Category: Writing

Speak Out

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

censorship-1.gifAttending college was one of the most exciting times of my life. My professors challenged the status quo of my beliefs and taught me how to think critically. They were never satisfied with having me simply regurgitate what I had learned. They insisted that I show evidence of having considered the pros and cons of every argument or theory. They showed me the importance of viewing the world from multiple points of view. I remember attending events featuring some of the most controversial speakers of the era. It mattered not whether I agreed with them, but rather that I allow myself to widen my own horizons. Some of those that I heard were brilliant and I wrote others off, but always there was the sheer enjoyment of becoming familiar with new and intriguing philosophies.

When I became a teacher I was enthralled with the idea of showing my students how to become critical thinkers. Even in mathematics classes we compared and contrasted differing methods for solving problems and began to discuss the merits of each. I once prefaced such an exercise by having my students read accounts of a Revolutionary War battle written by four quite different individuals. One was the eyewitness account of a patriot, another was from a letter written by a British soldier. Still another was penned by Winston Churchill for his famous history and the last was from the point of view of a bystander who had little interest in choosing sides. The students immediately realized that how we see the world is influenced by all of the complexities of our lifetime. They began to question who had been in the right and wondered if we ever get a totally unbiased reporting of events. It was quite rewarding to watch the scales fall from their eyes and to experience their enthusiasm in being able to engage in a debate.

I am and always will be a staunch proponent of free speech. Unlike many people that I know, I actually enjoy hearing from individuals whose opinions are diametrically opposed to mine. When in their company I listen with as open a mind as I might possibly muster, realizing that my own thinking is rooted in the totality of my lifetime. My goal is not to catch them in mistakes but to truly learn from them. It is rather amazing how much I derive from even the most ridiculous sounding ideas. I have always felt that we tend to spend too much time composing our responses and not nearly enough attempting to understand why people believe as they do.

Obviously there are many instances in which I am not even minutely swayed by someone’s beliefs, particularly when I sense that they are evil or violent. I have read Mein Kampf not because I am a follower of Nazi propaganda, but because I think it is important to know what lies in the minds of such people. Perhaps the biggest mistake that too many make is running away from the rants of those who would impinge on our freedoms. In truth we should make ourselves aware of even their most rancid and unbearable thinking. I agree with the Godfather that it is important to keep our enemies close.

I abhor censorship of any kind. Free speech is perhaps our most important right as citizens. When I write my blog each weekday I am fully aware that I will annoy or even anger some who read my words, but I will fight to the death for my right to state what I believe. I will do the same for anyone else, even those with whom I totally disagree. The hallmark of totalitarianism is the tendency to eliminate the written or spoken words of those voicing alternative points of view. A free nation insures free expression of ideas in all phases of society. If someone urinates on a cross and calls it art I may choose to disagree and even feel offended, but I will never insist that the offering be destroyed.

I am somewhat befuddled by the current trend to shut down free speech at universities that were once bastions of open expression. I don’t personally like Ann Coulter but I have no problem with having her speak on the campus of any college including my alma mater. I don’t have to attend the event and I certainly don’t have to agree with anything that she says. What I should insist on is that she have her opportunity to speak her mind without interference. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but her words will never hurt me. In fact, I suspect that her audience would be rather small if not for all of the unearned publicity that she gets each time a group of students threaten violence if she shows up to give a speech.

The history of the world is filled with instances of book burnings and executions of people whose thoughts and words seemed controversial. The Spanish Inquisition was a dark time of squelching ideas. Members of ISIL destroy anyone and anything that is offensive to them. Surely the examples of Nazi and Communist oppression should teach us that it is in an open society that we progress as humans, not one in which we refuse to allow alternative points of view. Unfortunately I fear that we are presently on a razor thin line between wanting to be inoffensive and becoming unthinking censors. It is my love of liberty that tells me that we must be very careful in protecting our rights as free men and women. All of us should be loudly complaining any time that there are attempts to silence any among us, regardless of whether we agree with that individual’s beliefs or not.

With regards to what I am presently witnessing I am reminded of the now famous words of Pastor Martin Niemoller:

First they came for the socialists and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak for me.

Speak out loudly and clearly. Let no one take away the free speech of any among us.

The Strong

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Purpose

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

puzzleI recently heard a woman from the Hoover Institute at Stanford University speak about the elusiveness of happiness in today’s world. It seems that we humans are seeking peace and joy for ourselves more than ever and somehow our searches are leaving us empty handed. In a time when we should be feeling more comfortable and joyful than ever, we are ironically filled with anxiety and guilt. Instead of groping aimlessly for answers, we should realize that true contentment is generally found in leading a purposeful life, but what is that actually, and how do we find it?

Purpose has as its object the finding of meaning or a grand design in life. It is going to be different for each of us. Unfortunately we are surrounded by many so called experts who seem intent on undermining our individual efforts to define what is most important, complicating our attempts to find ourselves in a world that can be quite cruel if it thinks that we have chosen unwisely. We are encouraged to use our talents well and often doing so involves being all things to many different people. We have many unique responsibilities, possibilities and characteristics that make us tick. The process of determining how to live can be quite overwhelming unless we are strong enough to follow our own hearts rather than the dictates of others.

I myself have been utterly confused from time to time as I mapped out a pathway for my personal existence. I wanted to be a writer but was told again and again by well meaning adults that thinking of myself as a word smith was a frivolous and self centered activity that would never amount to much. I decided to become a teacher but was often reminded that I might have been a doctor or a lawyer and made more of an impact on the world. I also felt a compelling sense of responsibility to my family which I believed should always come first. It was difficult and confusing to balance all of my personal desires with the needs and ideas of everyone else. It was only when I found out what gave me a real sense of purpose that I found the contentment that I sought.

I prefer the immaterial rewards of teaching to those that are monetary. I am altruistic by nature and need to feel a strong sense of meaning in my work. I have felt the most comfortable with myself in knowing that I have attempted to do my best to care for my loved ones and friends. I have learned how to carve out time to fulfill my desire to write alongside my life’s work. In other words I have found purpose along many different avenues and that has brought me much joy. Being myself has been a process of trial and error, satisfaction and disappointment. I have learned much about myself along the way and that self knowledge has helped me to know what I must do.

Because something works for one person does not necessarily mean that it will work for another. One need not seek careers in service to others to find happiness, nor is joy  necessarily found in the more creative ventures. Sometimes the mundane is a font of delight for some folks.

My grandmother was the epitome of contentment and yet her life was built around an unchanging routine of cooking, sewing and gardening. She found true elation in rolling biscuits with the precision of a master chef. She marveled at the gifts of nature when she strode through the rows of vegetables that she had planted, wearing her sunbonnet and overalls like Paris fashions. She created quilts and crocheted tablecloths worthy of kings with little more than feed sacks and her imagination as her tools of the trade. She always wore a smile of satisfaction on her face.

My sister-in-law spent a lifetime working as an engineer in a world that was dominated by men when she first dared to enter it. By the time she retired she had done wondrous things and pioneered the role of women in a field that had once been hostile to her. She reveled in the challenges, determined to prove that women can be leaders in unconventional careers while still successfully raising a family. She fulfilled all of her desires in a very different way from me and my grandmother.

I have found that the key for anyone is to do what makes him/her excited about getting started each day. When that sense of expectation is missing, so will the joy be absent. Far too many people feel like drones in a beehive, working for the man rather than for themselves. They fear admitting their discontent and making the changes that they need to find relevance in the way they spend their days. It takes great courage to face down the devil of misery but the rewards for doing so are immeasurable, even when the whole world may see the move as being irresponsible or ridiculous.

I was only eight when my father died, but old enough to notice that he didn’t appear to like his work. He was a mechanical engineer who often switched jobs and who spoke longingly of other fields that he might have entered. He was the bread winner for our family and he had spent years getting his degree. I suppose that he felt honor bound to continue in his work even though it was seemingly joyless for him. He was a man of so many talents and perhaps he simply needed to try something a bit different but he never got or created the opportunity to do so.

I know a man who was also an engineer who left that career path to become a teacher. He is an extraordinarily talented educator who found his true vocation in a classroom. He has won awards for his ability to motivate youngsters and best of all he has discovered his niche, his purpose. He walks through life with a huge grin on his face. There were those who thought that he had lost his mind when he first announced his intention to change professions but his transformation from misery to elation has convinced even his biggest detractors of the reasoning behind his move.

Each of us has a special role to fulfill in this world. If we manage to find a perfect match for our talents and our interests our lives will be transformed. We all need to encourage those who are seeking satisfying destinies, not by insisting that they follow traditional routes but by supporting them as they try the things that make them feel most alive. Happiness is indeed found in purpose, in finding the justification for our existence. We must explore as we seek answers for not just how to live, but why. When we unravel that glorious personal puzzle we experience a sense of happiness that is indescribable. Everyone should enjoy such a discovery. 

The Death of Fairytales

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

QVcoronationWhen I was a little girl women’s roles were still mostly traditional. Few of the women that I knew worked full time outside of the home. My mother was forced into such a situation when she became a widow, otherwise I doubt that she would have been anything other than a homemaker. I had a couple of aunts who were trailblazers in terms of having careers and some of my neighbors were employed in very interesting jobs. One was a commercial artist who wore exotic clothing and furnished her house with ultra modern furniture. Another was a lawyer who sometimes cried when speaking of her inability to have children but seemed to truly enjoy her work. She often invited me over for tea and to play cards or checkers, all the while encouraging me to do something remarkable with my life just as she had. All in all though not many women were yet ready for the feminist revolution that would eventually off like a rocket when I became a teenager.

As a very young child I dreamed of being a princess or a queen. Fairytales had me convinced that women lucky enough to live in castles and bear titles were the most fortunate maidens on the planet. I recall my disappointment the first time that I realized that I was never going to be discovered at a formal ball by a handsome prince. I was not born of noble blood and therefore would always be deemed unworthy of the notice of a monarch. I would lead the life of an ordinary soul without benefit of riches and fame unless I earned such things myself.

I got over my sadness rather quickly and made my own way in the world. I haven’t been showered with wealth but I have had a great life all in all. I have always found time for my favorite hobby which is reading. Biographies have fascinated me for as long as I can remember and among those that I enjoy learning about are women who became queens. For that reason I have been particularly excited about watching Victoria on PBS and The Crown on Netflix. The stories about Queen Victoria and Queen Elizabeth respectively have been quite fascinating while also convincing me that I am rather lucky not to have to wear their shoes.

Both women spent the majority of their lives locked into responsibilities that were thrust upon them at very young ages. While there were jewels, lovely clothing, expansive gatherings and adventurous trips to keep them entertained, they also had to adhere to rigid traditions and rules that impinged on their freedoms far more than I would ever be willing to endure. They had to be careful of every utterance and action lest they do irreparable harm to the monarchy or the country. They were expected to select their spouses from a very limited field of candidates, most often from a band of royal cousins. They were in the public eye continuously and criticized readily for any perceived missteps. To me the lifestyles that they were forced to accept were akin to living in a cage in a zoo.

Victoria quite unexpectedly ascended to the throne and because she was quite young there were those who felt that their claims to office were far more reasonable than hers, making her first forays into ruling much like walking through a minefield. Nonetheless she did her best to rise to the occasion only to be criticized when she chose to marry her first cousin, Albert, a man of Germanic heritage deemed unworthy of the position. As it happened, Victoria and Albert had quite a love affair and together created a very large family of children whose influence would spread across all of Europe and ultimately lead to a world war. Sadly Victoria was a rather uninvolved but highly critical mother who made life very difficult for her offspring. Albert was the better parent but he died fairly young leaving Victoria in a state of depression that lead to a total breakdown. She would wear her dark widow’s weeds for the rest of her days and for the most part lose interest in both her country and her children. She ultimately became known for her melancholy and nagging nature, hardly the possessor of happiness that I had imagined a queen to be.

Years later on of her descendants, Elizabeth, would be entrusted with the same role that might not have been hers had her uncle Edward not abdicated the throne to marry a twice divorced American woman whom he passionately loved. Elizabeth was barely in her twenties when her father, the king, died from lung cancer. Like Victoria she had also wed a cousin, Phillip, whose lineage was traceable back to the same Victoria from whence she garnered her birthright. She had to learn how to put the crown before all else in her life and as we have all witnessed over the years that role has placed her in difficult situations again and again. Even though she is the monarch she has no say in the politics of her nation and she must be incredibly discreet in both her commentaries and actions.

As the head of the Anglican Church Elizabeth was forced to rule against her sister who wanted to marry a divorced man. The resulting feelings of betrayal and unhappiness that her sibling experienced would blight the two women’s relationship for years to come. A similar scandal played out decades later when Elizabeth’s own children found themselves in unhappy marriages that publicly broke apart. I have often wondered if the idealistic Princess Diana had imagined that her life would be as magical as a fairytale only to find that the reality of royalty is routine, dreary and devoid of the most basic freedoms that the rest of us enjoy. The moment when she felt trapped in a nightmare must have been devastating and her dutifully trained mother-in-law would not have been able to empathize to ease some of her concerns.

The more I learn about being a royal personage, the less I am inclined to want to have anything even remotely resembling such a way of life. I am the one who is fortunate in being able to go wherever I wish without worry that someone is stalking me or judging my every move. The only restrictions on whom I would marry were the qualifications that I had deemed important to a good relationship. I have been able to choose my career pathway and determine how many children to bear. The fact that I had no male heirs matters not at all. I can openly utter my political views and chart my daily course. If I want to disappear for a day or a week, I am free to do so. My anonymity is a grand gift that allows me to be myself.

If I were to rewrite fairytales for modern girls, I would create heroines who spurn the trappings of a princess in lieu of liberty. Snow White would divide the household duties among each of the dwarfs and go to work with them as the forewoman of the mine. Cinderella would create a professional chimney cleaning service with offices worldwide and a reputation for paying her employees well above the minimum wage. Beauty would write a best selling book and marry the Beast as an equal partner. None of these brilliant women would have the goal of becoming a monarch or a regent. They would understand the pitfalls of being trapped in such occupations and create lives of their own.

I put my girlish beliefs away long ago. I no longer envy the lifestyles of royal personages who must become figureheads for a nation. I believe that I have found far greater satisfaction and meaning in the humble life that I have lived. I suspect that there have been times when those who must endure the titles of monarchies may agree with me.

East Meets West

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

captionI recall learning how to write a proper letter in elementary school. At the end of our practice the teacher surprised us by announcing that she had a list of children from Japan who wanted to communicate with an American pen pal. I immediately agreed to send a well written epistle if chosen for the honor of meeting a new friend in a faraway land. Happily I was one of the lucky ones who received the name and address of a Japanese girl who was waiting to hear from me.

My mother took me to a stationary store where I found some lovely lightweight paper with matching envelopes that would work well for sending an airmail post. It was a pale sea foam green and had tiny pink rosebuds imprinted in the background. It was the most beautiful parchment that I had ever seen. I was quite proud to have such a lovely means of getting to know my Japanese counterpart.

Following the instructions that my teacher had taught me and using my very best penmanship I introduced myself hoping that I would sound interesting enough to elicit a response. Once the letter was complete I carefully and nervously folded the sheets and enclosed them along with a school photo of myself inside the envelope. Mama drove me to the post office to be certain that there was enough postage on my letter to get it to Kyoto, Japan as quickly as possible. Then I waited and waited, checking my mailbox as soon I as got home from school each day.

It seemed like an eternity before I received a response. Some of my friends who had also written their pen pals had already brought letters from their correspondents to school to show the rest of us. I was beginning to wonder if I had sounded too boring to be worthy of a reply when a huge manila envelope came with my name printed neatly on it. Inside was a lovely book filled with exquisite photos of Kyoto. There were also multiple photographs of my pen pal who was a true dark haired beauty wearing a school uniform in one and traditional Japanese dress in another. She enthusiastically wrote about her excitement in receiving a letter from me and then told me all about herself. I was beside myself with wonder at the very idea of communicating with someone who lived so far away and in such a lovely place.

Over time we often wrote back and forth and made the kind of pledges that children often do that we would be best friends forever and that one day we would meet each other in person when we visited each other’s homes. I liked to imagine her walking through cherry blossoms and drinking exotic teas while she seemed intent on insisting that I must surely know lots of Texans who rode horses and did tricks with ropes. We both fantasized quite a bit and I suspect that we each became a bit disenchanted when we realized that life was actually rather mundane for both of us, filled with studies and the challenges growing up.

Eventually we hit our teenage years and became busier and busier and the letters came and went less and less frequently. Finally we were lucky to manage to write each other one time a year and then our longtime correspondence came to an end. I told myself that I would resurrect our friendship soon enough but I never seemed to find the time. What had been so much fun simply fizzled out but not without leaving a dramatic imprint on me. I had developed an enduring fascination with Japan that even decades later has not abated. I love to read about Japan, watch movies about Japan and I have even been known to have crushes on Japanese actors. In the back of my mind there has always been a dream of one day traveling there, especially to Kyoto.

I still have the book that my long ago friend sent to me. Sadly I did not keep the letters and time has erased my memory of her name. I have no address that might lead me to her again but I often think of her and wonder how her life has been. I’m curious to know if she married and had children. I try to imagine what type of job she may have held. She was quite artistic so I suspect that she did something creative. I hope that she has been happy and healthy and been able to accomplish her dreams. I’d like to think that she remembers our brief friendship and enjoyed it as much as I did. I feel guilty that I did not try hard enough to keep in touch and worry that something may have happened to her that prevented her from writing. I wish that I had inquired about her even if only in a brief message letting her know that I cared.

I never got to Japan. There were always other places to go and things to do. I was busy raising a family, taking care of my mother, working, sending my children to college. The years went by so quickly that I hardly noticed. I eventually rode horses now and again which I think she may have liked to know. I hiked to the top of mountains where it seemed as though I could see forever and I imagined her enjoying life somewhere off in the distance.

I did not forget her. How could I? Those letters from her gave me so much pleasure. They made me feel as if I had been part of a grand adventure. She and I shared our stories and our secrets and found that the east and the west were more alike than they were different. We were two girls who dreamed of conquering our respective worlds and I would like to believe that both of us did.