Category: Seasons

The Best Gift Ever

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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There are moments in life that are forever etched in memory, so vivid that even thirty years later they evoke powerful emotions. I have many such recollections. Among them is an evening on Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park. It was late spring, a time when days grow warm and new life is sprouting here in my Houston home. My husband was attending a conference in Denver and he invited me to come along. The hotel room after all was already secured. I only needed to purchase a plane ticket, find someone to watch our daughters in our absence and take a couple of days off from work. It seemed an audaciously frivolous thing to do which made me reluctant. I not only had children who relied on me at home but also at the school where I worked. Additionally I was taking a class and it was nearing the end of the semester. Papers were due; tests were coming. Nonetheless some force inside my soul told me that the brief retreat might be fun.

While Mike was attending the seminars and functions associated with his work I stayed in my hotel room reading from my textbooks, writing essays and studying for an exam that was coming within days. The quiet atmosphere complete with room service was perfect for the work that I had to do. I seemed to accomplish five times as much as I would have at home but it still felt silly to have flown hundreds of miles just to hole up inside four walls. I had to wonder what I had been thinking when I agreed to Mike’s plan.

When Mike’s business day ended much earlier than he had anticipated he appeared in our room with a mischievous grin. He announced that we were going to take a drive to Estes Park to see the mountains up close. I quickly gathered my purse and put on my shoes and we were soon heading toward an adventure that would make my trip worthwhile. The mountains loomed ever larger in our view as we drove out of Denver and through Boulder. Soon we were on a highway cut through a national forest which was dotted with mountain streams and incredible vistas at each curve in the road. Before long we were navigating the streets of Estes Park with its quaint shops and restaurants on our quest to ride along Trail Ridge Road inside Rocky Mountain National Park. 

The ranger who greeted us at the entrance of the park told us that we were fortunate because the road had only recently opened but he urged us to be careful because it was growing dark and the weather report indicated that it would be foggy on our trail. We were not dissuaded by his warnings. The mountains beckoned us with a primal urge and we preceded with a growing excitement.

The path was easy at first. We drove along the side of a mountain sheltered by groves of trees that obscured the view. It grew unseasonably cold and we had come dressed for Houston, not the wintry temperatures that surrounded us, so we turned on the heater in our rented car. Here and there were gaps in the pines that showed us that we were indeed going higher and higher. The valley below receded and the air grew thinner. Before long we were driving above the tree line observing ancient glaciers on the tundra. Just as the ranger had predicted a wall of fog and clouds darkened our view. There were no signs of life, just a white blanket of snow and ice on the majestic peaks.

We spoke very little. Somehow chatter seemed to defame the glorious sight that lay all around us. We were alone in God’s country, viewing His majestic architecture, the cathedrals born from His hand. When we reached a point that overlooked the massive peaks through which we were traveling Mike parked the car and we exited so that we might stand in silence observing the breathtaking scene before us. The wind was howling, the temperature was freezing and neither of us had thought to bring coats but we cared little at that moment. Somehow we felt immune to the punishing weather. We were sharing a timeless vision. It felt as though we were the only human beings on the planet, an Adam and Eve discovering the world for the very first time. I wondered at that moment how many intrepid individuals had trekked into the mountains before there were roads or trails only to reach such a place and gaze into infinity just as we were doing. Did they feel close to God and to the core of their souls as I did?

Our faces had grown red from the harshness of the wind. Our fingers were becoming numb from the cold. Shivering we saw our own grins reflected in each other’s expressions. We needed no words to share what we were experiencing. We hesitated to leave but our more rational natures told us that it would soon be dark and a light snow was beginning to fall. We had seen something so spiritual that it would forever bind us with a love for Rocky Mountain National Park and each other. 

We would return to that spot many more times over the years. We would never tire of seeing the wonders of the mountains in different seasons. We would bring our daughters and they would become as spellbound as we were. We would travel to the park with my brothers and their families. We celebrated our fortieth anniversary in those very same mountains along with good friends. We came back with our grandchildren. The lure of Rocky Mountain National Park never seems to grow old and we plan to return once again in a few weeks.

A hundred years ago the idea of preserving our national wonders in a system of parks and monuments that might be shared by all Americans came to be. Today our National Park System cares for our nation’s treasures from north to south, the Atlantic to the Pacific. Over the years Mike and I have marveled at Yosemite, Yellowstone, Glacier, Zion, Mesa Verde, the Grand Canyon, Carlsbad Caverns, the Smokey Mountains, the Missions in San Antonio, Shilo, The Washington and Lincoln Memorials and so many others that it would take pages to list and describe them. We now have a senior pass that allows us to enter any of them without even paying a fee. It would be impossible to justly describe the joy that visiting these places has brought to us again and again.

Our national parks represent the best of our country and who we are as people. They belong to all of us. The idea of preserving them forever was inspired. It came at a time when the entire world was weary from a war that had ultimately seemed so useless. We had paid a heavy price for peace and little knew the horrors that still lay ahead. Our national parks would become havens for even the common man as we grappled with the uglier sides of humanity during the decades that followed.

Our nation’s problems seem to persist but we the people mostly agree the we got it right when we chose to protect our glorious heritage through the national parks. They are a gift to everyone of us and inside their borders we are reminded again and again of what really matters.

Happy Birthday to our National Park System! May the next hundred years be even more glorious. 

This Is The Day

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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Facebook and Instagram are filled with first day of school photos this morning. Not only do we see pics of little ones but also the young men and women who are continuing with higher education in colleges across the land. There are images of teachers and their classrooms as well, some who are veterans and others who will greet their very first set of students today. There are nerves, fresh haircuts and new shoes making their way onto campuses from pre-school to schools of engineering. We see the innocent faces of kindergartners and the confident portraits of seniors. Yet another school year is beginning and once again as a nation we place our future hopes in the hands of the millions who are set to learn everything from the three Rs to Thermodynamics.

Our political world will discuss the importance of education ad nauseam. Some will point to the total failure and injustice of our system while others see schools as our only real hope for progress. We will argue about whether college is a right that should be free or a privilege that we must earn. We will discuss the over testing of our students and question the impact of political correctness on campuses. All the while the educators will quietly go about their work and the students will hopefully succeed in learning the skills and knowledge of the curriculum. In ten months everyone embarking on this journey will be irrevocably changed be it for better or worse. It’s virtually impossible to spend almost an entire year inside of a classroom without being affected by the daily interchanges that have taken place.

On Saturday I spent a lovely morning with a former student from the last school in which I worked before retiring. We chatted over omelets, waffles and hot tea. She is studying at the prestigious University of Houston Bauer School of Business and is in the final semesters of reaching her goal of becoming the first in her family to earn a college degree. She is an outstanding student not just because she is naturally bright but because she has a clear understanding of the amount of determination and willingness to work that achieving any worthy goal requires. She views education as an opportunity and realizes that it is up to her to seize the moment. She often advises and inspires other young people by reminding them that success is not easy but also not impossible. She warns them to be wary of defining themselves by their zip codes. In other words it doesn’t matter what ones economic status may be but rather how willing he/she is to put in the time and labor needed to grow and change.

This young woman is already on her way to great things. She understands the importance of networking with both other students and her professors. She knows how to ask for help when she is floundering. That is how the two of us first met and began to build a powerful relationship. She realizes that nobody is ever truly able to accomplish greatness alone. She constantly learns from everyone that she meets. She earnestly asks questions and listens intently. She reflects on what she has experienced and adjusts as needed. She shares the lessons she has learned with others. She has discovered the essence of education, the interplay of people and ideas that traces itself back to the challenges posed by Socrates. She fully understands that she will never be entirely finished with the process of discovery. It is a lifelong pursuit and she is not only willing but excited about the possibilities of her journey.

First days of school are always filled with hope. They provide both students and teachers with yet another chance to make good on their promises to be just a bit better than before. They define the moment when resolve is often at its peak. The fresh supplies and the new clothes are outward signs of gloriously positive intent. Everyone’s hearts are aflutter with both happiness and fear. We humans quite desperately want to be our best. It is part of our DNA to be curious. We have yet to completely understand what happens along the way to sometimes stunt the enthusiasm for learning among some of our young. We know that environment plays a huge role in beating people down but we nonetheless see many examples of individuals who overcome horrific conditions. We continue to seek answers as to how and why our children often seem to lose the innate sense of wonder with which they are born.

We sadly have a tendency to lay blame for perceived failures without really examining every facet of a situation. We all too often make false assumptions. We are particularly prone to pontificating about education without knowing the many layers of complexity that exist for each individual who enters the world of schooling. A child who is loved, well fed and blessed with a strong body and mind has a head start over one who is abused, hungry and saddled with disabilities. A teacher with a sunny, well equipped classroom of bright and well adjusted children is more likely to advance her pupils than one who must teach in overcrowded and dreary conditions that include an overabundance of children bearing the scars of living in fear. The fixes for broken schools require far more than an infusion of cash or a rewrite of the curriculum. They need faculties willing to invest their hearts into their work and students like the young lady with whom I spent my Saturday who understand the part that they must play in giving their all to the effort. It also requires parents who cheer for both the teachers and their children, making it clear that education is a family affair.

Today is a new day. The slates are blank once again. The pencils are long and sharp. The notebooks are filled with fresh sheets of paper waiting for the notes and calculations that will ultimately fill them. It is the season for planting new seeds, a time of great anticipation. We believe again. We try again. We are tan and rested and ready to go. It is what we do over and over as the school bells beckon our children once more. Our entire future depends on what will happen all across the land. Somewhere is the next great inventor, the peacemaker, the artistic genius, the brilliant business person, the contributor to our society that we cannot yet even imagine. There are teachers who will inspire our new generation and help to create the leaders that we will most surely need.

I feel a lump in my throat as I think of what lies ahead during the next ten months. There is an industry at work in schools that is filled with the best of intentions. I wish everyone well. I’ll continue to do my part by encouraging the educators who are still in the trenches and helping the students who struggle a bit with numbers. It’s up to all of us to join in this great endeavor and to celebrate the fact that we are never willing to give up on becoming our better selves. This is day one. Let’s all celebrate the possibilities and do our parts to make them happen.

Life In Color

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

5172363-joseph-and-his-coat-of-many-colors_331590I’ve read somewhere that dreaming in color is indicative of a creative mind. Not only have I never seen night time images in Kodachrome, but of late I don’t even dream much anymore which is probably related to the fact that as I age I don’t sleep for long stretches of time anymore. I am growing older and I come from a time far different than today. I was a small child when television was in its infancy. The programs that we watched on those tiny screens inside wooden boxes were in lovely shades of black, white and gray. We couldn’t even imagine that there would one day be an NBC peacock. We were as content to tune in to those colorless shows as we were to see images of ourselves in mostly black and white photographs. We were still a very long way from so many of the advances that now seem to be par for the course. The progress that we have made is good, as it should be. Those of us in our senior years are nostalgic but our reverie should not include a desire to return to outmoded ways of doing things.

I remember the great anticipation that ensued when the television series Bonanza became one of the first programs to feature living color. It was an exciting time even for those of us who did not yet own color televisions. Just knowing that someone, somewhere was seeing the green trees and blue skies of the Ponderosa was thrilling. We had entered a whole new world that would only become more and more brilliantly hued over the ensuing years.

It is all too appropriate that our modern day images be filled with a spectrum of reds and yellows and blues mixed together to create greens and purples and oranges. Life is a magnificent rainbow that includes the glorious variety of nature and mankind. There is a beauty in diversity that is never found in the dull sameness of black and white. We are all part of a colorful world that we should embrace but sometimes neglect or even refuse to do.

Just as we didn’t have color photographs or television back when I was very young we humans had a tendency to isolate ourselves from those whose skin appeared different from ours. We convinced ourselves that our ways were normal but in reality we must have known that it was not right to judge anyone without ever getting to know them. Eventually we allowed ourselves to be neighbors and friends with individuals of many different colors. We learned that we had been missing so much and that life was more vibrant and lovely than we had ever before imagined.

When I was just a girl I thought that I would never know anyone who was gay or a lesbian, but I was wrong. As those with differing sexual preferences began to bravely reveal themselves I learned that some of my friends and relatives alike belonged to a world that had once seemed so confusing to me but now seems so perfectly normal. The rainbow flag of the LGBT community is a beautiful thing that represents love. I wonder how we ever could have believed that caring relationships between any two people was anything other than beautiful.

With inventiveness and acceptance we have entered a brighter world filled with possibilities that seemed not to exist when I was young. We have shown that blending hues together is interesting and inclusive. The days of our ignorance should be gone but sadly they are not. Just as it would seem ludicrous to find someone still watching television from a small box with only shades of gray, it should be just as ridiculous to continue to harbor outdated thinking that is cruel, unforgiving and without reason.

As a Christian I was always taught that God makes each of us in His own image and likeness. If we reflect on that idea we realize that God is telling us that every one of His creations is wondrous and perfect. He loves us without conditions and wants us to feel the same. He sent His son to teach us how to behave. Unfortunately some of us never really understood the messages that Jesus made so clear. Not once did He preach that we should spurn those who are not like us. He often went out of His way to embrace those who were outcasts of society. I interpret His actions as meaning that the rules are very simple. We must love everyone, even those who appear to be or think differently. It’s not really that difficult to do. It doesn’t even take much practice. It just requires suspending all restrictions and coloring outside of the lines. We have to break the old rules to follow the new rules which are far more right and just.

Once we experience the colors of the world there is no turning back. We burst out of the boxes that have constricted us and see the watercolors that make life so much more enjoyable. We begin to realize that we only see different hues because of the way our eyes are processing the light. Being able to see the true appeal of all of the world is a gift that makes us feel more joyful. Without the great big box of crayons life would indeed be dull.

Winter has always been symbolic of death. With its withering and limited palette of variations in light it has a certain beauty but none as breathtaking as the riotous colors of spring, a time of life and renewal. We can choose the end of the seasons or the hopeful beginning. It us up to each of us to see the full spectrum of life and rejoice in it.

I am often saddened in knowing that we still have many people who are unwilling to change but I’d like to believe that they are more and more often becoming the minority among us. Slowly but surely we are shining the light on a more beautiful way of living. Because our young have always been more willing to take risks and embrace adventure, they are leading the way to more colorful tomorrows and that is good. Perhaps one day the pallid world of old will be housed in an ancient junkyard and all of us will view life in color. 

A Season of Bounty

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Swinging-Bridge-at-Caddo-Gap-1I was six years old in the summer of 1956. It was a very good time in my life. Our family lived in a beautiful home within walking distance of my school. My best friend, Lynda, lived right across the street and from the time that we awoke each morning we rode our bicycles and played in the woods at the edges of our neighborhood. That summer my family traveled to Arkansas to visit my grandparents’ farm. It was a season of plenty in which all of my childhood dreams were beautiful. I had little idea that storms were brewing for me and that life was already difficult for others that I did not know. I reveled in the gloriousness of that time while ignoring the signs that something was not quite right.

Life with my grandparents was deliciously fun. We helped my grandfather milk his cow each morning and I vividly remember how velvety the warm milk looked as it filled the tin bucket with a foamy white mixture. I recall the feel of the cow’s utter and my amazement that my brother’s favorite drink didn’t actually come from the glass bottles that the milkman delivered to our doorstep each week. I can still smell the sweetness of the hay in the barn and hear the chickens raising a ruckus in their pen as the rooster strutted from hen to hen crowing for attention. How I loved being part of that scene and watching my grandpa’s strong hands do his work while he puffed on a pipe that hung from his lips and sent a lovely aroma into the air.

My grandmother took us on tours of her gardens and into the hills on their property wearing overalls, rubber boots, a long sleeved shirt and a huge wide brimmed hat. I thought it strange that she covered her skin in ninety degree weather but back then I did not yet know about skin cancer or the fact that her folk knowledge was so wise. She taught me and my brothers about the birds that we saw along our trek and instructed us on the kind of rocks that were strewn along our path. She demonstrated how to pick berries while checking for the presence snakes and showed us the proper way to drink the cooling waters from the creek. We learned about the land and how to protect it for future generations.

My brothers and I picked peaches alongside my grandparents, ignoring their warnings that we should protect ourselves with clothing that covered our arms and legs. We soon enough learned why our shorts and sandals were insufficient protection from the furry texture of the fruit that made our limbs itch as though we had been attacked by a thousand mosquitoes. At night we caught fireflies in jars with holes in the lids that Grandma had prepared. Our glass containers became nature’s flashlights until we freed the insects at the end of our play. Our grandmother created butterfly nets out of coat hangers and cloth. She taught us how to surprise the lovely winged creatures and catch them so that we might better observe them. Always she insisted that we let them fly free once we had watched them for a few minutes.

Grandpa took us into town to check his mail each day. We rode on the leather seats of his Plymouth which smelled of his tobacco and soap. He always wore a clean white shirt, polished black boots, suspenders and a big straw hat. He visited with his neighbors at the post office and bragged about us as grandfathers have been doing for generations. If we were especially good he took us to the grocery store and bought us each a cold soda that we selected from a big metal box filled with chunks of ice. I always noticed how much the townspeople respected him and I felt so proud and happy with him.

I had little idea back then how much the world was already changing. I overheard the discussions between my father and grandfather as they wondered what the governor of Arkansas was going to do about the order to integrate the schools in the coming fall. I didn’t totally understand what they were saying but their serious demeanors told me that it was something important. I didn’t know then that my family would soon embark on a nomadic adventure that would take us to California and back or that my father would be dead in less than a year. I had little warning that I would begin to see things happening in our country that somehow felt wrong even to my innocent and childish mind. On those hot summer days in Arkansas I saw only the bounty of the season. I felt as though I had landed in a kind of paradise.

All hell would break lose in the coming months when Governor Faubus would vow to never allow black children to integrate the Arkansas schools. My father would announce that we were moving to San Jose, California and I would grudgingly leave my extended family and my friends. I would watch as civil unrest took hold across the country and I would observe racism with naive confusion. I began to formulate a belief system that was far more generous than that of most of the adults that I observed. For the first time in my life I began to question their behavior as I realized that the bounty that I enjoyed was not shared equally by everyone. I was pushed by events into an early onset of maturity that felt uncomfortable and challenged the status quo.

Sixty years later I look back on that summer with mixed emotions. It was a joyful time that somehow masked the realities that were looming all around me. In a year I would feel like a different person but my lovely memories of that time with my grandparents would keep the light of optimism alive inside my soul. I would forever love the simplicity and honesty of nature while understanding the complex nature of human beings. I would see that I had been blessed by the random act of my birth. But for luck I might have been one of those nine students who had to endure violence just to go to school in Little Rock, Arkansas. I would watch as death, wars, assassinations and violence served as a backdrop for the years of my coming of age. I would witness the contradictions and hardships of the human experience always understanding how many blessings invariably came my way.

I still remember that wonderful summer of 1956 and cherish my recollections with all of my heart. I would ultimately find my way after the death of my father and learn how to find the bounty of even the most difficult seasons of my life. I had realized in that time just how soothing Mother nature may be. I had realized the depth of my grandparents’ love for me. I understood that I have always been part of something much bigger than myself and that I have never really been alone in my struggles. I found strength before I even knew that I possessed it. That summer would serve me well to this very day. I would find the bounty in life again and again and work to extend it to those who had not always shared it with me. Life has been good.

Things That Make Me Smile

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

smiley-face-symbols-detlev-van-ravenswaayI’ve got a goofy smile. One eye squints almost shut and my mouth is crooked. I resemble a gnome when I’m happy but but I still love any occasion that turns up the corners of my mouth. This month I’ve had a number of such times and all of them have involved people. The truth is that no amount of money nor fame is better than knowing that there are people who really care about me and that I in turn love. I’ve been lucky enough to see many of them of late and all of them make me beam with unadulterated joy.

I try to get together with a group of friends from my last job as often as possible. Most of them are still working so it’s not easy to find a date when we are all free but luckily we did so not long ago. We met up at Ninfa’s on Navigation which, on a side note, I highly recommend. As is always the case we laughed and chattered and felt so very relaxed with one another. A plus was the fact that the food was also great. Someone remarked that most of us were English majors in college. I don’t know if that has anything to do with how well we get along but it’s amazing how in sync we always seem to be. We’ve agreed to meet again before school starts so that we might compare stories about the trips that each of us will be taking during these warm months. I have no doubt that we will once again talk and grin until we get dirty looks from the waiters hoping that we get the hint and move on.

A certain graduation brought a huge smile to my face recently. It was for a young man whom I had tutored for three years. He had worked quite hard to earn his diploma and I knew as well as anyone how much the occasion meant to him. I felt as though I was floating through the air when he walked across the stage. It was as grand a day as I have experienced in a long time. My face must have shown my elation as the corners of my mouth almost touched my ears.

My grandson is home from college for the summer. I only got to see him a couple of times during the school year. He attends Purdue University and has a schedule as busy as the President of the United States. It was so good to finally meet up with him at Bob’s Taco Station if only for an hour or so. I marveled at how much he has matured in only one short year. He is definitely a man now. Not a shred of boyishness seems to remain in his demeanor. A smile of pride and of course lots of love lit up my face the whole time that we were together.

I had the privilege of serving as a chaperone for my godson and his brother while their mother attended a conference a couple of weeks ago. We all flew together to Boston and while she worked, we played. Boy was it fun! I suspect that I was even smiling in my sleep. We saw so many wondrous things but best of all we got to know each other even better. It was a very special time in which we laughed and told silly stories and just felt as comfortable as can be. I can’t wait until I am needed for another trip one day. We built some important memories together which will no doubt always bring brightness to my face whenever I recall them.

My second oldest grandson is going to be a senior in high school next year. He is in the process of visiting colleges and so Mike and I took him to Texas A&M University a week ago. We had a grand time touring the recreation center, the dorms and many of the engineering buildings. I have a particular love for the Aggies because my father was one. Every time I visit the campus I feel his spirit. I know that he will be quite proud if his great grandson decides to get his education there. I smiled quite a bit at the thought of having another Aggie in the family, especially the one who just happens to be named after my dad. When my grandson admitted that he would be quite excited to go there I suspect that my grin was so big that I resembled a Cheshire cat. It was fun to be able to share this important moment with him.

Last Saturday I invited several of my former students to a party at my house. I wanted to celebrate their graduations from college. It was rewarding to hear how wonderfully they are all doing. I want to believe that I may have had at least a tiny bit of influence on them. I know that they bring me incalculable happiness. Knowing that they have already accomplished so much makes my teaching years seem all the more fruitful. I smiled and smiled and smiled as they spoke of their successes and their dreams. I hope that my expression told them how much I love them.

On Father’s Day I made dinner for Mike and his dad. We had an incredible time just as we always do. They are the two most important men in my life. Both of them watch over me and would probably walk through fire for me. Just being with them is reason enough to smile. We have a long history of sharing happiness and sorrow. I burst into a visage of elation when I think of how lucky I have been to be with the two of them. They make me feel so beautiful and important that I fairly beam.

I just spent the past week in a trailer built for two with my daughter and her three children. Stuffing the six of us inside reminded me of a circus act when dozens of clowns go inside a tiny car. For a time the refrigerator didn’t work and all of us were almost eaten alive by chiggers but somehow we muddled through. Nothing could have kept me from beaming from ear to ear. Just being together was all that I needed to feel elated. We went to see movies on a workday afternoon and ate delicious hamburgers and fries from Hopdoddy. We walked through museums filled with scientific wonders and history. In the evenings I watched the children swim at McKInney Falls. They were so delighted as they jumped into the cooling waters. Our time together was a blast and we hardly noticed that we were stuffed inside our home on wheels like sardines.

While we were camping in Austin one of my cousins invited us to visit with her and her family. They treated us to a gourmet dinner that included a taste test of seven different yummy desserts. The kids had great fun playing with Legos and making music while we adults enjoyed sharing stories about our ancestors. There were happy faces all around.

These are the things that make me smile. Right now I’m feeling quite content as I gaze on the flowers in my yard and watch the birds playing in the trees. It’s summertime and the whole world is seems to be alive. Best of all my adventures have only just begun. We’ll be celebrating my mother’s birthday on Monday and in about a week we will head for California. There are so many reasons to be elated that I suspect I am wearing a smile even now.