Letter to the Editor: Roe v. Wade rebuttal

As a point of interest, here is a rebuttal to the Letter to the Editor I wrote which the Eugene Regist-Guard so kindly published on January 21. Personally, I think it misses the point entirely. Here the author takes pains to point out that an abortion was unsuccessfully attempted illegally, so we should keep women safe by legalizing it. My point was that if abortion had been legal, it would also have been successful and thousands of people would today be poorer for it. The real losers of legalized abortion are not the mothers who kill their unborn children, but the lives those children would have otherwise impacted. Sorry, Eileen. By the way, who's looking after the safety of the children you think we should kill?

Abortion must remain legal

Jon Smith wrote a moving letter on Jan. 21.
He is the descendant of a woman who attempted to perform an abortion on herself in 1950. He is, understandably, glad to be alive and in favor of overturning Roe vs. Wade.

I also dislike the idea of abortion. However, it is important to note that in 1950, abortion was illegal and his grandmother tried to induce abortion herself. The attempt failed and she didn't die - two things Smith should be thankful for.

Think, though - the illegality of the action did not prevent her from
attempting an abortion. Indeed, abortion will happen whether legal or not. The best way to prevent abortion is to prevent unwanted pregnancies. This has never been a priority of the U.S. health care system, and there are a lot of unwanted pregnancies.

I prefer to keep women alive and healthy through legalized abortion, rather than irrevocably injured or dead by their own hands. And that's why, until we have a comprehensive sex education policy, with access to counseling and birth control as well as a society where women are truly granted the right to control their own participation in sex, abortion needs to remain legal, accessible and safe for women.

EILEEN NITTLER

Eugene

Blood is thicker

How many of you guys have a younger sister? You may relate well to this story… I have a little sister. She’s three years younger than I am. And we have never been close. I mean, if you got on dictionary.com and looked up ‘sibling rivalry’ you’d see our picture there on the website. As long as I can remember we tortured one another without mercy. And over the years we both scored several major victories; I remember one time, I shot her with my BB gun… Yeah, I paid for that one, believe me. But as much as we picked on one another, as much as I tormented her and as much as she annoyed me, like a thorn in my flesh, she was always my little sister. Mine to torment, and mine to protect.

Have you ever heard it said that big brothers always look out for their younger siblings? Well, let me just tell you that the reason you may have heard that is because it tends to be true. I could pick on my little sister, but you? You need permission.

Illustration: It’s my senior year in high school. My sister is a freshman, and as everyone know, freshmen in high school are at the bottom rung of the social ladder, but my sister, well she was low on the social totem pole even among her own classmates. She didn’t have many friends. And one day, I find out form my mother (because my sister and I were barely on speaking terms) that another girl, an older girl, tried to pick a fight with my sister in the girl’s bathroom, then threatened her when it was broken up by a teacher. Mom asked me to watch out for her for a couple of days.

Honestly, I didn’t know this girl who threatened my sister, but it didn’t matter who she was. What mattered was that she issued the threat. So I passed the information along to several of my friends, and asked them to watch for any signs of trouble. I put my friends on alert because a threat to her was an affront to me. And that’s the last I knew of the situation before the principle called me into his office.

Now, being in the principle’s office was nothing new to me. I was the Student Body President and the principle and I were quite chummy, really. Still, it was startling to see how serious he seemed that day when he called me out of class and asked me to sit down in his office. I could tell that something wasn’t right, but I had no idea what it might be. That’s when he told me to call off my posse. It turned out that although I didn’t know this girl bully who dared threaten my sister, one of my friends did. So, like a good friend will, he gathered the rest of our gang, found this poor unfortunate wannabe tough-girl, and called her out in front of the school security police. It was an impressive display of muscle, I was told; four senior football players threatening this one freshman girl with excessive violence.

It was one of my greatest moments, and I wasn’t even there to see it. Ironically, I was the only one called into the office over the incident. No one was ever hurt, and it might go down as just another amusing tale of family pride except for this one point: none of the guys that forced an end to the threat on my sister’s safety were family. In fact, none of them really had a relationship with my sister at all. They did what they did for me. They understood that in spite of all appearances I valued my little sister and that was enough for them. The reason I was called into the principle’s office that day is simple: I did what I had to do to protect my sister, and I’d do it again.

Years later my dad and I found out that she was being physically abused another in her seemingly endless string of loser boyfriends, and I remember distinctly sitting at the breakfast table with my father and planning the violence we would do to repay the favor. It wasn’t idle talk either. For several years I had to grapple with whether or not I would try to seriously injure, maim, kill, that individual. For literally years I would day-dream behind the wheel of my truck about what I would do if I ever saw that guy strolling across the street in front of me… Forgiveness came, but it took a long time to come.

In fact, I cannot imagine a touchier subject than my family. Nothing would tempt me more quickly to violence than anything happening to them. God forbid it ever does.

Letters to the Editor: Joplin Globe: Abortion

I will pretty much always post any Letter to the Editor I submit anywhere. So, here's another one I gave to the Joplin Globe:

Regarding the political cartoon you published in today's (Saturday, January 28) edition:

In all the years I have been reading newspapers I have never been so offended by
a political cartoon. The cartoon featured a pharmacist being hauled off for being 'fanatical' enough in his religious beliefs to not fill a prescription for an 'emergency contraception' pill... (As if conceiving a child somehow constitutes a medical emergency.)

Shame on you for purchasing it. Shame on you for printing it. Shame on you for helping promote such an ideologically naive and morally repugnant piece of tripe. The simple fact is that pharmacists have morals and abortion is a morally loaded issue. Recent advances in science have turned what was once, generally speaking, a morally neutral and arguably noble (helping people with critical medicinal needs is noble) profession into a minefield for those with strong convictions regarding the sanctity of human life.

Abortion and, increasingly, euthanasia are not topics that most pharmacists were forced to confront when they chose their profession. The implications of their actions were not in conflict with their moral values. That is changing with new advances in medicine, and belittling those who have the integrity to confront such issues as they arise is simply wrong. The only 'fanatics' that need removed from the Medicare system are the anti-intellectuals who would rather continue pell-mell through life without considering the implications of their actions, or giving regard to the people who will effected by their choices.

I advise you in the future to be more cautious about the material you choose to print, lest you prove guilty of such irresponsible behavior yourselves.

NOTE: The Joplin Globe saw fit to run this one on Super Bowl Sunday in the Opinion Page (4B). It was edited only to remove the insinuation that the ad was purchased, and included the caveat at the end. Thank you dear Globe.

Devotional II

Hebrews 12:1
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and the sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.”

Have you ever wondered why we have witnesses in the first place? I mean, if these people are in heaven, isn’t there anything better to watch? Possibly not. I mean, we’re speculating here, but it might be that there just isn’t anything better out there for the saints of God to observe. Think about it, they’re not watching over us because they enjoy looking at sin, or because they want to see us fall down, or because they want to judge us before we get heaven. They watch us because they want us to succeed. They understand what its like to live with Jesus, and they want the same for us. Jesus Himself said, “there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” And I take from that that even in heaven there isn’t much that’s cooler to see than people whose lives are coming nearer to God…

Mercy

I remember a day, long ago, when I was about six years old. I had done something, committed some nameless sin, for probably the thousandth time, and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, or more accurately, my mother’s. I honestly don’t remember what I did to push her over the edge that day, but push her over I did. In fact, I pushed her so hard that she gave me the dreaded “wait ‘til your father gets home” line.

What made that unusual was the fact that I lived in deep fear of my dad, or more to the point, his wrath. Don’t get me wrong, he never abused me or anything like that, but his spankings were legendary. Once, after being spanked for some other heinous six-year-old crime, I cried so hard that he spanked me again! SO, whenever mom threatened to tell dad anything I had done wrong I was pretty good about shaping up. This time however, I had gone too far.

I remember feeling desperate, queasy even, at the thought of dad being the bringer of justice. And I remember the sinking feeling I had when he opened the door to come in after work. And whatever hope I might have had for leniency on the part of my mother vanished almost instantly thereafter as she immediately launched into a diatribe against my rebellious spirit. I think in hindsight that dad too was shocked at the ferocity with which she laid out the argument for my necessary punishment.

So dad did the only thing he could, he called me over, and led me into the next room to receive my just desserts. Mom was still so mad that she stayed out. Not wanting to observe the proceedings, she was content to hear my cries for mercy and the impending screams of pain. Yes, I cried. Yes, I screamed. Yes, I did both before my pants were even down. (No way was this not going to be a bare-bottom spanking.) Then, my father did the most AMAZING thing. He let me go!

First, he made me pull down my pants. Then, he bent me over his right knee. Third, he told me, “Boy, you’d better make me look good…” Finally, he started slapping his left knee as loud as he could. Of course, I was so hysterical by the time that the actual slapping began that it took me several whacks to figure out what was going on, but once I did it was the most amazing feeling of joy I’d ever had. In all my long years of life I’d never been so happy. I had been shown mercy in a way that even a six year old could appreciate, and it changed me forever.

I write this story now at the age of thirty-five. It has been nearly thirty years since it actually happened. Honestly, I don’t recall much of my early childhood, but that memory is emblazoned in my mind such that I shan’t ever forget it. It is mercy, perfect and sweet. And it is my hope in sharing this tale that everyone would one day share a similar story, not of their father on earth sparing a spank one terrible afternoon, but of their Father in heaven sparing them Hell for all eternity.

Devotional I

2 Timothy 2:2
“And what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses, entrust to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.”

You’ve probably seen this verse at the bottom of my e-mails. It is the theme of my life. In it there is a call to listen and a call to teach. It is the call of every Christian. We all have this duty to learn from God, which we do by listening, and to share, which we do by leading.

But how do we do these things, how do I hear God, and who can lead? Great questions, and, fortunately, not that difficult to answer. First, we hear God in His word. Among other ways, we can hear God by reading the Bible, listening to the teachings of those who have studied it, and actively participating in Bible studies. We can also hear God praying to Him, which is also our way of talking back. Second, anyone can lead. Of course, not everyone can lead anything, but you anyone can lead someone. It might be by helping teach a Sunday School class at church, or a Bible study at the BSU, or even just sharing your story with a friend, or something else entirely. The point is that it is intentional, not incidental. It is action, not accident. You are called to listen. Are you listening? You are called to lead. Are you leading? Those are the real questions you need to ask yourself.

Letters to the Editor: Roe v. Wade

Today is my birthday. I have officially made it halfway to 70 now. Having said that, I'd like to add that very nearly didn't make it this far. In fact, I very nearly didn't make it at all. In the following letter, submitted to several newspapers, I explain why:

At the tender age of fourteen a girl in Springfield, Oregon found herself pregnant. It was 1950. Alone and scared, the girl resorted to the only ‘choice’ she had; she attempted an abortion with a coat-hanger in the kitchen of her house. Her mother helped. The attempt failed and she was forced by circumstances to have the unwanted and illegitimate child…

There are those who hear that story and are thankful that we live in a country where abortion is now legal. They are grateful for the right to choose and look on those dark, pre-Roe days with disgust and pity. To them, Roe v. Wade is a blessing. There are, however, also those like myself, who disagree. I am the grandson of that little girl, the son of that failed attempt. Had Roe been in place in 1950, you would not be reading this letter now.

In retrospect, my grandmother turned out to be a pretty good mom, one who cared diligently for the baby girl she thought she didn’t want, and whose life she tried to end. Later that baby girl became my mother, and she has long been a respected member of the community, a pillar of her church and a tireless volunteer for multiple civic organizations. Her life has benefited hundreds, if not thousands of people. The fact that she was nearly killed before she was ever born is a tragedy, not a blessing. And that is why abortion, like murder, should be made illegal in America.

As we approach the anniversary of the Roe v. Wade decision yet again, I am reminded of how precarious life really is. A simple twist of fate would have ended my mother’s life, my life, and the lives of my three children, before any of us was given the choice to live. Roe is not merely a bad law, but a personal affront and an attack on life itself.

So wish me a happy birthday, and weep for the thousands who will this day die before they ever get the chance live.

NOTE: joplindaily.com saw fit to publish the letter on the Opinion page of their website on Saturday, January 14. It will only appear there for 2 weeks though, is my understanding. It was also submitted to the Eugene Register-Guard, which published it on January 21. The Joplin Globe declined to publish it altogether. C'est la vie.

My First Warning

Okay, so I wrote a nice long entry a few moments ago, but because Microsoft SUCKS, I lost it when I tried to use the spellcheck. For that I am frustrated and sorry. Bottom line, Microsoft SUCKS!, and I got a warning (not a ticket) for speeding yesterday. I am stoked about the warning, bummed about the lost entry, and tired. Good night.