friends whom he entertained with an endless round of jokes. Most of all he loved his Texas Aggies with unquestioned loyalty. Weekends in the fall were devoted to following their football games on the radio with his best buddy, Lloyd.

He was a conscientious man who arose early each morning to go to work so that his family might enjoy a good life. In the evenings he loved to share stories while we ate. He was so in love with my mother and very proud of me and my brothers. Still he had a kind of adventurous itch that came from constantly moving when he was a boy as his father searched for construction work. Somehow he was never quite content with the idea of settling down. He always seemed to be dreaming of travel and the next move. I suppose that it was only fitting that he would be out and about on a summer evening driving aimlessly in his car when he went into a ditch and died instantly.

My mother had a childlike innocence about her. She was the youngest of eight children and had been adored by her entire family. She was a bit spoiled but in a good way. She was always self assured and certain of herself. She was a romantic who was madly in love with my father. She enjoyed her life as a homemaker and mother, never having any desire to venture from the home in search of work. She was fulfilled in the role that she had dreamed of living. She had already been an administrative assistant to a judge and a dean of engineering. She was proud of her work but did not need it to feel good about herself. She thought that she would always be a stay at home wife and mother and she did that job as well as she had done virtually everything that she had ever attempted. When my father died she was only thirty years old with three very young children. She was heartbroken in a way that would never completely heal. She dug deep inside her soul and found the strength that she needed to carry on. I know that from that point forward me and my brothers were the focus of her life. There was nothing else that mattered more to her.

She struggled financially and eventually realized that she would have to find a job. She earned a college degree and became a teacher all while somehow managing to run a household and insuring me and my brothers that we would still have a normal life. Her energy seemed boundless and her optimism was infectious. She was an angel in every possible way who was beloved by all who knew her. Our home was always brimming with friends and family who enjoyed her warmth and effervescence. Even though she worried incessantly about finances she never let on to us. She used to tell us that she had a money tree in the backyard and that Jesus loved widows and fatherless children so much that He would always make sure that we had what we needed.

Eventually the stress of being so many things to so many people caught up with her. She developed severe systems of mental illness and my role and hers switched places from time to time. I had to learn how to care for her whenever the depression and mania of that disease took hold. Somehow she never allowed her illness to change her always loving and hopeful spirit nor to steal her innocence. One of her favorite songs was Rainbow Connection from The Muppet Movie. Whenever she heard it tears would form in her eyes and she would smile. The song spoke to who she was as a person.

So as I celebrate on this anniversary of my entrance into this life I think of my parents and the gifts that they gave me that began the evolution of who I am as a person. I am a unique amalgam of each of them along with other traits that I picked up along the way. I am thankful that God chose those two people to create me. They both taught me how to love unconditionally, find strengths within and how to open my heart and my mind to the world. They gave me curiosity and optimism, joy and resilience. They showed me how to look forward and to trust in the goodness of the people who surround me. I’m so very glad that they gave me an opportunity to live and to celebrate the beauty of existence. They were lovers and dreamers who showed me how to find the rainbow connection.

Just One More

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

HacksawRidge_D33-15263.jpgFor centuries we have been sending young men into the abyss of war. Sometimes the causes have been noble but mostly the reasons for fighting have centered around politics that the average person found difficult to comprehend. History is stained with the very life blood of our youth. It takes great courage to volunteer to represent a country on a battlefield and even more to actually participate in a battle. It is something that most of us pray that we never have to endure and yet it has been a fact of history. Over and over again the treasure of our youth has had to bear arms against an enemy that they did not know for reasons that they may not have understood. We can almost all agree that war has and always will be hell and should be a last resort.

I am against all forms of violence. I think it morally wrong to abort babies, execute criminals and fight enemies and yet I understand that there are times when killing is the only choice to protect the innocent from danger. I am a conscientious objector up to a point. My faith tells me that if I have to choose between simply watching a despot like Adolf Hitler bullying his way across a continent or taking action to stop him with gunfire and bombs then I have every right to defend all that is good and just. I think that I might be able to set aside my gentle ways to stop such hate from spreading and I certainly commend those who put their very lives on the line in the call of duty. It is a sign of nobility to defend the innocent against aggressive tyrants and I often wonder if I would be capable of rising to such an occasion. I am in awe of those who find the grit within themselves to do so.

World War II was a nasty affair as are all wars but it bore the patina of being a just cause. Here in the United States virtually everyone in the country rallied to fight the despots from Germany, Italy and Japan. Young men joined the military at a fever pitch. High schools, universities and factories were emptied out as our youth eagerly volunteered to join the fight. Among them were my father, my uncles, and a young man from Virginia named Desmond Doss. What made Desmond a bit more unusual than most of his peers is that he was a Seventh Day Adventist who believed that it would be against God’s will to kill. Rather than registering as a conscientious objector and sitting out the war at home he decided to join with the intent of becoming a medic. With a kind of naive belief he actually thought that he would be allowed to accompany his unit without bearing arms.

His training for battle went well up until the time that he was instructed to choose a rifle and learn how to use it. When he refused to do so he became a pariah and the focus of a concerted effort to get him to simply quit. Somehow in spite of the bullying, insults and persecution that he had to endure he continued to insist that he wanted to be of service but simply could not and would not use a weapon. His conviction sent him to a military court where it was eventually ruled that he might be trained as a medic without bearing arms.

Doss’s battalion was sent to the war in the Pacific, a brutal theater where very different cultures clashed in some of the most horrific battles of that era. Their objective was to take a ridge known by the name of Hacksaw. When they arrived the fighting had already decimated entire units. The Japanese soldiers were relentless in their attacks and it seemed as though there would be no stopping them. Over a hundred and fifty thousand Japanese troops had been sent to keep possession of the area and so the battles were fierce. Doss followed his fellow soldiers as they attacked according to their orders. He provided medical aide to the wounded in the middle of a battle so bloody that it was almost overwhelming. Even after his group left to recoup for the night Doss stayed and rescued over seventy five men including some Japanese soldiers who had also been wounded. It was a miraculous and unbelievably heroic feat that earned him the respect of his brothers in arms. For the rest of his life he would tell of how he kept asking God to allow him to help just one more man to safety throughout that long and treacherous night.

Desmond Doss’s story is depicted in the movie Hacksaw Ridge, a brilliant film that brings us face to face with the sheer humanity of war. It is an homage not just to Doss but to all who risk their lives in battle. It slams the viewer into the visceral horror of fighting and asks us to imagine what soldiers have endured from the beginning of time. It forces us to consider questions of faith and to ponder our own beliefs. It is a brilliant work of art and a metaphor for both mankind’s brutality and its humanity. Through the eyes of a Godly man we see the chaos, fear and complexities of wars and those who participate in them.

I left the movie understanding that I had just seen something important. I was shaken and emotional. I thought of all of the people that I had ever known who had gone to war. I wondered what terrible and courageous things they must have seen that changed them forevermore. I realized just how fragile and strong each of us truly is. I was moved to tears as I pondered the importance of treasuring every life as a gift from God Himself. I worried that we humans have yet to find ways of resolving our differences without rancor and hate. The threat of war still looms in our hearts as long as we are unable to set aside our arms and our ugliness, as long as there is evil lurking on our planet. I contemplated our goodness as people as well. It occurred to me that there are individuals like Desmond Doss all around us, those who stand for something bigger than themselves. They quietly and peacefully work to serve us because it is right and just, not for glory or compensation. They are truly exceptional and they far outnumber those who would harm us.

Ours is a world of contradictions and uncertainty. We quietly wonder from one day to the next if we are truly living our best lives. We search for answers amidst noise and distractions. In the end we must do as Desmond Doss did in the middle of chaos. We must listen for the voice inside our souls that allows us to do just one more good thing, just one more.     

The Good Times We Had

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

65-yearbookIn a valley near the east shore of Texas

‘Neath the vast and the clear Texas sky

Stands a monument to honor Our Lady:

It’s our own Mt. Carmel High.

Though it’s walls echo cheers and much laughter,

It’s for knowledge and culture we fight:

For with each passing year,

Our love grows more dear,

For we’re led by that great Carmel might.

While we sing of the praises of Carmel

We are loyal to the old brown and white:

Though our mem’ries dim

We’ll be true to Him

And to Her of the great Carmel might!

By the 1964-1965 school year those of us in the Class of 1966 were coming into our own. Gone were our childish expressions, replaced by the conviction that we were at long last on our way to adulthood and positions of leadership. Our resolve was reflected in our eyes and in the way we began to take charge and work together for the betterment of the school and the community. It was a year of learning about the history of our country and understanding the chemistry of life. Algebra II introduced us to our first inklings of higher mathematics and in our Religion classes we began to discuss very adult topics along with learning more about the Bible. Some of us came early in the morning to take Latin III in addition to being introduced to German. We expanded our horizons with Art, Mechanical Drawing, Choral, Clothing, and Home Economics. We had learned how to balance the rigor of academics with the growing number of activities in which we engaged.

I finally turned sixteen in November but still didn’t get to drive a car. That would have to wait for a later time when the burden of paying for insurance didn’t fall on my mom. It didn’t really matter because so many of my friends were willing to chauffeur me to all of the wonderful events that we would enjoy that year. Father Shane still insisted that we attend plays at the Alley Theater and concerts at the Music Hall. Of course I loved going to those special presentations that were making me the citizen of the world that he promised we would become. I remember how he taught us to wait for the signal from the conductor before clapping and we always felt a bit smug when students from the other schools brought their hands together at inappropriate moments.

So many of us were now officers in the various clubs and organizations. I was the Vice President of the ever growing Medical Careers Club. Paul Colby and Harry Butler were winning first place trophies in Debate. Sixteen of us became eligible for induction into the National Honor Society. Our junior representatives on the Student Council were Jeannine Mandola, Margaret Rae, Mike Bole, Judy Loisey, David Patton, Janis Lowe, Johnny McAughan and somehow even I earned a spot with that illustrious group. A large contingency of juniors worked as Library Assistants and became members of the Texas Association of German Students. Interest in The CarmeLight newspaper grew by leaps and bounds with the sports section becoming particularly popular under the guidance of Richard Powers. Father Franz asked a few of us to become members of the Chroniclers Club to maintain the history of our school. (To this day I wonder what happened to the work that we did.)  Linda Derks and Judy Loisey were installed as officers in the Future Teachers Club while the Choral Club grew large enough to fill a set of bleachers. The Dance Committee planed events for Halloween, Christmas, New Year’s Eve and Easter. The Mission club quietly performed good works for people in difficult situations. MIke Petru was one of the leaders of the Science Club. The Cadettes continued their pursuit of excellence with Margaret Rae, Judy Loisey, Janis Lowe,Ruth Hoesel, Jeanette Mikeska, and Kit Lyle earning officer positions. There was bowling and a Camera Club and even a swim team. A number of juniors posted wins in the annual Science Fair. Ruth Hoesel and Janis Lowe were All Stars of the first place basketball team. Janis Repsdorph and Margaret Rae served as captains of the volleyball teams. Of course we all loved watching our classmates on the football field, the baseball diamond and the basketball court. Everyone was busy and having fun.

Two events that I always recall from that year involved community service. Each homeroom collected food and gifts for a needy family at Christmas time. The students in my group were beyond generous and I loved shopping for the turkey with all of the fixings that we would eventually present to our family. We had enough funds to purchase lovely gifts for every member of the family and sharing our own good fortune with those who had less made Christmas all the more meaningful.

The other big project was collecting enough contributions to purchase an International Scout for missionaries who came to visit our school. They mentioned that their old auto had fallen apart from long and hazardous drives in the mountains of South America. They needed reliable transportation to get from one village to another. Somehow we managed to collect enough donations to provide them with a brand new vehicle designed for rugged terrain. It felt wonderful knowing that we had done something so remarkable.

Lyndon Baines Johnson was inaugurated as the 36th President of the United States in 1965. There were violent outbreaks in Selma Alabama as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. led a procession of 4,000 from Selma to the state capitol of Montgomery. The Beatles and The Rolling Stones started a music invasion from England that would change the direction of music. Dr. Zhivago, The Sound of Music and Help were box office hits at the movies.

In the spring the Class of 1966 honored the seniors of 1965 with Davy Jones Locker a roast and a toast for the soon to be graduates. The nautical theme was spectacular particularly with the wit of Harry Butler who had a surprisingly humorous way with words. We were decked out as sailors and pirates as we gave our nods to each of the members of the class that had come before us. We also began tryouts for cheerleader with a huge group of students performing before the student body. There were even elections for Student Body offices.

I decided to run for Student Body Secretary. I wasn’t as well known as my opponents, Janis Lowe and Judy Loisey but I felt the need to push myself out of my comfort zone. I remember thinking that I was surely going to collapse from fear as I gave my speech to the entire school. My right leg was shaking so hard that I had to lean on the podium to stay upright. Once it was over I was relieved and proud of myself for doing something that had been so painful. I wasn’t elected but I do believe that giving that speech became in many ways the first day of the rest of my life because I was never again afraid to stand before a crowd and speak my mind.

We ended that school year knowing that we would return at the top of the student pecking order to begin our final year at Mt. Carmel High School. The time had flown by so quickly and we were poised to enjoy one of the best years of our lives.