A Great Destination

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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It’s January and I have roses and azaleas blooming in my yard. Houston is a funny place. Some years the weather is like Florida or southern California. The temperature stays in the sixties and seventies for most of the winter and the plants are fooled into thinking that it is already spring. Now and again we actually get some ice and snow, but generally our winters are mild. It’s one of those lovely things that makes up for the heat of the summer, and it’s still just cool enough to allow women to wear their boots.

Houston was named a top place to visit by Forbes magazine. Lots of folks wondered why in the world anyone would choose our city as a destination. After all our roads are perennially under construction and the traffic can often be brutal. Most of us who live here take it for granted that nobody would come for the scenery with our flat as a pancake landscape. What we don’t seem to think about are some quite wonderful attractions that we have that might actually be quite appealing for visitors.

For some time now Houston has been ranked as one of the best foodie towns in the country. It competes nicely with New Orleans, New York City, San Francisco and Los Angeles. There are some who believe that the food here may even be the best in the country. We have some amazing chefs and they don’t just provide a meat and potatoes kind of fare. The diversity in our city brings cuisine from all over the world and innovations in cooking that make it worthy of a visit for anyone who enjoys fine dining at its best.

Of course it may seem ridiculous to think that anyone would want to visit H-Town just to eat, and that’s a good point, but there are still lots of things to do here. We have sporting events at the professional level year round and our universities provide additional athletic venues that are lots of fun. Our museums are wonderful and boast variety from science to medicine to space to modern art. It would take a week to visit each of them and the effort would be well worth it.

Speaking of the arts, our Alley Theater is world renowned and it’s not the only cast of players in town. There’s also the Houston Symphony, the Houston Ballet, and Theater Under the Stars. At any given moment there are great musicians and comedians playing in town at Jones Hall, the Reliant Center, the Toyota Center, the Smart Financial Center, Jones Hall, the Woodlands, the Wortham Center or the Hobby Center. Our universities also host plays and musical festivals which are of exceptional quality.

Shopping is world class as well with the Galleria attracting folks from all over the world and smaller places like Memorial City, Highland Village, or the Woodlands offering a wonderful experience in their own right. There are even outlet malls and quaint shops dotted all over the city and its suburbs. Houston has a number of Farmer’s Markets as well that offer everything from spices to pottery along with fresh fruits and vegetables.

A short trip of about an hour will take visitors to Galveston with its beaches, historical homes, and quirky shops. There’s fun to be had swimming, boating or just relaxing in the sun and sand. The seafood there has its own unique taste and ranks with some of the best to be found anywhere.

I think that those who are quick to make fun of Houston’s designation as a great place to visit forget about how fun a trip here might be. With the right planning a traveler can catch the Houston Rodeo or spend a day at the Nutcracker Market. We host quilt shows that feature exhibitions from all over the world. The Houston Garden Club Bulb Mart is a fall favorite along with some of the most glorious weather that the city has to offer.

Those of us who live here are always so busy that we don’t stop to think of how much there is to do at any given moment. For a newcomer the possibilities for fun and entertainment are almost endless. We don’t boast any mountains or grand natural wonders but our springtime Azalea Trail is breathtaking. A trip along Buffalo Bayou is a wonder. A day spent at Brazos Bend State Park is both educational and inspiring with its up close encounters with wildlife and its observatory aimed at the heavens. A drive through River Oaks is a fun as visiting the lovely homes in New Orleans.

I suspect that an out of towner would easily be able to fill a calendar with activities for weeks just with things I have mentioned and I haven’t even skimmed the surface of the many sights that we have here in Houston. I totally understand why my city was chosen as a great destination for anyone hoping to have a great vacation. In fact, I’d like to challenge Houstonians to try a “staycation” someday to enjoy what our great city has to offer.

I am the first to admit that Houston has its flaws but I have yet to travel to any place that is perfect. In the grand scheme of things Houston can be lots of fun and even provide a few nature activities for those who prefer the outdoors. It doesn’t take a great deal of imagination to find more than enough to do. 

Where Were the Chaperones?

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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My head is filled with so many thoughts as I sit here on a chilly morning attempting to focus on one topic rather than the variety of ideas that are racing through my mind. It’s a holiday today so the sound of children chattering as they load onto the school bus that stops across from my house is missing from my usual routine. I’m often inspired by those little voices because more than anything my life has been devoted to preparing our young ones for the future. Hearing them is always music to my ears and I often long for the days when their journey in the big yellow bus might have brought them to me. Like the mothers that hover over them as they depart, I too became thoroughly engrossed in concern for their well being, so it is only natural that even in retirement I think of what they need to know and learn if they are to have the strength and determination that they will need to navigate through the challenges of life.

I had to learn how to be an observer in my work, someone who rarely missed a single thing that was happening or about to happen in my classroom. Mine and that of all teachers was an exhausting job. I had to wear “Granny Gump” shoes because I rarely sat down. My bladder stretched to an unhealthy volume because I did not have the luxury of attending to it right away. Every minute of every day I assumed the role of a guardian angel for each of my students. I believed that I had a responsibility to provide them with more than just a knowledge of mathematical concepts. I was indeed responsible for their very safety and I took that charge quite seriously.

I had a love/hate relationship with field trips. I enjoyed the times when my students had opportunities to learn more about the world in an up close and personal fashion, but I also became hyper vigilant in such circumstances. I was about as relaxed as a secret service agent whenever I was out and about with them. I counted heads and watched every movement, listened to every word. I learned from experience that bad things might happen in the blink of an eye. For that reason I enlisted the help of multiple chaperones and stressed the importance of each adult keeping track of their designated group. I despised occasions when the leaders of the trips allowed the students to run freely even inside a contained area. I felt the need to watch over them every second, not so much because I did not trust them, but because I did not trust what kind of bad situations they might find themselves in if no adult were guiding them.

I’m saddened by the stories of last weekend regarding the group of young boys from a Kentucky High School who found themselves in the center of controversy in an incident that occurred near the Lincoln Memorial. The full details of the what happened vary depending on whether or not the context of what occurred is taken into account. That being said I find myself thinking of how easily this entire situation with the students might have been avoided if only adult chaperones and a set of rules had been followed. I find myself wondering why nobody was in charge.

Rule number one would have been to break the large group of young men down into manageable groups of five or six students assigned to one reliable adult who was either a teacher, administrator or parent. That individual needed to be instructed to keep his/her group in sight at all times. After all, most of the kids were minors and even though they may have thought of themselves as being perfectly capable of navigating through Washington D.C. alone the school ultimately was responsible for them while so far away from home.

Another little trick for keeping the boys safe would have been to coordinate the clothing for each day of travel. This can usually be done with special trip shirts or uniforms. One day might be all blue shirts, another white and so forth. In such circumstances it becomes quite easy to spot the members of the school even in a crowd. Extraneous items like baseball caps and such might be purchased as souvenirs but not worn in the public excursions. With such rules there would be no worry that someone might be offended by the appearance of the students because they would all look the same.

Any teacher or adult who has ever been on a trip with a group of high school students knows that even with the best possible planning things can and do go awry. Nonetheless, with a good procedure and lots of instruction regarding what is and is not permissible things certainly go more smoothly than if the youngsters are left to their own resources.

What happened on the National Mall was unfortunate. A large group of boys was allowed to tour on their own and instructed to meet at the Lincoln Memorial at a certain time to wait for a bus. With protestors lurking around every corner and some of the boys wearing political caps leaving them without adults to supervise was negligent. As minors they were almost certain to find trouble in the highly charged atmosphere. They may have reacted badly but we have to remember that their adolescent brains still don’t work as well as we might wish. It was naive and dangerous to leave them to their own resources.

I suspect that everyone over the age of thirty can point to something that they did as a teenager that was foolish and perhaps even brutally wrong. In retrospect we may wonder what we were thinking, but the truth is that we probably were simply reacting rather than forming any rational ideas. Very few people can honestly say that they have been perfectly perfect particularly in sticky situations. I suspect that these boys got caught up in something that they did not know how to control and I blame a host of adults for both agitating them and not properly being there to help them.

The take away from this story should be the acknowledgement that the adults dropped the ball. They were not around to guide and protect school boys who might have learned some valuable lessons if things had been handled properly. There were many teachable moments during the confrontation. Sadly the people who might have guided them were nowhere to be found. As a former teacher and a parent I would be demanding answers from all of the adults who failed our young on so many levels regarding what seems to have happened. Where were the chaperones when they were needed?

Lying Under a Blanket

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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I’ve mentioned before that I’m a huge fan of This Is Us. The writing is so well done that I find myself identifying with the stories and characters on a personal level, and there has yet to be an episode that did not make me cry either tears of joy or remembrance of sadness. By happenstance the father’s name in the series is Jack which was my Daddy moniker as well. There are three children, two boys and one girl, just like my family saver for the idea of being triplets with the same birthday. The father died suddenly and tragically while the kids were still young as did mine. So many of the stories touch a still very tender part of my heart that I could write entire blogs each time I tune in to watch the show.

Last week there were again a number of moments that I found to have parallels with my own life which caused me to cry more than once. The moment that has stuck with me the most centered around a conversation with one of the characters and his pastor. It spoke to that moment in the future when we grow very old and are lying under a blanket with the full understanding that our time here on earth is drawing to an end. In those instances virtually every human thinks back on life and remembers the ebb and the flow of existence. What we humans recall invariably centers around the simple times that we shared with people that we love, not so much on what we owned or how much power we amassed. The question we face is whether or not we concentrated enough on the truly important aspects of living or if we were distracted by the glitter of insignificant things.

I suppose that I think about such scenarios more often than I once might have because I see friends and family members dying more often these days. The aging process has placed me in an uncomfortable stage of life when the inevitable has become more the norm. I think of my mother-in-law once lamenting that her social life included far more funerals and visits to hospitals than she wanted to have. I had to admit that she seemed to have to make some death or health visit on a regular basis as she and her peers began to grow a bit more old and fragile. It was hard for her to be continually witnessing sadness.

Now that I am nearing the same age at which my mother-in-law began to lament the losses that she was experiencing I too understand how difficult it is to watch the demise of dear people that I have known for all of my life. I still appear to be in good health, but I know that my ultimate fate will be just as it has been for every person who has ever walked on this earth. At some point I will be lying under a blanket facing the stark reality that I do not have much longer to be part of the grand story of humans. I will no doubt be viewing my own time and thinking of the moments that were the most extraordinary to me. Like all people in that condition I will probably recall the simple things, the times that made me and my loved ones smile.

I suspect that we all get so caught up in the challenges of the world that we become obsessed with worries that divert us from our purposes and the true meanings of life. Our greatest joys ultimately boil down to seemingly trivial remembrances. Like Citizen Kane we recall that moment as a child when a sled that we called Rosebud brought us unmitigated joy. Not all of the possessions in the world compare with the exhilaration of being totally in the moment of fun with people in whom we trust.

When I think back on my seventy years I see my father reading to me, my mother tucking me in at night with a sweet smile and a kiss, my grandmother padding softly on bare feet bearing a mug of hot coffee for me, my grandfather puffing on his pipe and telling me stories, my husband telling me how much he loves me, my children laughing and playing on our camping trips, my grandchildren so earnestly asking for my wisdom, my brothers standing by me in even the hardest times, my friends bringing me fun and laughter and an attentive ear. I think of the wonders that I have seen in my travels like the rainbow arching over the mountains in Glacier National Park or the breathtaking views on Trail Ridge Road. I see the sunset in Grand Canyon and mankind’s ingenuity on the Golden Gate Bridge. I think of each of my students and the earnestness of even the most difficult among them. I see my teachers and the neighbors who sustained me in both good and bad times.

What does not come to mind are the things that so often take up most of our time. The worries of the past seem so trivial. The only legacy that matters is whether or not I have lived generously and fairly. If I have done my best to be a good person, then I will have achieved the greatest possible success in life.

Most of the people who have gone to their heavenly rewards before me have left little of material worth, but the inheritance of glorious memories that they gave me has made me rich. I am stronger because they showed me how to truly live in a world filled with moments that test us and take us to the brink. They have provided me with the kind of memories that sustain me again and again. I am all the better because they taught me how to rely on the goodness that is so bountiful around us. They showed me how to enjoy however much time that I have to its fullest. They were not afraid of lying under a blanket and reviewing their lives nor will I be when it is my turn to look back. As far now I know that much joy lies ahead and I choose to look forward without fear. 

Angelic Creatures

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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Images of President George H.W. Bush’s service dog lying faithfully near the former leader’s casket encapsulated the gentleness and loyalty of the animal often designated as “man’s best friend.” The whole world was taken by the beautiful sight and reminded of just how wonderful dogs can be. I suspect that almost every person has a story of a wonderful pup that brought joy into his/her life. There is something almost spiritual about the relationship between humans and their dogs, a bond that is pure, guileless and angelic. Most of us have experienced the unconditional love derived from having such gentle creatures in our world.

I’ve often told the story of the little white hound that came mysteriously to our front door right after the death of my father. He had no identification and nobody in the neighborhood had ever before seen him, and yet there he was. He came each night to guard our home and then went on his rounds during the day. He was sweet and friendly, seemingly aware that we were frightened and fragile. Of all the houses on the street he somehow chose ours and we felt as though he had been sent from heaven to ease our pain and our fears. We called him Whitey and waited patiently each afternoon for him to return to us secretly hoping that he would choose us to be his permanent family even as our mother warned us that he might one day return to his rightful owners.

We eventually became confident enough to put him in our backyard behind a chain link fence where he appeared to be quite content to stay. Then one morning he was gone never again to return. He had done his magic, taking us through the toughest days of our grief. Our mother told us that it was time for him to move on to someone else who needed him more. He had been our miracle for just enough time to help us to adjust to our new normal. We would never forget him and the joy that he brought us and we would always believe that he was a special gift to us from heaven. 

A few years later we bought another dog, a collie as lovely as Lassie of television fame. His name was Buddy and he was as good and faithful as any creature might be. He became a kind of mascot for the entire street where we lived, watching after not just our family but many of the other children on our block. We loved him like he was a brother and took it for granted that he would always be with us. He carried us through our childhoods and then one day became sick and died. Our trauma was as deep as if he had been a little brother who passed away. 

My husband and I have had two dogs during our time together, both female Golden Retrievers. The first had been named Red before we brought her home. She was a perfect dog in every possible way. Like Buddy she was beloved by all of our neighbors because she had not a mean bone in her body unless she was protecting one of us. When she died our hearts were so broken that we felt unable to go through such an experience ever again. Our daughters convinced us that our grief would be lessened if we brought a new puppy into our home and so we found Scarlet who was as sassy as the famous character from literature who went by that name. She too burrowed into our hearts.

Dogs sense our moods and seem to know exactly how to react to the way we are feeling. If we are sad they snuggle with us and quietly show us how much they care. When we are happy they play with us. If we are sick they watch over us. They warn us of dangers and let us know whom we might trust. Their instincts are attuned to our hearts. They are innocents who may annoy us with their mischief but never betray us.

I do not have a dog now. After Scarlet died we decided to remain without a pet for a time. Instead we enjoy our grand dogs, five cute little creatures who are as different from one another as any brood might be. Cooper, a pug, is the elder among them. He has spent many sleepovers at my house while his family travels. He’s a sweet fellow who loves to cuddle and only barks when he wants food. I’ve grown rather close to him over the years so when he became seriously ill and in need of surgery this past fall I was greatly concerned.

It took him quite a while to recover from his illness and he lost a great deal of weight and his usual personality. I worried incessantly about him but my fears were unfounded because he slowly began to revert to his old ways. When I visited his home last week he greeted me with an insistent bark that told me he wanted me to provide him with his dinner. I felt overjoyed as I filled his bowl and watched him devour the food and then saunter over so that I might scratch his back. We had a moment together that was quite touching. I wanted to spend the rest of the evening petting him and letting him know how much I loved him but I had math tutoring to do with my grandsons, so Cooper and I had to be content with knowing that we really do love each other.

Horses are enchantingly beautiful and cats are mysteriously lovely, but dogs are gifts for our souls. They are the perfect companions who ask for little more than nourishment, a few pats on the rump, and space to run and play. They love and protect us and bring a kind of magic into our lives. It’s little wonder that we notice that God spelled backwards is dog. They are angelic creatures and we are the fortunate recipients of their loving presence. 

My How Things Have Changed

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A young woman who is soon to be married was asking friends to share memories of their weddings. I sat back and listened with interest, noting how much such things had changed in the fifty years since my own nuptials. An enormous amount of time and money goes into the planning of today’s marriage galas. They are often so complex that it’s little wonder that some women turn into bridezillas. Things were so much simpler back in my day.

I actually went to work at Elliot Elementary School on the day of my wedding. It was a seven in the evening affair so I saw no reason to take time from my job. I would have four hours between the end of my work day and the time when I needed to walk down the aisle which seemed to be more than sufficient for getting ready. I don’t recall being especially nervous as I followed my usual routines with the students. In fact I suspect that working kept me centered and less prone to bouts of anxiety.

I had done all of the planning with my mother and together we created an event rather typical of the times. I found a dress on sale that was quite lovely. If I remember right it cost just a bit less than a hundred dollars which still seemed like a fortune to me. I enlisted the florist who did a majority of the weddings at my church and he promised to do a glorious job using white roses for me and red ones for my bridesmaids. He designed a beautiful white creation for the altar and great flowers for the moms and all of the men. I had every confidence that his work would be lovely and he came through with perfection.

My photographer was a member of our church who also did a great deal of work for special occasions. He had even done the photos for my graduation from high school. He was a nice man who understood the monetary restrictions under which me and my mother worked and he gave us an exceptional deal on his services.

I held my reception in the Parish Hall as was customary with the majority of my friends. A lady from the church made the cakes and included punch and coffee in her offer. My mom wanted just a bit more for our guests so we also purchased some lovely tea sandwiches from another neighborhood woman and to our delight they would end up being the hit of the evening.

Mrs. McKenna, the mother of one of my bridesmaids sang in her beautiful soprano voice and a young man who was a master of the trumpet played in cadence with the organist as I walked down the aisle. The music would not have been better if we had hired folks from Houston Grand Opera and the Houston Symphony. Best of all, back then the charge for singers and musicians was minimal.

After working at school on the appointed day I went straight to the hairdresser who washed and styled my hair and then attached my veil so that it looked right. I traveled home with time to spare and gathered my dress, shoes and such. Then my mom and I drove straight to the church. I wasn’t in the habit of wearing makeup back then so I didn’t even think to goop up my face for the occasion. I was soapy clean with only the complexion that nature provided on my beaming countenance.

A nice lady who worked with the photographer helped me and my bridesmaids to put on our dresses. She fluffed my veil and made sure that the train on my gown was well presented. Then I grabbed my brother Michael’s arm and floated down to aisle with my gaze set firmly on my soon to be husband Mike. I still remember all of the smiling faces demonstrating their love as I made that long trip to Mike’s side.

The rest of what happened is enshrouded in a bit of a fog. I was exceptionally pleased with the music, especially Mrs. McKenna’s singing of Ave Maria. The homily was profound with its message of hope in the face of the turmoil of 1968. It had been a tough year for the country and most of us were reeling from assassinations, protests and the war. The priest rightly noted that the exchange of vows until death was a leap of faith in such conditions. His words resonated with me and kept me going whenever difficulties arose over the next five decades.

After mass we convened in the Parish Hall with our guests and greeted them one by one with a traditional receiving line. We cut the cake and took silly photos feeding the sweet morsels to each other, threw the bridal bouquet to the single girls, and then had the usual ceremony with the blue garter that I wore on my leg. I have no idea who caught the cherished items but I hope that they one day found happiness with a loving partner like I did.

We left in a car decorated with tin cans streaming from the rear bumper and lots of shaving cream announcing our nuptials. Our destination was Hobby Airport which was only minutes away. Our cousins Alan and Susan followed us to the plane and the stewardesses were kind enough to allow Susan to come onboard to take photos of us just before we flew away to New Orleans. It would be the first time I had ever flown and I felt like a kid on a rollercoaster as the wheels left the tarmac.

We stayed in the Crescent City for the weekend enjoying accommodations at the Monteleone Hotel which was being remodeled at the time. We ate breakfast at Brennan’s and beignet at Cafe du Monde. We devoured the traditional muffulettas at the Central Grocery and sampled pralines at Aunt Sally’s. Mike’s uncle gave us the gift of an evening at the Blue Room in the Roosevelt Hotel were we enjoyed dinner and a show with a surprisingly wonderful performance by Fran Jeffries, an entertainer who was unknown to me. Of course we sipped on hurricane’s and feasted on gumbo. We fell in love with the patio at Broussard’s where we laughed at a salute to Napoleon. We rode the streetcar to Loyola University where Mike showed me his old dorm room and the places where he spent time as a student. We purchased gifts for our parents in the quaint shops and walked up and down the French Quarter on some of the loveliest autumn days that I have ever seen in New Orleans. When we left on Monday we had under a dollar left in our pockets but memories that would make us smile for all the years to come.

We both went back to school and work immediately. We would very soon be facing some very adult challenges that we somehow overcame in spite of our immaturity and lack of experience. We became a team and found ways to laugh even when we wanted to cry. We’d never forget how much fun we had with our very simple wedding that to me still seems the best of any I’ve ever experienced. We didn’t break the bank or send ourselves into gales of anxiety back then. Instead it was all about our promises to each other and the support of the people that we loved. That was all that we needed, and it was very good.