Nostalgia – Page 32 – All It Takes Is A Little Love

The Rock

Published on September 20, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

10245585_10203403388626110_6869636648318012857_n I met a boy over forty years ago at my cousin’s birthday party. He fascinated me from the moment that he entered the celebration stylishly late. He might have walked straight off of a cover of GQ magazine with his cutting edge fashion sense but it was his confidence that caught my eye. He had only recently returned from attending Loyola University in New Orleans and he bore the international bohemian flair of the residents of that city. He was indeed quite different from the other attendees at the celebration and I was as drawn to him as a moth to a light, making a fool of myself as usual with far too much nervous idle chatter.

When he called me a week later and suggested that he’d like to take me to a movie I was dumbfounded. Somehow he seemed far too sophisticated to want to spend time with a bumpkin like me but he was quite sure of himself so I didn’t question his motives. Instead I decided to go along for the ride as long as it lasted.

He arrived at my house looking once again as though he had been hanging with the in crowd of high society, casually wearing a pair of madras slacks that had been tailored to fit him perfectly along with carefully polished brown penny loafers bearing no sign of the white socks that most of my male friends usually wore. A perfectly starched blue shirt topped off with a navy blue blazer completed his look making him appear to be the most handsome person I had ever known. I felt a bit overwhelmed and underdressed as I answered the door in my off the sale rack outfit from Penny’s. Somehow we didn’t seem to go together but I would soon enough learn that my first impression was so totally wrong.

We began a conversation on the way to the movie that would continue through the decades. We found that we shared so much in common that our interests overtook our social and economic differences. Superficialities mattered little as we talked as though we had been the best of friends for all of our lives. Ours was an exciting and easy flow of communication in which we were able to fill in the blanks for one another and anticipate what the next topic might be. I felt as though I had finally met my very best friend and I had only known him a few hours.

After that we became inseparable, spending as much time together as two college students might spare and still take care of business. Somehow I knew that I had truly met my soulmate even though I was incredibly young and naive. I was still quite shy with the world but never with him. I had grown up in an isolated neighborhood with a huge safety net just waiting to catch me if I fell. He had witnessed the vices of the Crescent City and his stories of his time there fascinated me but I was even more enthralled with his intellect. He possessed an uncanny ability to recall the smallest of details from the things that he had read. He was almost encyclopedic in his knowledge of history.

Ours was a whirlwind courtship played out against a backdrop of war and political intrigue. By the time that he proposed that we marry the easygoing world that had defined our childhood was forever gone. It had been replaced with dramatic cultural shifts that set fire to much of what we had once known. Some of those changes were far overdue while others only served to awaken our cynicism and sense of urgency. We felt as though we needed to hurry if we were to grab a slice of happiness in a world that had seemingly gone mad. We dove into a life together with full force and never once looked back with regret. It became a magnificent journey filled with all of the elements of a saga. Along the way we encountered the totality of the human experience and somehow managed to keep our heads above water no matter how crazy things became, always continuing our conversation and finding fun in even the simplest adventures.

Nowadays that boy is a man with thinning white hair. He long ago eschewed the call of fashion in favor of more practical and less expensive clothing. He is after all a husband, father and grandfather concerned with the well being of an ever expanding brood. He has little time or concern for outward appearances. He has become a practical man whose very existence is governed by a desire to keep his family safe and happy. He requires little more to feel content than to know that everyone is okay.

He is enjoying his retirement after years of hard work dedicated to making me and our two girls as comfortable as possible. He is still a romantic who looks at me with a special twinkle in his eyes. He is all in all a very good man whose entire focus has always been on our crazy extended family. He has spoiled me and our daughters not in a materialistic way but with unconditional love that has made us confident and strong.

Today is that man’s birthday, the final year in his sixth decade of life. He just celebrated with a trip to his favorite part of the world, the Rocky Mountains. He spent time with me and friends doing the things that he most loves. I still see that young lion that I met so many years ago whenever he smiles at me. He is a beautiful man that I was fortunate enough to encounter. He has changed my life in ways that I never thought possible and I am all the better because of his influence. I should be giving him a gift on his special day but somehow it always feels as though I am the eternal recipient of his favors and his love. He is the rock upon which all of us who know him depend.

Happy Birthday, Mike. I can only hope that there will be many, many more.

Brave Courageous and Bold

Published on September 16, 2016September 8, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

wyatt-earp I wasn’t allowed to watch much television when I was a child. My mother thought it prudent to limit the amount of time that I spent sitting in front of the box with its black and white images. She much preferred that I play outside or read. As the popularity of this new invention grew she began to relent just a bit but still insisted that she be the one to chose the programming that I was allowed to see. Being a woman she wasn’t particularly inclined to select westerns but for me those were far and away the best of the offerings.

The first adult western offered during primetime viewing hours was The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp starring Hugh O’Brian, a dashingly handsome man who supposedly was chosen for the role because he resembled an early photograph of the real Wyatt Earp. The show premiered in September of 1955 and ran until 1961. Four weeks after Wyatt Earp came on the air Gunsmoke joined its ranks. At one point in time there were more than twenty different western themed series being offered by the three big networks, many of them inspired by the success of Wyatt Earp.

I loved visiting my uncles Jack and Louie. They were western fanatics and while my mother was being otherwise entertained I was able to get my fill of those remarkable programs while sitting next to them in the dark. The lead characters became my heroes and I learned the theme songs for my favorite shows by heart. I’d ride around the neighborhood on my bicycle bellowing, “Wyatt Earp, Wyatt Earp, brave courageous and bold. Long live his fame and long live his glory and long may his story be told.” It gave me a bit of credibility with my friends to be so well versed in the more important aspects of kid life.

I had little idea that there had actually been a real man named Wyatt Earp whose story was a bit less impressive than the television counterpart. I only knew that he and the other cowboys who lit up the screen were always good looking, brave, honest and loyal men who fought for what was right. They were role models for all time. Little did I understand that in reality the men and women of the wild west hardly resembled their Hollywood posers. I innocently dreamed of their exploits and heroics and sometimes imagined that my two uncles might have made fine lawmen had they happened to live in the era portrayed on the screens each evening.

Westerns were popular at the movies as well as on television. Gene Autry was a singing cowboy and Alan Ladd was a brooding cowboy but the best of the lot was John Wayne. I loved every one of his movies and luckily so did my mom. Most people choose True Grit as his best role but I was a huge fan of Stagecoach and The Searchers. Somehow I imagined that every place west of San Antonio was filled with horse riding, gun toting heroes as amiable and charismatic as John Wayne.

Perhaps television and film producers alike created a few too many westerns back then much like the reality programming of today and the public grew weary of the sameness of the shows. Slowly but surely the old westerns were replaced with other fan favorites. Now cowboy shows are a rarity which is a shame because some of them really were quite good. Maybe we just outgrew them and began to realize that the image of the great hero of the old west was little more than a myth. We may have just become too cool for those guys with their ten gallon hats and boots.

I remembered how much I had enjoyed those stories when actor Hugh O’Brien recently died at the age of ninety one. I hadn’t really thought about him for years and I was actually surprised that he had grown so old. In my mind he was still a young lion in his early thirties with that steely eyed expression that told outlaws that he meant business. He seemed to be the perfect man to keep a town safe. Watching him in action always made me feel a bit more secure even in the real world. Hearing of his passing was like acknowledging the end of an era.

They say that what goes around comes around and I often wish that there might be a revival of the old westerns. I’ve heard that Longmire is a somewhat reasonable facsimile of those old shows so I may have to check it out soon. I still think that the viewing public might appreciate a well crafted western. Perhaps once we the audience have had our fill of present day offerings someone will think to create a really good story about the characters who roamed in the days when the western expanses of our country were wild and unpredictable.

We seem to be a bit down on cowboys and ranchers these days. I suppose that some of those of old did things that were of questionable morals but someone with a very creative mind should be able to create a character who is real and not just a cardboard caricature. It might be a compelling program that explores the complexities of that era with an imperfect but somewhat noble hero. I tend to think that Darrell of The Walking Dead is cut very much from the old western cloth. It shouldn’t be that difficult to build a story around such a man.

We’ve lost most of the actors who made those roles come to life and brought little kids like me so much delight. I for one think it’s time again to “Head ’em up, move ’em on.” We’re ready for another Rawhide.

Hope Chests

Published on September 8, 2016September 7, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

art_61133_0-1a1a1achesthopettlead When I graduated from high school fifty years ago I received a coupon entitling me to a miniature Lane cedar chest. The idea behind the promotion was to get young ladies and their parents into the store where they would see the full sized models and consider purchasing one as a special gift. Back then coming of age for many girls meant owning a “hope chest” that they would begin to fill with special items that they might later use in a future home once they were married. In a sense it was a way of creating a kind of dowry.

I only took the freebie chest which I turned into a container for trinkets like campaign buttons and old pins but I dreamed of one day having one of the beautiful full sized wooden boxes with its enchanting interior cedar aroma. My dear sweet husband eventually bought me one when I graduated from college and to this day I use it to store blankets and seasonal items. It sits in one of my extra bedrooms looking as shiny and new as the day we brought it home and I hope that it will one day become an heirloom for one of my children or grandchildren.

Most girls today would scratch their heads in confusion if someone were to ask them if they have a “hope chest.” The idea of storing away linens in anticipation of getting married soon after high school would sound quaint and outdated to them. Instead they dream of careers and putting first things first like getting an education and building a resume. Marriage is a distant goal that is way down on their checklist of things to accomplish. Besides, a registry at Bed Bath and Beyond will be sure to bring in all of the needed items when its time to think of settling down. At least in this country the “hope chest” has mostly gone the way of the buggy whip and arranged marriages. With a woman in contention for president it is doubtful that we will ever again see teenage girls lovingly accumulating linens for a future homey nest.

So much has changed over the decades. Raising girls is far different from the past. My granddaughter is as comfortable on a robotics team as she is getting a pedicure. When she speaks of the future the idea of husbands and babies is rarely mentioned. Instead she dreams of producing films or doing scientific research. She has enough confidence in herself that she would even consider running for political office. She has little idea that such goals were once thought to be beyond the grasp of women. She senses that the only barriers to fulfillment of her dreams might lie within her own heart but she is determined to stay strong and compete with her male counterparts on equal footing. She pushes herself to go well beyond expectations and proves time and again that she is made of steely stuff. Amazingly she is far from being alone. Women everywhere are accomplishing feats that might have been unimaginable back when I was her age.

There are now more women graduating from universities today than men. They are represented in virtually every field of endeavor. Women from the USA dominated the summer Olympics. They head multi-billion dollar corporations and hold the highest political offices in countries across the world. They have evolved quickly into movers and shakers. They are housewives if they choose or stock analysts if they prefer. There seems to be little territory that they are unable or unwilling to conquer and yet there are still vast swaths of the world where they are thought to be the inferior half of the human race. It is an enigma that their domination continues in some corners even as they rise above the forces that have traditionally held them down in others.

I can only hope that the evolution of women will continue in the places where their plight seems the most hopeless. There have always been pioneers among us who dared to go where no women had gone before. They were unwilling to accept the norms that were so irrationally used to define them. Marie Curie engaged in scientific research in a time when female thoughts and opinions were rarely considered. Amelia Earhart strode into a traditionally man’s world and demonstrated the potential of the future. Abigail Adams dared to engage her husband in political dialogue on an equal footing. Such women and the many others whose names we may never know pushed past barriers to create paths that today’s young girls take for granted. Hopefully there are people like them working to overcome prejudices in places where their rights are sorely limited.

As women chart new courses and eschew the old ways of doing things new questions and problems arise. Any woman who works understands how difficult it is to take care of business and a family. Time, resources and energy are stretched thin in a balancing act that is far more difficult than it may appear. With a generous income a woman has the option of employing nannies, maids, landscapers and other helpers to ease the load of responsibilities but most jobs don’t provide enough money to afford such luxuries. It falls on the women and their partners to shoulder the tasks together and studies demonstrate that the ladies are still doing much of the heavy lifting at home, especially when it comes to the children. It is up to us as a society to begin to educate both our girls and our boys in the new ways of doing things.

I still believe that family is at the heart of society. Ultimately we need children to forge the future. In our enthusiasm for freeing women to develop all of their talents we also need to remember to honor their efforts to raise the next generation. As a society we cannot be guilty of underestimating the value of a happy and loving home. While the modern family may not look exactly like the one that grandma knew the basic needs and foundations are still the same. Today’s parents are quite busy juggling hundreds of objects in the air and we need to consider innovative ways to make their struggles less difficult while supporting their choices as well.

Traditions come and go. Our daughters are still romantic and dream of finding true love just as in fairytales but they no longer see themselves as extensions of their soulmate’s dreams. They have become equal partners who support one another in reaching personal goals. If they were to have something as old fashioned as a “hope chest” today it would be filled with roadmaps to grand possibilities and adventures.

Meh!

Published on September 6, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

02062013_govworkers_article Another Labor Day has come and gone and I find myself once again going, “Meh!” I’ve never liked Labor Day. Like Pavlov’s dog I instinctively react negatively to the mere mention of it. I’ve always thought that it is misplaced on the annual calendar, coming as it does at the end of the summer. Instead of invoking a sense of celebration like other national holidays it seems to be an ill advised attempt to simply throw in one more long weekend before the days grow short and the nights long. I’ve always thought that it might be more appreciated if it were scheduled for March or April when there is often a dearth of downtime for those who work. Since I’ve been ruled by the school calendar for the majority of my life Labor Day signals an end to fun in my mind, not a reason to be happy.

Back when I was a kid the Labor Day holiday was a trigger warning that school was about to start. It was our last big day of freedom before returning to the grind of rising early, stuffing our bare feet into tight shoes and bringing home mountains of homework each evening. It told us that the lazy days of summer were over and it was time to get serious again. I always felt as though I was attending a wake when I gathered with our extended family for a final day at the beach. There would be no time for such frivolities in the coming weeks. We would all be busy with our over filled schedules and it would be many weeks before we got to rest again. Not even the promise of Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas assuaged the angst that I always felt on Labor Day.

As an adult I chose teaching as a career and the academic year usually commenced for me during the first weeks of August. Labor Day should have been a welcome respite from the rush of beginning my work anew but somehow it only seemed to interrupt the flow of the routine that I was attempting to establish in my classroom. I always felt that I would have appreciated a day off a bit farther down the line rather than so soon after my students had arrived.

Labor Day also marked a moment when a change of attire was in order. Thankfully the world of fashion is a bit less dictatorial than it used to be but there was a time when the arrival of Labor Day meant that white slacks and dresses had to be stored away with other summer gear. Sandals and shorts were frowned upon unless they were worn only inside the home. For those of us living in the hot humid conditions of the south the traditional fall fashions that debuted after the working man’s holiday were far too dark and heavy. Luckily we managed to come to our senses and now nobody seems to notice if we are still sporting our flip flops and capris deep into December. Today even school bands often have two sets of uniforms that include warm weather styles along with the more traditional looks.

For so long Jerry Lewis was to Labor Day as Santa Claus was to Christmas. His marathon for Muscular Dystrophy was bigger than the blitz of football games that now dominate the weekend. I never failed to get emotionally involved with the men, women and children struck down by that terrible disease and I opened my pocket to the kids who came to my door seeking donations as well as the firefighters who held out their boots at traffic lights. I was mesmerized by the tote board that registered ever higher donations as the hours wore on and Jerry Lewis appeared as though he was about to collapse from fatigue. The whole country was focused on securing a cure for Jerry’s Kids and we all hoped and prayed that it would be found in our lifetime. Eventually Jerry got old, the miracles that we expected didn’t happen and we all seemed to lose interest in spending hours watching celebrities doing little more than talk. Slowly but surely the annual program faded into nothing more than a memory, replaced by wall to wall football games and marathons of popular television series.

We definitely need to honor our working men and women but somehow the intent of the Labor Day holiday seems to have become lost in translation. It is just another way to have a long weekend filled with exciting sales on everything from washing machines to cars. There is something a bit empty about it these days. There are no special events that are designed to showcase the contributions of the men and women who leave their homes each morning to fuel the engine of our economy. We rarely stop to consider the many facets of work that keep most of us enjoying fairly comfortable lives. In our country we have rarely had to face a situation in which things fall completely apart because the jobs or the people who do them are gone. We tend not to take much note of places in the world where a sense of security has been shattered because few are able to find employment.

We often grumble when we are involved in the daily grind of work but deep in our hearts we understand that the alternative of being without a means of supporting ourselves and our families is frightening. Sadly many of the traditional sources of work are going the way of the dinosaurs. As I have traveled around the country I have noticed so many manufacturing plants that are shuttered and empty. In my own hometown there are people who worked for the oil industry who have been unemployed for well over a year. They seek jobs but are rebuffed at every turn. Coal miners and steel workers are becoming forgotten souls in the modern economy. Even college graduates are finding it difficult to move into professions in which they once might have been heavily recruited. They find themselves settling for work unrelated to their majors that pay barely enough to get by much less reduce the debt of their student loans. These are frightening and confusing times for many who want to be part of the workforce but can’t seem to find a niche.

I worked quite hard for a very long time and earned every hour of my retirement but I understand that my own security in the coming years depends heavily on the success of the young. If they can’t find decent work the whole system begins to collapse and we all go down with them. As independent as each of us may sometimes feel the truth is that we are all in this world together. What happens to one affects another.

The numbers of elk in Yellowstone National Park have been greatly reduced all because someone introduced lake trout into the spawning ground of a smaller type of fish. The more aggressive lake trout eat their mild mannered neighbors at a rate so alarming that the little ones have almost become extinct inside the lake. The bears who used to eat the tiny fish after hibernating each year have had to satisfy their dietary needs with baby elk now that their usual source of protein is no longer as available. Thus the herds of elk are greatly diminished which has a domino effect on other aspects of nature. Much like the symbiosis in nature, there is also a chain of events that occur whenever people lose their livelihood.

I’d love to see us take the Labor Day holiday more seriously. We all need to know more about the history of work in our country and the world. We need to be truthfully informed about employment trends. Our children require good information to be able to make decisions about their futures. If we did Labor Day right it might become an educational holiday that allows us to gain more understanding of how things really are in different parts of our country and the world. I suspect that ignorance of reality is rather dangerous in the modern era and it is far too rampant. Lest we one day awake to find ourselves scrambling for food in empty grocery stores like the people of Venezuela it’s time that we learned more about our own workforce so that we might continue to provide jobs for everyone who needs one. We all depend on filling our economy with worker bees each day. Maybe it’s time that we take a second look at Labor Day. It just may be the most important commemoration that we have.

Welcome Back

Published on August 29, 2016August 28, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

cw_set-art-multi-cupcakes_s4x3 We encounter so many people as we travel through life. Some are simply strangers that we pass as we carry out our daily routines. Others provide services for us. We get to know them and even like them but our only interaction is when they assist us. We work with many individuals. We often find kindred spirits who become lifelong friends. Others are destined to walk with us for a time and then quietly drift away. We see the faces, remember the stories, understand that each of them has touched us in some way.

I have taught thousands of students. Most of them are now lost to me. They moved on with their lives and I hope and pray that they have found happiness. I remember them and the impact that they had on my own life. It probably never occurs to them that I may be thinking about them, but I do. I worry about the ones who struggled and dream that somehow they ultimately found a way to change direction and find the pathways that they needed. I imagine what the outstanding ones may have achieved. Mostly I want to think that they are all doing okay.

Once in a while we experience the great joy of being reunited with people who have been absent for a very long time. It is an exhilarating experience to find them once again. Of late I have learned about the fates of many people from my childhood, my teenage years. I now know that they have done their best to be good people. They have families and accomplishments of which they are quite proud. They did well during the years when we had drifted apart. It is comforting to find them again and realize that our friendships are so easily revived.

I have also found my former students from time to time. They have recognized me in stores, at the movies, while I was dining out. They are adults who are hardly recognizable save for the smiles that return their faces to the innocence of their youth. I remember their names, where they sat in my class, the talents that they were displaying way back when. It thrills me to learn about them. There is no greater gift.

Facebook may have its flaws but it has served as a conduit for finding those who have been lost. On any given day I may learn about yet another person who was important to me but who somehow became a stranger. Just a few days ago it was through that social network that I learned about one of my students, a brilliantly talented young woman who had caught my attention when she was in my class.

She had found my profile on Facebook and had tried to reach out to me with a private message over three years ago. She opened her heart to me and must have felt hurt when I never replied. Somehow the algorithm that determines what I see on my wall prevented me from receiving her message. It simply languished in a file somewhere in cyber space while I was unaware that it even existed. In a twist of fate, last week it somehow showed up along with other notes that had not previously come to my attention. I can’t explain why the words of my student suddenly appeared from so many years before but I am glad that they did. In the hopes that she was still somewhere out there I replied. Only minutes later she and I were conversing. It was so wonderfully serendipitous and somehow seemed to be destined.

There are people who touch our hearts so dramatically that we never forget them. This student is one such person. She was in a period of rebellion when I met her, often misunderstood by those who demanded a more regimented loyalty from the younger generation. I saw her as the magnificent soul that she was. Her talents were extraordinary. She possessed a creative imagination that marked her giftedness in virtually everything that she touched. She was so wonderfully unordinary. Mostly though I realized that somehow those demanding conformance had somehow confused her so that she didn’t fully understand her own brilliance. I tried to encourage her but never knew if I had been able to touch her beautiful heart.

I found out that she had dropped out for a time. I suspect that she had to determine who she really wanted to be. She moved to Arkansas where she experienced nature and the seasons. She began her own business as a baker and she one day began to consider even bigger ideas. She told me that I had influenced her thinking and that she wasn’t sure if she should consider being a teacher. Mostly she believes that her true talent lies in being a counselor and to that end she has enrolled in classes at a university near her home. She seems to have found an inner peace with her own soul.

I believe that she has the intellect and the strength to be anything that she wishes. She will be an asset in whichever field she chooses to pursue. She is a gentle soul filled with kindness and understanding. She has accepted herself and found the maturity and determination to march to her own drumbeat which is in actuality much like a symphony. I’m glad that I may now once again encourage her to be the person that I always believed she might be.

Somehow each of us manages to sometimes be in the right place at the right time. I suspect from her comments that this young woman thinks that I may have saved her when she was still young but the reality is that she saved me. At the time that I was teaching her my mother was in one of the most horrific stages of her mental illness. Were it not for the beautiful distraction of teaching I too may have gone insane. Working with students and especially those like this very special one kept me optimistic. They also provided me with a purpose beyond caring for my mom. It was good to get away from the horror over which I seemed to have so little control and to believe that just maybe I might be able to accomplish something worthwhile. Knowing that I did touch someone’s heart is a great gift because there were times when I was juggling so many balls in the air that I felt dizzy. I wondered if I was doing anything right.

What I would want this wonderful student to know is that she burrowed into my soul. I kept an image of her there and took it out from time to time with great pleasure. Now perhaps the two of us may keep in touch and support one another anew. I’ll never understand exactly how or why that simple message from her so suddenly flashed on my screen but I do know that it meant the world to me. Welcome back, Kristen. I’ve missed you.