Category: Nostalgia

Not So Strange

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

66.0.0Watching television in the summertime can be a dreary affair. The hundreds of available channels tend to pack their schedules with reruns or replacement programs of dubious value. Most of us are too busy enjoying travels and the long hours of daylight to really care about the dearth of decent options but when rain is dampening plans we sometimes reach for our remotes hoping to find something interesting and worthy to view. Sadly our options aren’t always promising.

The summer Olympics in Rio have been fun but somehow NBC manages to go into overkill with certain events and completely ignore others that might be interesting. I have found myself tuning out every time that they showcased yet another beach volleyball game. Don’t get me wrong. Those competitions are fast paced and even have the potential to be exciting but when they seem to be part of the programming every single day they soon get old. On the other hand we never get to see much related to soccer or rugby or basketball. I thoroughly appreciate the finals in swimming and track but don’t really need to see every event leading up to those matches. I’d much prefer a montage of the many different sports and not just those that NBC has selected for my viewing pleasure. I suspect that I am not alone in my thinking because ratings for the Olympics are down.

Luckily there is a bright spot in the vacuous desert of summer programming. Stranger Things is yet another Netflix original limited series that demonstrates how a great story, taut writing, a perfect cast and stunning production can elevate a simple idea into a winner. Stranger Things is so nineteen eighties and that is a very good thing. The tale weaves a tapestry of mystery with characters right out of the movies that we so loved in that era. Subtle but powerful touches include a soundtrack of eighties favorites that illicit memories of MTV with starring roles for once young actors and actresses who have settled into middle age. The formulaic themes so common in the golden age of the eighties are all there but with twists and turns that keep us on the edges of our seats. Stranger Things is a romp through the past that seems to have elements of Goonies, E.T., Sixteen Candles and Alien. In other words, it is great fun, especially for those of us who so enjoyed that glorious time.

When I think of the eighties I get a huge smile on my face. It was a decade when everything in my world was going well. I loved my job and had few worries. I lived in a great neighborhood and enjoyed adventures with so many wonderful friends. My two girls kept me busy but I loved every moment with them. I was still in my thirties, a time when I was confident, energetic and still rather nice looking. We traveled all across the United States as a family and created memories that are vividly exciting even to this day. The world itself seemed safer and less complex. We lived contentedly at the end of a cul-de-sac thinking that life would always be as perfect as it appeared to be back then. We were so busy enjoying our little slice of heaven that we hardly noticed the changes that were brewing just as they inevitably do.

We would all grow older. Family members and dear friends would die. Our children became adults who left our little nest to begin their own sagas. The world seemed to evolve into a more dangerous place. Our nostalgia for the good old days increased and yet if truth be told these are good times as well.

The reality of life is that it is in constant motion. As the Bible so beautifully tells us there is a season for everything. How we react to each stage of our existence will color the way that we view our past, present and future. With the right attitude we are able to accept and enjoy our status even with the many changes that alter the way we live. True joy comes in embracing the moment and finding the blessings that most surely are right in front of us.

My mother was masterful at enjoying the simplest of things. She had very little money but she never complained. She received as much joy from a McDonald’s sausage biscuit as she might have had from breakfast at Brennan’s. The simple act of waking up each morning was a grand miracle in her mind. Each day was precious to her and she packed her hours with generosity and love. Whether she looked backward or forward at her life she was filled with optimism. She loved the eighties like me but she appreciated all of the other decades as well and they spanned from the twenties of the twentieth century to the teens of the twenty first. She had a way of finding the silver lining even on the darkest of days and constantly assured us that every problem has a way of working itself out if we are willing to be patient.

Watching Stranger Things reminded me of one of my favorite times but it also made me think of just how wonderfully far I have come. I now have seven grandchildren who weren’t even part of my imagination back then. I have met so many remarkable people in the days since dresses had more padding than a football uniform. The inventiveness of humankind in the last thirty years has made virtually every aspect of my existence far easier than it has ever been. I can tutor my granddaughter or visit with my grandson without any of us leaving our homes thanks to technology. I am daily reminded of how lucky I am and of the goodness of most of the world. It is with a sense of anticipation that I think of what may lie ahead. I suspect that wondrous things are on the horizon and that’s a good thing.

The best thing about life is how creative we humans are again and again. We adapt and thrive and carry on because it is in our natures to build rather than destroy. We laugh and enjoy the adventure of a good challenge. The bonds that tie us all together weather the test of time and there is nothing strange about that.   

The Heart of Civilization

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

challenges_for_first_year_teachers-e1440768693502When I was a child I kept my toys in cardboard boxes from the grocery store. I had one that held my dolls along with “furniture” made from an assortment of smaller containers. Another stored a hodgepodge of items like a jump rope and roller skates. Then there was my school box, a collection of books, paper and pencils that I used to pretend that I was a teacher. I kept it at the ready for any occasion in which I was able to entice my friends or relatives to participate in my favorite make believe game of being an educator. I suppose that I was always destined for working inside a classroom. Being a teacher was more than just a job. It was a vocation, something that I dreamed of doing for as long as I am able to remember.

When I was still a student my teachers were highly respected. The women’s liberation movement was in its infancy and few females worked outside of their homes. When they did, they chose traditional professions. Chief among them was teaching. The best and the brightest from the feminine half of the population were often drawn to education where they shared their knowledge and skills. I studied under the tutelage of women who might have run companies in today’s world. They were brilliant and inspiring. I knew early in life that I wanted to accomplish something significant when I worked and I believed that teaching the next generation was mankind’s most noble and important occupation. I did not choose to be a teacher so that I might pay my college bills or because I was not intelligent enough to master other fields of study. I wanted to be a teacher because I desired to do meaningful work. I had been inspired by brilliant women who had made learning exciting and I thought it would be quite wonderful to follow in their footsteps.

Over the course of my career I witnessed the decline of respect for teachers. As women overcame barriers to succeed in traditionally male occupations education became for many a less and less desirable career path. The old joke that “those who can’t, teach” became a standby for questioning the credibility of those who entered schools of education. We began to revere the women who studied business, engineering, medicine and ridicule those who “settled” for learning how to teach. It became more and more popular for schools to hire cadres of candidates from the ranks of Teach for America where individuals came from ivy league universities with impressive resumes. They donated their exceptional talents to some of our worst schools sometimes even staying beyond the two years required to eliminate much of their college debt. They became the public heroes of education while those who had purposely chosen to major in education were often viewed as inferior.

There came a time when even members of my extended family would consider what might have been had I chosen a more exciting and profitable career. They would note that I would have been an outstanding doctor or an incredible lawyer as though in being a teacher I had somehow missed the opportunity to fully express my talents and my destiny. Strangers who inquired about my life upon first meeting me would suddenly and noticeably lose interest when I revealed that I was a teacher. Often they would launch into an indictment of what they saw as a broken system for educating our youth and wonder that I would actually choose to be part of something so hopelessly inferior.

I had to learn to ignore the naysayers and to bear the wounds from the slings and arrows that are invariably aimed at educators. Still, I so loved what I did as a teacher that I could think of nothing more wonderful than meeting a new group of students each August and enhancing their knowledge of mathematics during the course of the following ten months. I understood what really happened inside classrooms. I retained the magic and the joy even in the most challenging situations. I watched the transformation of my pupils and felt the power of learning motivate them to follow their own dreams. There was no amount of money or prestige that would have given me as much satisfaction as I felt watching my charges grow and become more confident because of my efforts.

I feel a sense of pride in watching my former students become accomplished adults. They are part of a new generation that will carry out the work that drives the world forward. I know in my heart that my time with them played a part in their evolution. Seeing them succeed is the grandest form of payback for my efforts.

Whenever I learn that one of my “kids” has chosen to become a teacher or play a supporting role in education I am especially elated. Over the years I have seen many of my most outstanding students opt to become exceptional educators. I celebrate not just for them but for the world because I know just how truly amazing they are. It is as though I have been able to pass the torch of learning that has always burned so brightly in my heart. I know firsthand the joys and the accomplishments that lie ahead for them. I realize how difficult their pathways will be and how the rewards that they receive will most often be intangible. If they truly love their jobs the way I always have they will not require approval to realize the magnitude of the impact that they will have on all of society.

This year I know of several young people who will stand at the front of classrooms for the very first time. Instead of gazing up at me for guidance they will have youngsters looking to them for knowledge. It has become their time to lead. I have little doubt that each of them will be a resounding success. I know them to be of exceptional mind and spirit and they will ultimately become rock stars in their professions.

If I were to give them one bit of advice it would be to hold their heads high no matter what kind of chatter they may hear. Teachers are the foundation of all that mankind accomplishes. We show our children how to read and to think. We help them to reach out to the universe. Without teachers there would be no doctors or lawyers or engineers. Giants stand on our shoulders and we are happy to help them to reach the heights. The naysayers may criticize us and even attempt to demean us but we know better. Our profession forms the bedrock upon which all of society depends. Education is the heart of civilization. “Those who can” are the chosen ones who teach. 

99.9%

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

test_1024x1024AT&T has been running a commercial that features a family that has suddenly lost Internet coverage. They panic, pray, spy on more fortunate neighbors whose wifi is still operating. The seconds and minutes tick by with no relief. Their lives are turned upside down. The ad suggests that if only they had invested in service from AT&T there is a 99.9% probability that this horrific dilemma would never have occurred. The moral of the sad little tale is that we must all be prepared lest we too suffer the indignities of losing our electronic contact with the world.

I always laugh a bit when I see that ad because of late I have been losing my AT&T Internet at least once almost everyday. The suspension of service never lasts more than a minute so I mostly remain calm until the signal returns. Still a fear lurks in the dark recesses of my soul that one day the interruption will last for hours or even an entire day. What would I do now that I am an electronic junkie? Where would I get my fix? Would I become as distressed as the hapless individuals in the advertisement that so amuses me?

Without warning last week I had to learn what measure of a woman I am. I was dog sitting at my daughter’s home when the unthinkable happened. The AT&T Internet went dead. I waited for a few minutes and soon began receiving messages about broadband errors, I was concerned but not totally distressed. I rebooted the system and sent a message to my daughter who was camping in Yellowstone National Park. I busied myself with other pursuits while expecting to be back in business before long. When evening fell and there was still no sign of a repair I began to actually worry but felt determined to ride out the temporary annoyance by reading and watching the local t.v. using an antenna. After all, I grew up in an era of black and white television, a single landline telephone shared by the entire family, libraries with real books, and newspapers delivered to my front yard with only slightly stale news. I understood what it was like to live the simple life without 24/7 contact with the outside world.

I retired to my dreams that night feeling rather superior. I had endured almost an entire day unplugged and it felt good to know that I had not become so spoiled and weak that I would freak out over loss of the Internet. I was not like that pathetic family in the ad.

I awoke the following morning confident that some noble repairman had taken care of the problem during my slumbers. When I realized that I was still offline a momentary panic seized me. I wondered how I would be able to post my blog. I have a hot spot on my phone but I had already received a message indicating that I had used all of my data for the period and I didn’t want to incur anymore additional payments than necessary. After a few minutes my rational side had kicked in quite nicely and I had decided that a nice trip to the local Starbucks would solve my problem.

As I drove through the neighborhood I noticed an AT&T truck parked next to a big box. A man was working away and I heaved a sigh of relief. Surely this meant that the problem would be solved. I relaxed while sipping my tea in the lovely atmosphere of Starbucks. I uploaded my blog and internally patted myself on the back for being so smart. I imagined the universe of online fun that awaited me when I returned to enjoy the once again functioning Internet system but it was not to be.

My hopes and dreams were shattered as soon as I attempted to connect my laptop and my phone to wifi upon my return to the house. The service was still as dead as a doornail. There would be no Netflix in my immediate future. I was stranded on an electronic desert and it felt abnormal. My resolve began to crumble as I finally understood that I was caught in the .1% dead zone of AT&T service. I was the statistic. Somebody had to forfeit their Internet to mathematically support their boast and I realized that I was the lucky loser.

Somehow I found ways to revert back to my old methods for doing things. I used the necessity of visiting different venues to upload my blog as a kind daily entertainment. I enjoyed the quiet of the house and found that I was far more relaxed than normal without the constant news updates that I usually receive. When there was nothing worth watching on the television I explored the area, read, and took walks. I soon established a routine devoid of devotion to social media and the noise of the constant chatter that so dominates the world. It wasn’t a disaster after all. It was actually quite nice. I reached a point when I no longer even checked to see if the service had resumed for fear that I might find it fully repaired. I kept to the slower pace that a lack of media allowed me to enjoy.

I’m back home now. My own Internet is running smoothly. I won’t have to leave to upload my blog and I have hundreds of emails to peruse that I have ignored for over a week. Somehow I am more afraid of reentering the cyber world than being without all of those distractions. I found that my days were far more productive when I wasn’t checking for updates every few minutes. I noticed the loveliness of silence. I played with the dogs and gave them my full attention. I read three books in the space of five days. I actually felt more unencumbered. I had escaped from the bondage of comments and tweets. I was no longer hypnotized by worthless offerings from the television. It was an exhilarating experience.

I’ll be the first to admit that these are the good old days with regard to the tools available to us for communication, research, writing, and entertainment. The Internet has literally revolutionized the way we think and act. I would never want to return to the limits that once defined our possibilities and yet I worry that we have not yet properly adapted to our brave new world. Instead of using the Internet for our benefit I fear that we sometimes allow it to use us. We have ironically fallen into a kind of hypnotic trance orchestrated by soundbites, popular culture, mindless and all too often incorrect information. Our newspapers have become purveyors of online slide shows and our journalists seem more concerned with “gottcha” moments than honest reporting of the news. The online world is falling all over itself playing a competitive game of outrageousness. The cyber universe has us all ginned up and the consequences have at times been disastrous.

I wonder if terrorism and hate would be as rampant without online sources keeping anger alive and well. Would our children be playing healthy outdoor games and reading more without the Internet and its constant stream of questionable entertainment? Do we really need to know things instantly? Do we even care what commentators think? Are we using the power of the Internet as effectively as we should?

The world is changing so rapidly that we rarely have enough time to adapt to the most recent ways of doing things before we are faced with even newer innovations. The pace of our inventiveness is moving faster than our reaction time. We really do need to step back from the insanity now and again. It gives us a fresh perspective as to what we really most need. It’s nice to know that our electronic world is humming 99.9% of the time but we each have the power to pull the plug whenever we wish. Sometimes it’s a good thing to tune out and tune in to what we really need.

You Just Might Get What You Need

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

davis-mountains-night-skyFort Davis, Texas is a tiny town nestled in the shadow of the Guadelupe Mountains in the far western reaches of the state. It is a place with so little human footprint that it is home to the MacDonald Observatory and the annual gathering of the Texas Star Party. Here the stars at night truly are big and bright. Without the lights of more populous areas it is possible to see the nighttime sky the way it was once viewed by our ancestors. It is a place where it becomes easy to sense our place in the universe and in turn to shed the baggage of stressful times. In Fort Davis, particularly when the day is done, the stars, the planets and the creatures of the night remind us that we are part of a vast expanse of history that has come before us and is still yet to happen. It is a humbling and healing experience to be there.

Fort Davis came to be in the middle of the nineteenth century when the California gold rush led to an unprecedented western movement. The journey was long and treacherous, moving through deserts and land belonging to Native Americans who were becoming increasingly more concerned about settlers claiming property as their own. The fort was not just a way station for travelers but also a means of protection for safe passage. It was home to officers and their families as well as the famous Buffalo Soldiers, Black recruits so named by the Comanches who were fascinated by the dark skinned men. It was a rough and tumble society on the outer edges of civilization where everyone had to work together to keep things from falling apart.

The fort and its purpose lasted only a brief time. When the Civil War broke out it was used as a western outpost for the Union Army until the Confederates defeated the troops there and used it for their own purposes. After the war it once again became useful but not for long. It was abandoned late in the nineteenth century and sat that way for decades. Luckily there weren’t many people in that part of the world and so the buildings were never completely destroyed. They simply sat waiting for someone to notice their historical significance and to restore them to their former glory.

Today they are a living record of an era when many citizens of our country were seeking futures for themselves and their children. It takes little imagination to understand the difficulties of their journeys. The post is four hundred miles from San Antonio which now as then was the only major city in any direction. At a rate of five miles per hour, the wagons that carried the families were excruciatingly slow. Travel took more than ten times longer than it does today and that was if all other conditions along the route were perfect. I thought of how long it had taken us to pull our trailer from San Antonio to Los Angeles on our vacation and began to understand the sacrifices that the travelers had to make. I thought of the heat and the uncertainty of the road ahead and marveled that anyone might have felt adventurous or desperate enough to consider such a daunting expedition.

There is a hospital in the fort that holds records from the doctors who worked there. The stories tell of horrors such as the family that lost seven children in two weeks to diphtheria. The primitive nature of the treatments are as frightening as the injuries and diseases that found their way so far from the rest of humanity and yet the daily lives of the people who came here were often as routine as anywhere. They wrote to friends and family back home and celebrated the coming and going of the seasons. They drilled on the parade ground and periodically defended themselves against cattle rustlers and thieves. They watched the comings and goings of the pioneer families and no doubt observed the same stars at night that continue to brighten the skies. When they were gone they seemed to have been forgotten for a time but today thanks to the National Park Service they are remembered by people like me who walk in the shadows of their history with a kind of awe.

Fort Davis is now mostly a destination for tourists and astronomers. Those seeking refuge from the hurly burly of our modern times like to sit on the porches of the inns on the main street of town and listen to the silence. An old time drug store offers a daily menu of breakfast, lunch and dinner along with a soda fountain featuring banana splits and root beer floats. Fort Davis State Park has tent sites and full hookups for campers. The Prude Ranch which hosts the Texas Star Party offers horse back riding and a vicarious ranching experience. The MacDonald Observatory is a scientific wonder that hosts tours and star gazing opportunities for the public even while it studies the heavens and learns more and more about our universe.

There are things to do in and near Fort Davis for those who like to keep busy but it is also the consummate location for simply relaxing. We spent an entire evening just gazing at the stars which were so plentiful that it was breathtaking. Some people actually sleep during the day and stay awake all night long to watch the changing spectacle in the sky as the earth spins on its axis.

Being in Fort Davis is a priceless experience that puts life so clearly into focus. Somehow out where mankind has such a small footprint it is easier to understand that our days and our nights will continue in much the same way that they have for eternity and none of our worries will change that. It reminds us of the beauty of nature and the cosmos and urges us to realize that we owe it to ourselves and to the future to honor the miraculous magic of our world. It tells us to learn from both the courage and mistakes of our past. It challenges us to become protectors of humans and nature lest we lose what is most important.

We know more about how things work than at any other time in history but I suspect that just as our ancestors, we still have much to learn. We need not berate ourselves for the ignorance of those who came before us but instead should celebrate the knowledge that has allowed us to become better. Somehow both our history and our future converge in Fort Davis in a way that makes our path as the human race seem so much clearer. It is difficult to visit this place without changing just a bit. It is both spiritual and scientific, reaching into the head and the heart. You won’t find raucous and artificial excitement here but you just might find what you need.

The City of Angels and Demons

Published on by Sharron Burnett1 Comment

Los_Angeles_-_Echangeur_autoroute_110_105I have just completed a five thousand mile road trip with my husband and two of my grandchildren. It was a glorious adventure that will be forever imprinted on my memory. Together we saw and did wondrous things. This morning I am experiencing the letdown that so often comes with a return to normalcy. It has been three weeks since I was last inside the realm of reality. I managed to avoid the depressing news cycles and the speechifying propaganda of the Republican convention. I suspect that my journey would have exceeded perfection if it had been timed to ignore the Democrat convention as well. If there is one thing that I know for certain it is that a single speech does not define a political animal so I really don’t need to watch the cleverly rehearsed commentaries to decide how to vote in November.

When last I submitted a blog I was on my way to Los Angeles. We were driving through the Mojave Desert from Needles, California, a place so hot and devoid of personality that I had to wonder why anyone ever chose to live there. I noted that it was the home of Spike, one of Snoopy’s brothers, and had to chuckle that it must be a dog’s life in that dry and forlorn place.

By the afternoon we had reached our destination in the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area after wandering through a seemingly endless stretch of bone dry land that was nonetheless hauntingly beautiful. Many miles out of the city we caught up with the famous LA traffic that slowed our progress to a disturbing crawl. It felt as though we had somehow found our way into a beehive of uninterrupted activity.

Los Angeles is a behemoth of a city. It stretches in every direction with seven lane highways creating pathways from one part of town to another. Even with such gigantic road systems progress along the roads is slow and deliberate. There is no room for the timid. The landscape is a patchwork of ethnic and economic diversity from the plenty of Wilshire Boulevard to the want of East LA.

We stayed in a campground just past Magic Mountain that harkened to the California of the nineteen fifties. My grandchildren voted it the best of its kind with its two kidney shaped swimming pools and credit card operated laundromat. It lay in the shadow of Santa Clarita where we shopped for provisions and cooled our heels on a Saturday afternoon watching a movie. I remarked at the time that the entire area appeared to be a tender box just waiting for someone to carelessly toss a cigarette or match. I mentally planned an escape route if the place were to suddenly become an inferno. Luckily we did not experience any problems but only one week after our departure an enormous wildfire broke out nearby and it continues to rage to this very day. It seems that my instincts were right on target.

We did the usual touristy things in Los Angeles. We visited Hollywood and even joined a snake-like parade of cars in the drive to see the famous sign that sits on a hill overlooking the city. We saw the Walk of Fame and drove through Beverly Hills. We went to Rodeo Drive and up and down Sunset Boulevard. I suspect that some of the luster chipped away for my grandchildren who found the endless traffic and the multitude of homeless to be quite disturbing.

They were much happier at Universal City where they immersed themselves in the fantasies of moviedom. Under their direction we arose early and arrived at the theme park at 7:30 in the morning. We were able to enjoy the Harry Potter section without crowds and partake of the rides a number of times without much wait. The attraction was indeed as magical as the children had hoped and served to reinstate their interest in this incredible city.

We stayed until the park closed at ten that night. We felt an ecstatic kind of exhaustion that comes after an incomparable day. We had braved roller coaster rides and an hour standing in line to tour the studios. We jumped in fright at a velociraptor and were taken by surprise by a giant Egyptian. We walked through the Walking Dead exhibit with delight and I had to laugh that my grandchildren seemed to be the only youngsters daring enough to do so. All in all the park was well worth the long journey that brought us to this place.

We did not have as much time in Los Angeles as we had hoped. We found that getting from one area to another was far more time consuming than we had imagined it would be. I had hoped to visit the Huntington  Library on our final day but my crew was far too tired to make the trip. Instead we enjoyed the southern California sun at the swimming pool and took in a movie which seemed appropriate given our locale. Our journey to our next destination, San Diego, would take us across the entire north south expanse of the city and with wall to wall traffic that hardly moved we managed to see much more of this famous town.

Los Angeles is definitely a study in contrasts. North Hollywood where I lived for a short time when I was eight appears to have seen better days. Back then it was a middle class enclave with stucco structures much like the one where my family resided. We had a big yard with trees that shaded us from the sun. Our living room boasted a fireplace which was quite exotic to me. I recall riding a bus to school through hilly streets that held lovely structures that appeared to be the domains of the wealthy. Sixty years later the area has lost the luster that I remember from my childhood. It has a run down appearance as though it has been abandoned for greener pastures.

The LA freeways are in constant motion even at midnight. It seems as though the city never sleeps. In the more wealthy areas the streets are manicured and clean. In those where the economically disadvantaged reside there are mountains of trash littering the roads and bright and creative graffiti voicing the frustrations of those who experience want in a land of abundance. It is a vibrant place where one must keep moving just to stay in place. In many ways the city wore us out.

Even though my own home of Houston, Texas is the fourth largest area in the country it is a far cry from Los Angeles in terms of population and the problems that come with ministering to such an enormous number of residents. I found LA to be more than I want to handle at my age. I enjoyed the excitement for awhile but longed for a slower pace by the time that we departed.

Our three days in Los Angeles were wonderful nonetheless and I hope to one day return again. I have to admit that I found LA to be far less beautiful that the northern areas of the state. In spite of the luxurious estates of the rich and famous, Los Angeles still has a kind of gritty feel that evokes images more of the old west than opulent culture. It is a working man’s town where dreams seem likely to come true but often lead to bitter disappointment. It is a place filled with millions of stories that live themselves out while tourists imagine fantasies about what life must be like in this vast expanse. I have to commend anyone willing to try their luck in this city. It’s streets are both paved with gold and filled with dangerous detours but all in all it is a truly amazing place.