Category: Nostalgia

A Nation of Hermits

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Hermit-crab-GettyImages-597303469-58b66f6f5f9b586046c36d9e.jpgI have been told that my grandfather went shopping every Friday after work. He visited a bookstore and purchased a new volume to read during the coming week and then bought a few groceries which he carried home in a reusable mesh bag. (He was obviously way ahead of his time.) It was an outing that he enjoyed. As a child I accompanied my mother on Saturday shopping excursions. Sometimes we rode the bus into the downtown retail district, but mostly we went to the malls that were just then becoming a new phenomenon all across America. I looked forward to those times with great anticipation because they meant that I would receive a quarter to spend in any way that I chose. When I became an adult I kept the Saturday tradition going with my own daughters and I have warm memories of fun times together.

Eventually my girls left home and I enlisted my mother as a shopping partner once again. As she grew older I religiously visited her every Friday afternoon after work and our adventures always included dining out followed by an excursion to one of her favorite stores. She literally spent hours studying the items displayed in every aisle and buying only those offered for the best possible prices. She always appeared to be so happy just window shopping and I loved being with her talking about this and that as we went about our weekly routine. I suspect that I somehow developed a psychological connection between retail therapy and joyful memories of my mother, because to this very day I find wandering around my favorite stores to be calming.

I sometimes worry that the act of browsing inside boutiques and such will go the way of the dinosaur. I recently heard a news story in which an economist predicted that three fourths of all of the retail merchants that we now know will be gone within a couple of decades, replaced mostly by online giants and mega stores like Walmart. People are more and more often using existing brick and mortar establishments to see what products are like so that they might order the same things from Amazon for lower prices. More and more often we hear of stores closing their doors forever for lack of customers, and even those that appear to be doing well are struggling to keep up with the momentum of online shopping. It seems that people would rather spend their time on weekends enjoying family activities and traveling than perusing racks of clothing inside buildings. Furthermore the cost of renting space and paying for upkeep makes it difficult for traditional establishments to compete with the deals that online businesses are able to provide. The American shopping experience is rapidly changing.

Ironically we are in a sense returning to the old days of the catalog. In the early days of the twentieth century people who lived in more rural areas often shopped from a Sears or JC Penny catalog. Virtually anything that they might have wanted was available including kits for building homes. My father-in-law lives in a house in the Houston Heights that was made from designs sold in the early nineteen hundreds. It is a style that might be seen all across the country because it was a favorite of the catalog buying public during that era. Now we have online inventories from which we can choose most of the things that we use and have them delivered directly to our homes, often without having to pay shipping costs. With a few keystrokes we are able to order our medications, appliances, clothing, gifts and even groceries. There is little reason to get dressed up and venture out. It’s just so much easier to visit the electronic stores.

I have often believed that given enough reasons not to have to leave my home I would easily evolve into being a hermit of sorts. I wonder if today’s world is so fast paced and stressful that most of us are tempted by the idea of finding solace inside the walls of our homes as often as possible. We now have the capacity to enjoy movies, music and culinary experiences without ever venturing into crowded establishments. With Netflix and the like we are able to spend an evening watching great entertainment with all of the snacks we might desire for less than a third of the cost of going to a theater. Best of all we can do it in our pajamas and pause the action at will.

The world is always changing and those of us who cling to past memories may have to learn how to keep up. It appears that the big malls of yesteryear may become empty caverns of curiosity that our grandchildren and great grandchildren will view with wonder. They will marvel at the quaint idea of wandering from one shop to another as a form of entertainment. They will laugh at the impracticality of such ideas as they order their goods and receive them within hours from drones that drop them on their doorsteps.

In some ways the ever changing way of doing business is actually quite wonderful for seniors like me. As we become less and less able to get around we will still be able to procure the items that we need for comfortable and happy living. We will have little need to have a car or worry about transportation. With Uber as our chauffeur and Amazon as our marketplace we will be able to be independent far longer than previous generations. The only thing that worries me is that as we as a society spend more and more of our time inside our homes we run the risk of becoming isolated. Unless we couple the convenience of home shopping with concerted efforts to stay connected with other people we will fall prey to some very unhealthy habits.

It will be quite interesting to see what actually happens in the coming years. The stores that I frequent are still quite busy and I find it difficult to believe that everyone will be accepting of the idea of reinventing the ways of commerce and abandoning the brick and mortar experiences. Nonetheless I have been proven wrong many times before. I laughed at the idea of recording television programs for future viewing. I never dreamed that Blockbuster Video would become a memory of the past. I believed that Amazon was only a phase along with home computers and smart phones. There is no telling what actually lies ahead.

I now have devices in my home that turn on lights and monitor the area while I am gone, ready to alert the police in the event of trouble. I can view the rooms from hundreds of miles away. I receive my medication at my doorstep and purchase all of my Christmas gifts each year without ever having to search for parking spaces at a mall. I watch programs at my own leisure and truly believe that one day I will not have to drive my car because it will be programmed to get me from place to place on its own. I have a robot that cleans my floors just like Rosie in the Jetsons. I eat meals that only require a few minutes of heating time in the microwave. I am as automated as a science fiction story of old and there is definitely going to be more to come. I only hope that in our quest to make our homes all providing castles we do not fall into the trap of becoming a nation of hermits. The temptation is there. We will have to make certain that we find other ways of interacting with our fellow humans. I’m sure that someone already has ideas about how to accomplish that.

On The Road Again

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

299756_thumb.jpgIn just a few more weeks the kids will be out of school for the summer and Americans will be hitting the road for vacations. Thanks to President Dwight Eisenhower we have a fairly decent interstate highway system that links us from one place to another. Traveling by car takes more time than flying, but it is a far more interesting way to go. Driving gives a real sense of geography, the changing landscape and the enormity of our nation. In some ways it is almost like a pilgrimage, a time for relaxation and reflection, a way of getting to know our landscape more intimately. It is on the hidden byways and along the main streets of tiny towns that I truly begin to understand the variety and diversity of the United States. Those long road trips are filled with unforgettable memories of places that I had no idea even existed. Long after I have returned home I picture them in my mind and almost feel as though I am there once again.

As we whiz past homes along the route I find myself wondering who lives in those edifices and how they came to settle in such places. Sometimes the houses are palatial and speak of money and success. Other times they are the size of small huts, filled with signs of poverty and neglect. Since I have no way of knowing the stories of the residents I create descriptions of them from my imagination. I pretend to know what the rooms are like and what the people within them may be doing. It occupies my mind when the miles stretch endlessly ahead.

I love the towns the most. I wonder what the citizens think of those of us who are only passersby. I try to get a sense of why some small places even exist. I begin to realize just how much of America is so different from the metropolis from which I come. I want to stop and tarry for a time but usually have to continue onward to the next place lest I never reach my ultimate destination.

Some of the most wonderful memories that I have are from unexpected places. I can still see the road to Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. It is late afternoon and a storm is brewing. The clouds are dark and foreboding. The people who live in the farmhouses are safely inside with the warm glow of lights radiating from the windows. Even the livestock have taken cover, having more sense than we do as we continue on as the wind whips our vehicle warning us that perhaps being outside is not particularly safe. Then we see a twister moving across a field traveling in our direction. We abruptly change our course as a torrential rain overtakes us. We race back to the tiny town from whence we have most recently come and hurry for cover along with others caught so unexpectedly by the angry forces of nature. As we settle inside I feel a rush of excitement and somehow know that I will never ever forget this experience.

There is another trip that returns to my recollections time and again. On this occasion we are in Utah heading toward Durango, Colorado. The sun bears down relentlessly on our car. Dust on the road coats the paint with a fine red mist. It is unbearably hot but somehow there is a beauty in the utter desolation of the road that we are following. I find myself thinking of the first people who settled in such a wilderness and marvel at their fortitude. While it is magnificent it is also forbidding. I try not to think of what our fate might be if we were to break down or become ill, for there is nobody around. It is as though we have become the only people left on the planet.

It is dark by the time we drive into Durango. We are exhausted and quite famished. We find a restaurant that features a dinner of rainbow trout. A chill has come over the dessert-like climate and so a fire is burning to warm the customers. It is cozy and welcoming and we are quite thankful to have serendipitously stumbled upon such a place. Our food proves to be more excellent than we had imagined it might be. We tarry in the hospitable atmosphere and somehow file away the moment in the part of our brains that holds thoughts of the most treasured times.

Road trips have taken us through Yellowstone National Park in the midst of a raging forest fire. They have shown us a glorious rainbow in Glacier National Park. They have made us laugh as we witnessed the ever present humor of our fellowmen in signs and silly yard displays. They took us along narrow mountain trails and through miles and miles of green corn fields. We have learned of the difficulties of driving through downtown New York City, and chided ourselves for the foolishness in the aftermath. We found old time tunnels through which our vehicle barely made it. We marveled at the manicured vineyards of wineries and the permanent ruts made by the wagons of long ago travelers. We might never have seen any of these wondrous things had we decided to travel by plane. We would have missed them as we flew high above the clouds. What a loss that would have been!

Later this summer we plan to travel to Wyoming in hopes of getting a glimpse at the once in a lifetime solar eclipse that is scheduled to take place in a swath along much of the northwest and midwestern states. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the weather will cooperate and that we will be able to actually witness this phenomenon, but even if things don’t turn out as planned I am confident that our road trip will provide us with many wonderful surprises. We will see things that we had not expected. Just thinking of the possibilities is rather exciting.

Thank you, Henry Ford, for making the automobile accessible to the common man. Thank you, President Eisenhower, for insisting that we have a nation of good roads. Thank you to the little people everywhere who set up the gasoline stations, restaurants and places to rest for the night. Because of such innovations my world has been much more expansive than it might otherwise have been. I am a far different and better person for seeing so much of this wondrous country. I can’t wait to get on the road again with the strains of Willie Nelson filling the cabin of our car. Who knows what lies ahead?

The Strong

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

AlejandroAt one of my grandsons’ recent track meets there was a fun race that featured beefy football players running against one another. Of course there was also a big twist to the competition. Each of the guys, who looked like defensive linemen, had to carry a tire as they circled the track. They had everyone laughing and having a good time, and I was reminded of a story that my grandfather loved to tell.

Grandpa grew up in small town Virginia. In fact he was so far out in the country that he wasn’t even sure if the place where he lived even had a name. The townspeople had to create their own entertainment. There were no theaters or musical venues or such, just whatever talent they were able to throw together from the locals.

On one occasion the citizens decided to have a race between the biggest guys in the county. The idea was that they would have to run through a course carrying heavy barrels of flour. They had to ford rivers, climb over fences and go through fields strewn with rocks while lugging the heavy containers. The path extended for several miles and was so treacherous that only a truly strong man would be able to survive the grueling adventure.

Grandpa said that everybody’s money was on one particular man who was built like  Paul Bunyan. His arms and legs rippled with muscle and he was well over six feet tall. My grandfather was in total awe of this contender, and so he wagered a small amount of his earnings on the outcome.

From the beginning of the race this incredible hulk of a man sprinted far ahead of the competition. Nothing seemed to stop him and in one phenomenal show of prowess he even climbed over a fence without stopping to set down the heavy barrel. Grandpa laughed as he pointed out that there was actually no contest, and his bet was as safe as if he had placed his money in the bank.

We humans have always had a fascination with individuals who hone their bodies into powerful machines. Here in the Houston area we are all enamored with J.J. Watt, an affable defensive player for the Houston Texans who at times seems to most surely be related to Superman. He has performed some spectacular feats on the football field and in the locker room, including jumping from a standing position to the top of a chest that was at least three or four feet off of the ground. When I think of J.J. I understand the admiration that my grandfather had for his hometown strong man.There is something almost mystical about such people. They metaphorically represent the strength of mind and body that we all wish to have.

Of course we are not all made of the necessary stuff to enable us to accomplish such remarkable physical feats. Even in the race with the tires that made us all laugh at my grandsons’ track meet there was one young participant who was significantly smaller than the rest and in spite of tremendous grit he was not able to keep up with the bigger boys. Still, there was something quite appealing about his willingness to try even as he fell farther and farther behind. In the end he received as much cheering and applause as the winner. We all somehow knew that his positive attitude was as laudable as size and speed.

My grandfather’s stories all had a common theme, namely that we humans are continually faced with challenges and the best among us fight with all of their might to succeed. He himself overcame one difficulty after another, and somehow lived to tell about his adventures with a hint of laughter and the wisdom of someone who had traveled along life’s highway for one hundred eight years.

We love our athletes because we understand how much hard work and pain it takes for them to do the things that they do. They push themselves beyond the limits that so many of us simply accept. This is also true of those who take their minds to heights of thinking and learning that literally result in unheard of discoveries. There are people among us who are not satisfied with being ordinary and their dedication to their craft separates them from the ordinary.

A couple of weeks ago one of the former students of KIPP Houston High School performed in his senior recital at Wabash College. To say that Alejandro Reyna is talented would be an understatement as evidenced by what he has achieved since the beginning of his education there. As a freshman he regularly wrote a blog detailing the adjustments that he had to make in a place far away from home with a culture unlike his own. His openness and sincerity made his writing an instant hit, but it was only the beginning of the incredible things that he would ultimately do. By the time that he had reached his senior year he had composed original music for oboe, piano and strings in addition to being a proficient singer. The works that he wrote were stunning and plant him firmly in the ranks of incredibly talented individuals. In his own way he is as splendid as the strong men who have been the stuff of fascinating legends. We will most surely continue to hear from this exceptional man. 

Each of us is endowed with particular talents, but we don’t always push ourselves to be our very best. Athletes work hard and often ignore pain. Those who are brilliant move beyond the ordinary in their quest for knowledge and answers to questions. There is much perspiration involved in achieving greatness and that is why we humans are so in awe of those who push the envelope of life. They become our heroes and live in the stories that we tell of them. Alejandro Reyna has already earned a place among them and he has only begun.   

The Importance of Stuff

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

antiques-booth-1My eyes used to glaze over whenever my mother-in-law began recounting her family history. She had worked quite hard to unravel the mysteries of her ancestry. Her quest for answers paid off with a great deal of information that she excitedly related to us in the hopes that we would remember. At the time I suspect that I was a bit too young to truly care about the names and the tales of which she spoke. Now I am duly fascinated by learning not only of her kin but my own. In some ways my husband and I have become the family historians, the keepers of the the tales and artifacts that bring long dead relatives back to life. I now see such responsibility as an honor and I am belatedly scurrying to preserve the information that I know lest it evaporates when I am gone.

I have rooms of my home filled with furniture and objects that once graced the homes of the people from whom my husband and I descended. I treasure them not so much for their value as for the lives of the people that they represent. I try to tell my children and grandchildren who they belonged to and what they meant to those individuals. I’m not certain that they truly understand. Sadly they are still mostly in the state of mind that I had when my dear mother-in-law tried so hard to get me interested. I suppose that something must have stuck in spite of my lack of enthusiasm, because now I am quite driven to learn even more lest we forget. In fact one of my girls recently laughed at me and called me “Granny” the name that she had for my mother-in-law because I was so insistent that she pay attention to the information that I was conveying.

The world is changing rapidly, sometimes far too quickly for my taste, which is a definite sign of age. I recently read that today’s young people view the antiques and collectibles of their parents and grandparents as junk. They prefer more modern furnishings and tend to donate any old things that they inherit to the Salvation Army or Goodwill. They have big estate sales to get rid of the unwanted items. It makes me a bit sad and worried that so much of what presently resides in my home may one day just become a nuisance to those who are left when I am gone. I would like to believe that in between my two daughters and seven grandchildren surely there will be someone who will step up to be the next keeper of the family flame. My treasures are important to me because they represent real people and are part of the hopes and dreams of their lives.

I have a very old pitcher from my great grandmother, Christina. It doesn’t look like much but it feels magical to know that she once held it in her hands. From my great grandfather, John William Seth Smith, I have discharge papers from the Union army at the end of the Civil War. They hold his signature, the only image of him that I have. That scroll across the paper makes him very much alive in my mind. My grandmother Minnie gave me these things when I was still a very young girl and urged me to care for them always, which I have even when I still did not understand their significance.

There is far more from my mother-in-law. We have beautiful furniture that belonged to her mother, aunt and grandmothers. It is truly quite lovely and enhances our home with style and intersting stories of the people who once owned the pieces. I have to admit to being quite happy that my mother-in-law worked so hard to preserve those memories for us. They link us to both our past and our present and are physical signs of the lives of their owners.

I have dishes, linens, and tableware. Sadly there are books about which I worry because the pages are becoming weak and will one day fall apart, which I suppose is the natural way of things. My favorite is a child’s book that once belonged to my father. It may well have been the first thing that he ever read. Perhaps it even began his love affair with reading. I enjoy looking through the pages but I have to be careful because it has become quite delicate. It must be getting close to being one hundred years old.

I can only hope that there will one day be another who cherishes the humble offerings from the past. Perhaps both of my daughters will truly appreciate the photos and stories that I have saved. They loved their grandmothers so and I suspect that they will want to keep their memories alive at least for the time being. It will be interesting to see who among my grandchildren has a bent for sentimentality.

I try to visit the grave sites of my parents and grandparents and those of my husband’s kin as well. We regularly make a day of bringing flowers and spending time remembering the people who were so much a part of our lives. I sense that we are the only ones in our families who do this anymore because there are no signs that anyone else has visited. It makes me a bit sad to think that the time will come when nobody remembers them or goes to honor them.

I know that many people today think that cremation is the best way to handle death. It is not particularly expensive and it is environmentally friendly. They see little reason to set aside land for eternity just to keep the dust of those who died long ago. They may have a point but there is still something a bit reassuring in those everlasting memorials wherever they may be. I was greatly touched by finding the grave site of my great grandmother Christina. I felt a thrill in being beside her ashes or whatever is left of her. I wanted her to know how things had turned out for at least one of her twelve children and their descendants. I stood in a lonely field with the wind blowing across my face. It was deadly silent save for the chirping of nearby birds. I felt a communion with her that I might otherwise never have had. It was a truly moving moment in which I sensed her life and that of all the women before her. I am but a single link in a chain that will hopefully continue infinitely.

Perhaps I am becoming a bit silly as I grow older. I find myself appreciating things that my mother and mother-in-law did and said far more than I once did. I like thinking about the stories that they told and feeling close to them just from recalling those tidbits about their lives. I like visiting with them in the places where they are buried on sunny afternoons and leaving posies to brighten the places where they now rest. I really do hope that the very young come around in their thinking about the artifacts that were left behind by their ancestors just as I finally did. Things are not so important but the people that they represent are the stuff of who we are.

An Education

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

free-spirits-ii-13891She was unlike anyone that I had ever known, a free spirit who seemed to float blissfully above the rules of society. She walked through life as though she owned the world, but in reality had few possessions of any merit. More often than not she kept her feet bare, unfettered, even at formal occasions. She was from the north but boasted that once she had found the south there was no turning back. She was an artist, an intellectual, a high school dropout. I could hear her coming in the battered and ancient pick up truck that was her pride and joy. It allowed her to haul items that might one day come in handy for one of her many projects that were rarely fully completed. Her mind skipped merrily from one idea to another with grand bursts of genius. Such it was with our friendship, glorious kinship until she was drawn like a moth to other places.

When she left we both pledged our fealty and promised that we would make great efforts to stay in touch. I even drove a rather long distance to her new home once, a littered slot in a trailer park that was made merry by a colorful garden that she had planted in an old wooden box. She greeted me warmly and we spent an afternoon sipping on herbal teas and laughing at her stories while her children ran like free range chickens in old fashioned play. She never owned a television and didn’t want one. She preferred entertainment from imagination and it was all she really needed because hers was so vibrant. She reminded me of a gypsy princess, exotically beautiful with a fiery personality. I had seen her face down the devil himself and walk away with her head thrown back in haughty victory.

Her husband was a car mechanic and she was madly in love with him, so much so that she had run away with him on the back of his motorcycle. It broke her parents’ hearts and even her relationship with them for a time. Eventually they came around when they saw how deliriously happy she was. She had left the mundaneness of her upstate New York upbringing for adventures that few of us ever experience. She purposely kept few possessions feeling that they held her back whenever wanderlust took hold. Her family was free to go wherever and whenever the winds blew. There were cars to be repaired by her husband everywhere, and her art was as easily created in a small unknown town as in a large urban area.

Eventually she was gone again, too far away this time to pursue. She was not one for exchanging phone numbers or addresses and our acquaintance was in a time before cell phones, email and social media. Our friendship became only a wonderful memory of time spent with a truly ephemeral spirit. Somehow I had known all along that it would not be a permanent thing. I simply enjoyed the moment, knowing that some people cannot set down roots. They must always be on the go, discovering parts of the world that most of us never see.

I still think of her and so many others who have passed through the parade of people I have known. I wonder if any of them ever realized how much I learned from them, how important they were in shaping me into the person that I am today. Each of us encounter individuals who find their way into our hearts, and while their stay is only temporary their influence is forever. There is something about them that we never quite forget no matter how many years and decades pass. Now and again we think of them and hope that they are doing well.

I gravitated toward strong-willed women at a time when I was shy and weak. I observed their behaviors and learned from them. It was an education without walls, so real and meaningful. I surrounded myself with ladies who had known grief, abuse and hard times. They had emerged with dignity and an unwavering sense of themselves. I was their intern, someone longing to learn from them. Like a sponge I soaked up their spirit and determination to face down whatever challenges arose. They did not have degrees or certifications but they were perhaps the smartest people I had ever known. I encountered them when I was struggling to find myself and they showed me how to be what I wanted to be, not what others wanted for me. They taught me how to respect even the most humble and broken among us, treating them with the dignity that everyone deserves.

I suppose I might attempt to find some of them like Diane or Rosie or Debbie. It isn’t that difficult a task with the Internet and all of its resources. Somehow though, I don’t think that it would be wise to do so. I believe that I was only supposed to know them for a certain time during which they would help me to emerge from my awkward cocoon. Their spirits have remained in my heart and they have been there again and again smiling and guiding me.

They would be old ladies now with middle aged children and perhaps a number of grandchildren. We might not even recognize one another even if we were to pass in a crowd. We went our separate ways long ago. Our personal demands overtook us leaving little time for the idle chit chat that we enjoyed when our babies toddled under our watchful eyes. We each found new homes, new jobs, new adventures that moved us farther and farther apart until one day we had lost each other, but never the memories.

We are the sum total of all of the events and people that we have ever known. Their influence lives inside of us and is even passed down to our children long after our acquaintances are done. We find the individuals that we most need at exactly the right times. It is almost magical the way that happens. There are so many who gave me so much of themselves along my journey who are now strangers. I would so like for them to know how much they helped me and how grateful I am that I once knew them. I’d like to think that things turned out as well for them as they did for me.