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Being What You Want Them To Be

Published on June 8, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

babyfeet Language is a very funny thing. When we speak or write down our thoughts we generally have a purpose and a specific meaning in mind. Once our words move beyond our control, too far from us to explain them, they may take on a life of their own that we never intended. Just recently I wrote what was supposed to be a very complimentary essay but because of the focus that I chose and the ideas that I left out, my attempt at honoring someone became instead a means of slighting a person whom I hold in great esteem. It took some effort for me to unravel the gooey mess that I had inadvertently created. Thus it is and always will be whenever we attempt to convey ideas and thus is the reason that I will most likely anger some people with today’s blog.

The court of public opinion is awash with horror over the sentencing of Brock Turner for three felony convictions of sexual assault. Not only are people aghast that his punishment appears to be too lenient but they are even critical of comments that his father made in a letter to the judge pleading for a measure of sympathy for Brock. None of this might be such big news were it not for a touching and powerful letter from the victim of Brock’s assault that has captivated those who have taken the time to read it. She is a gifted writer who has managed with great clarity to convey the horror of living through such an attack and its life changing aftermath. Her eloquence brings her heartbreak to life, making her terror all the more real. Only a soul without a shred of sensitivity might read her account without experiencing a strong and sympathetic reaction.

I have been greatly saddened since hearing about this case and realizing that it is but one of thousands that occur on a regular basis. Long ago when I was about the same age as the victim in this instance, I lived in an apartment project that had a wonderful community spirit. Many of us gathered outside in the evenings to share stories of our days and to relax just a bit while we watched our children play. One of the women that I met in this way was returning from the laundry room one afternoon when she was followed by a stranger that she did not notice. Before she realized what was happening he was inside her home putting a knife to her throat. He threatened to kill her and her baby if she made even a sound. Then he violently raped her. She was never the same. The incident broke her once lively spirit. She couldn’t even stand to live in the rooms that reminded her of the attack so she went to her mother’s home while her husband prepared to move the family away permanently. The incident both frightened and saddened those who had known her and to make matters worse her attacker was never found.

I will never in any way condone what Brock Turner did on that January night in the aftermath of a fraternity party. There are no valid excuses. He may not have ever done anything similar in all of his days on earth but it only took that one time for him to forever ruin the life of the woman of whom he took advantage. He certainly trashed his own future as well which is what happens when one forgets to abide by the laws of common decency. He may be wishing everyday that he might go back in time and not do this despicable act or get drunk or even go to the frat party but what is done is done and he will pay the price of his actions forevermore. He will ever again be in contention for a spot on an Olympic swimming team. He will be lucky to get any kind of decent job given his record of three felony convictions. Everywhere that he attempts to go he will have to register as a sex offender. He is and will probably always be a pariah in our society because of his unthinking and offensive actions. He has not only harmed a woman who can’t quite move beyond what he did to her, but he has also dishonored his family and all of the people who once believed in him. He will have to live with his crime for the rest of his days and that is as it should be.

I have not been able to erase Brock Turner’s victim from my mind since I first read the vivid account of her continuing ordeal. I feel a level of sympathy for his parents as well for Brock has irreparably harmed them. Raising children is the most difficult and frightening job that there is. All of us who have attempted this know of the worries, sleepless nights and mistakes that we make. We hope and pray that we have said all that we need to say and that our children will truly understand the lessons we have taught them. When we first allow them freedom and independence we try to quell our fears but in truth we are always nervous because we understand that the who they will eventually become are not just a products of our making, but also of the many people who influence them along the way. The truth is that there comes a time when we as parents exert less and less control over them. We have to watch them from afar. Only when time and their actions demonstrate that they are indeed the good and honest citizens that we taught them to be do we begin to relax.

Brock Turner’s father wrote a letter to the judge asking for mercy for his son just as most of us might have done for one of our children. His persuasive ability and way with words is the polar opposite of the victim who so captivated our hearts with her inspiring essay. His remarks are so tone deaf and poorly expressed that it might have been better had he not written anything at all. That being said, defending our kids even when they have disappointed us beyond measure is what we parents do. I cannot fault him for his efforts. He loves his son and I suspect that the negative interpretations that people have placed on his thoughts are not what he meant at all. Now he is being castigated and blamed for his son’s actions as though he is somehow responsible. Without knowing anything about this man or what his household is like, the public has jumped to negative conclusions that may or may not have merit. We have convicted Brock’s father without a trial or evidence. Our judgement of him is based on hearsay and a badly crafted note and it is morally wrong to convict him without proof that his negligence or influence somehow created a criminal.

We might be better served if instead of gossiping on the Facebook wall and Twitter universe we were to talk with our children both male and female. Each of them has certain behavioral responsibilities and we must be certain that they learn how to keep their baser human instincts in check. The temptations that they will encounter are many and part of our job is to train them to recognize dangerous situations and to know what to do when we are no longer around to monitor them. It is incumbent on all parents to talk frequently and openly with their kids. Our young need to be taught how to respect themselves and in turn provide that same reverence to everyone with whom they interact. We can’t drum human decency into their minds often enough and it is never too early to start such conversations and to demonstrate what we mean by our own examples. We need to be what we want them to be.

One of my grandsons who was only in elementary school complained about a student who was discussing sexual ideas in a very crass and demeaning way at lunch each day. The teachers and counselors made little effort to stop the offending commentaries and instead implied that my grandson just needed to lighten up a bit. As long as our society encourages a “boys will be boys attitude” there will continue to be cases of abuse like Brock Turner’s. As a society have to consider the impact of our tendencies to avoid talking with our children about the uglier aspects of human behavior. Instead of wagging our self righteous fingers at Brock Turner’s father we need to be certain that we are doing all that we can to educate our kids and help them to understand the importance of honoring every human life in every circumstance.

A terrible tragedy has ruined the lives of many, many people. The victim will never again have the sense of trust that she once possessed. Her family and friends will feel her pain and worry about her forevermore. Brock’s parents will be wracked with guilt, shame and humiliation. Brock Turner will pay the price of his actions and it will be heavy whether he spends time in jail or has to find a place for himself in a world where many view him as a monster. Nobody wins and all because he did not stop himself from performing grotesque actions on a woman that he did not know. Let his story be a tale of warning for all of us and let it remind us of our own responsibilities.

Unicorns and Trolls

Published on May 19, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

karl_iphone5c I have to admit that we are living in very confusing and sometimes frightening times. Having a plane disappear in route from Paris to Cairo doesn’t help to ease my concerns. There is saber rattling all over the world and in the meantime our political parties are warring within their ranks and with each other. It almost seems as though the whole world has decided that everyone must choose a side and then remain firmly in the confines of their respective tribes. For those of us rebellious enough to see ourselves as having “live and let live points of view,” the current rage seems especially counterproductive.

I posit the Middle East as evidence of my thinking. Most of the countries there, with the profound exception of Israel, are united in their Muslim faith but with severe caveats. There are countless sects and tribes dating back to ancient times that are warring from within. Instead of working together to solve problems they fight for the power to subject every other group to their wishes. The trouble in Iraq, for example, has always been about finding a way for the Shia and Suni Muslims to live in peace. Saddam Hussein was only successful because he was a brutal tyrant who favored his own kind and forced the rest of the population to live in constant fear.

Somehow that is how it is lately feeling in these United States. We have developed an “either or” kind of mentality. There are dichotomies from which we are expected to choose and the more we argue, the more radical the fringes become. Each side eyes the other with disdain and loathing. We distrust our lawmakers, our educators and our doctors. We either want to throw the baby out with the bath water or lock him in his room. Everything is about winners and losers with bragging rights for those who bully their way to the top. The idea of compromise and honoring differences appears to be a quaint but flawed way of doing business. It’s dog eat dog and everyone else be damned. We have turned neighbor against neighbor and even within families there are enormous rifts.

I have been thinking about such things while pursuing a seemingly unrelated hobby, genealogy. I have one grandmother whose ancestors I have traced all the way back to people with unpronounceable names who lived in Norway in the 700s. I have not once been able to find a single clue as to my grandfather’s identity even after five years of peering into every possibility. All I know is what he told me about himself and it is a sad tale indeed. His mother died only days after he was born and his father was somewhat of an irresponsible miscreant who had no intention of raising a baby. A woman that he believed to be his grandma cared for him until he was thirteen when she died leaving him orphaned and wondering where to go. He chose a man who was his uncle to be his financial guardian but went to live with his father until he was just barely old enough to take on the world by himself. He led the lonely life of a wanderer, moving from town to town to find construction work. He was already forty years old when he met my grandmother and finally fell in love. She was the one person who faithfully and unconditionally gave him the emotional support that had been denied for most of his life. She was his everything and he spent his final years holding tightly to the memories of the wonderful moments that he had shared with her.

It seems to me that we human beings when stripped down to our barest essentials are mostly alike in our need for the comforting presence of love. Each of us wants to be respected and accepted just as we are, not as someone else thinks we should be. Sadly our present world insists that we instead conform to whatever group manages to get the ball. At any given moment some factions feel bullied by others in an impasse that only tears away at the very fabric of society.

We need to find ways that work for each individual, which is indeed a tall order. We know from past experience that what has always worked best is being flexible and having a willingness to accommodate the diversity of needs that we humans possess. History is replete with examples of how this works. After World War I the victors were determined to severely punish the defeated governments. It seemed only fair given the havoc that they had created but it ultimately led to even more hard feelings that bred angry resentments. The upshot was the rise of nationalism and a character named Adolf Hitler. When World War II ended the victorious nations remembered their mistakes from the previous war and instead set up a plan to help everyone to rebuild. This time Germany had the means to support its people and to become a model democracy. In other words, it was a willingness to be forgiving and understanding that led to more palatable results.

We have to cease punishing one another for simply being human and for having differing views. We have to learn how to use Facebook, Twitter and the ballot box for the common good rather than vile retribution. It bothers me that our members of Congress and the Supreme Court always align according to party platforms. I think it would be quite refreshing to see a more fluid government with decisions based on each individual question rather than an ironclad and unswerving philosophy. If our Founding Fathers had been as averse to compromise as our government is today we would still be subject to the rule of the kings and queens of England.

My grandfather was an avid reader and historian. He had a wisdom born from a full lifetime of experiences. He watched his money and his possessions come and go. When he died at the age of 108 he owned little more than a handful of clothes and his books. His riches lay in the relationships that he had experienced in his lifetime. When all was said and done nothing mattered more to him than the loving moments with his family and friends. He understood that life is often harsh and filled with almost unbearable challenges but as long as we each have someone who accepts us for who we are without any strings attached, we are ultimately going to be fine.

Whether or not someone is religious or atheist, democrat or republican, gay or straight, rich or poor should not matter. We have to get back to respecting and honoring each other so that we might unite behind the goals that matter most. I’d hate to see us divide ourselves at the very moment when the world is so on fire with the kind of strife that tribal thinking produces. I don’t believe in unicorns nor do I think that there are troll behind every corner. Mostly I see good people wherever I go whether north or south, east or west. Let’s start a movement and send a loud message to those that represent us that we want a world that allows us to be united in our freedom, not divided by our fears. In the end all any of us ever really want is the same as what Grandpa desired, someone to make us feel loved.

There Is Room At Our Inn

Published on May 11, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

f41a8570f98033234e38d8be706b27c6 Close your eyes and try to imagine life as you have always known it turned upside down. Your country is engaged in a civil war. The leader of your nation is a dictatorial tyrant. The members of the opposing factions are revolutionaries. You just want peace and to be left alone but that is impossible. The differing sides fight one another year after year. The beautiful city where you live has been reduced to rubble. You exist in a kind of ghost town because most of your friends and neighbors have already fled the destruction. Your children have no school to attend, no playmates, no security. They roam through piles of rubble and entertain themselves by exploring abandoned homes and buildings. Food and basic necessities are scarce. Your life has turned into a living hell. Your home is no longer a refuge. You reluctantly realize that the only option for you and your family is to leave the place that you love.

Giving up is not an easy decision to make. You are departing from a lifetime of memories and possessions. You carry only a change of clothes and perhaps a few precious mementos from the life you have known. As you exit you look back at your tiny corner of the world, perhaps for the very last time. You have no way of knowing what lies ahead. You have taken a forced leap of faith. Your heart is broken. You tell yourself that property and things are unimportant and that it is in the people that your true joy lies. As long as you are with your loved ones, you believe that you will ultimately be okay. Somehow you know that reality is never as simple as that, but you do what you must do. You embark on a journey into the great unknown. You begin again and hope for the best.

This morning as we enjoy the comfort of our own lives there are refugees from Syria and other troubled nations fleeing from war and persecution. They may look different from us and speak in tongues that we can’t understand but if we were able to talk with them we would learn that they are very much like us. They would rather be enjoying the routines that defined their days before political, religious and tribal fighting upended all that they had ever known. Their children are like our children, wanting to play and laugh. They are innocents caught up in forces over which they have no control. All that they desire is to keep themselves and their children safe but the world can at times be so cruel.

Most of these people now live in deplorable conditions in tent cities swarming with rats and infectious diseases. They await permission to travel to distant places where many of the citizens deplore their very presence. They are viewed with disdain by strangers who fear them. They are seen in the abstract, as nameless masses rather than the individuals that they are. Sometimes their situations become so painful that they take desperate risks to find a semblance of sanity. They never chose to be in this position. It was thrust upon them through no fault of their own and yet they are reviled by so many.

Throughout the history of the world there have been people reduced to becoming nomads because of the heartless decisions of those in power. The Israelites were enslaved by the Egyptians and later roamed in the wilderness in search of a home. Humans have been sold as slaves by warring tribes. My own grandparents lived in poverty and hopelessness in the Austro-Hungarian empire. Their entire way of life was threatened with extinction by a government that refused to even allow them to speak their own language. They left for the opportunities and promise in the United States, a place that did not always welcome them. They persisted but their early years were filled with challenges and ignorant prejudice.

My sister-in-law and her family had to flee their homeland of China when she was just a small girl. They left wearing layers of clothing and heavy coats with valuables sewn inside the lining. Their journey was treacherous and filled with uncertainty. Like today’s refugees they were forced to leave a world that they loved for one that they knew little about. They left behind people who had been important to them, whom they might never again see. Their move was traumatic but necessary. Had they stayed they may have been imprisoned or punished by being reduced to a state of poverty. They had no recourse but to leave and to hope that they would find a new home where they might be content.

After the fall of South Vietnam many of those who had sympathized with the losing side also had to escape. They found sponsors and homes all across the United States. I taught some of them. They proved to be fine people, outstanding citizens. They adapted and learned and worked just like my grandparents and my sister-in-law did. They enriched the American landscape.

There are many reasons why the flood of refugees from the Middle East may frighten Americans. We have witnessed terrorist attacks and we worry that jihadis may be hiding in the ranks of the ragtag people seeking asylum. Losing even one life because of a cavalier and unchecked sympathy for the masses seems to be too high a price to pay and yet our common sense tells us that the likelihood of ordinary families aspiring to become murderers is slim. We have to ask ourselves if we can possibly be so cold as to turn our backs on people who are suffering so much. Each of us no doubt has a story of an ancestor who sought out our country to escape from some form of persecution. Even the British branch of my genealogy points to individuals bound to lives of servitude in England who preferred the freedoms of the new world. It is in all of our natures to want to find liberty from tyranny.

I understand that the world is overwhelmed by the problems in the Middle East. I realize that there are truly evil people who hate us and wish us dead. I know that our resources are limited and we can’t possibly solve every problem in the world. Still, I look at children living in hopelessness and squalor and I wonder why we can’t be more open to offering them a way out of their misery. In the end we all want the best for our kids no matter who we are. We take a risk every single day that our goodness will be thrown back in our faces. There is no guarantee that we are not already breeding monsters who will one day do us harm. An ugly aspect of the human experience is that there are horrifically deranged people in every culture, every part of the world. It is neither more nor less likely that we will find such sorts within the people that we choose to help. It is simply a reality of life that those intent on destruction will find a way in spite of our best efforts. We needn’t punish an entire group base on an isolated fear. It has generally been an American tradition to open our hearts and risk being hurt from one for the good of the many.

We may be protected by the oceans on the two sides of our country but we are not isolated from the rest of the world. Their problems ultimately become ours and hiding our heads in the sand has never worked out well. Our finest moments as a nation have been when we opened our arms to welcome the newest immigrants and refugees. Most of us would not even be here if earlier generations has turned our ancestors away. We are a land of many colors, multiple ethnicities, different cultures. All of us blended together are what America is all about. I think that we do indeed have room for more.

Those of us who are Christians are all too familiar with the story of Jesus and His family. He was born in a stable because his parents were traveling to fulfill the demands of the census. The roads and the byways were crowded and there was no room for them at the inn. Let us not be guilty of turning away those who need our help. Let us find room at our inn.

The Butterfly Effect

Published on April 26, 2016April 26, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

butterfly-effect

The world is such a complex and sometimes confounding place. Here in the United States we are fascinated by the Democratic and Republican primaries and buzzing over the meaning of Beyonce’s newest album. Meanwhile over in Nepal the people who suffered great loss in the earthquakes of just a year ago are still waiting resignedly for some kind of relief. They live in tents and tin shanties without any real hope that they will soon find the comfort for which they long. Even if financial compensation is forthcoming it will amount to only around $2000. We complain that our lifestyles are not improving and they quietly accept that the world is corrupt and unfair. Just as time is relative so is one’s economic and political state. Continue reading “The Butterfly Effect” →

Purple Rain

Published on April 21, 2016April 22, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

purple-rain-3
Mike and I went to the Greater Houston Scout Fair on Saturday but didn’t get to stay long because it began to rain on us. Afterward we took a little tour of Houston, first driving into the Upper Kirby area and then through River Oaks. We had nothing pressing to do so we continued to meander along Allen Parkway and into downtown Houston. From there we drove along Navigation past my mom’s childhood home, around the turning basin of the Ship Channel and then down Broadway all the way to Hobby Airport.

Ironically I pointed out how placid Buffalo Bayou was on Saturday and thought of my mother’s stories of swimming in its waters when she was young. She often told me that the banks of that waterway were filled with native trees and plants and creatures of every sort back then. She and her brothers thought of it as a kind of paradise. On Saturday I bemoaned the fact that so many of our bayous have been desecrated with concrete walls. Our once beautiful ribbons of water are more like drainage ditches that don’t always function as well as we would like. Mike and I had a brief discussion about Braes, White Oak, and Sims bayous and the memories that we had of them from our own youths. I thought of how wonderful it would be if we were to return those areas to their natural state, creating lovely parks for the citizenry to enjoy. Continue reading “Purple Rain” →