Commentary
Monday, February 6,1995 Page 5
All death equals termination
The recent shootings at women’s
health clinics remind me of the plot
of the “Terminator” movies. The
plots revolve around a hit man from
the future traveling back into time
to prevent a child from being born.
The plan fails and the child is born.
It was just a movie, but it made me
think about the different opinions
on abortion, capital punishment
and killing in general.
People don’t always agree on
death, except that it means a life
ends. Unfortunately it isn’t that
simple. Reality dictates that
diverging views, including those
which are held by one person or
group, help make up the world.
It may seem strange that
someone could be against the death
penalty and for abortion, for
example. But then, being for any
kind of death may seem strange to
someone else. Pro-life activism has
me thinking about the deaths of
unborn children and what people do
to try to save them. It may be hard
to understand people with divergent
views who seem to contradict
themselves, but everyone contra
dicts himself at one time or an
other.
The reality of seemingly diver
gent views has recently affected me.
Last week I read about a local
group that hung a noose outside of
a new Planned Parenthood location.
I’ve learned that this group protests
against abortion while protesting
the death penalty at the same time.
Some people think that some
killing is OK and some other
killing is not OK. To some people,
this may be a contradiction. On the
other side of things, it may be a
contradiction to some people that
abortion is legal in a state that has
' capital punishment.
Someone hanging a noose,
which is an unmistakable symbol of
death, outside a Planned Parent
hood location made me think even
E. Hughes Shanks
more about the deaths of unborn
children and what people would do
to prevent them. The measures
people take to save unborn fetuses
from being aborted are becoming
more and more drastic.
In ‘Terminator 2,” the killer
tried to murder the mother before
she became pregnant. I wondered
what would happen if the abortion
clinic killers could somehow avoid
killing women who were planning
to have children and only kill those
who weren’t.
Strictly for the sake of argument,
let’s just say for the moment that
abortion is murder. In the same
context, killing an abortion clinic
employee or volunteer is then, a
“good” thing. Since abortion (for
the sake of argument) is murder,
then killing an abortion clinic
worker is saving lives. It is then
(for the sake of argument) a
justifiable killing.
So (for the sake of argument)
killing someone who aids abortions
prevents other lives from being
ended by abortion. For the sake of
argument, this would be the best
alternative. But someone still has to
die (for the sake of argument).
That’s one dead.
What if a pregnant clinic
employee is killed? Would the
killer (for the sake of argument)
then be doing a good thing or a bad
thing, or both? The question is,
would the killer, on one hand, be
doing a good thing by killing an
abortion clinic worker and, on the
other hand, be committing murder
by killing the unborn fetus? That’s
two dead.
Let’s just say (for the sake of
argument) that the killer is then
given the death penalty and is
executed. That’s three dead. Does
the killing stop there? Not yet,
because there are others who would
continue to kill abortion clinic
workers, and there will always be
the risk of some pregnant clinic
workers being killed.
What if the clinic worker was
pregnant with twins and one of the
fetuses survived? WhaLif (for the
sake of argument) the surviving
fetus grows up wanting to avenge
the deaths of the mother and other
twin fetus? And what if (for the
sake of argument) the surviving
fetus thinks that killing only one
person isn’t good enough? The
surviving twin fetus wants instead
to kill two members of the killers’
family. That’s five dead.
What if the clinic worker is
pregnant with triplets and two of
the fetuses survive. While one of
the fetuses is avenging the deaths of
its sibling and mother, a second
surviving fetus grows up to avenge
the deaths in a different way. What
if this fetus grows up to become a
great prosecuting attorney? What if
this fetus becomes good enough to
guarantee a death sentence for
anyone who kills an abortion clinic '
worker? That’s more dead.
What if the killer gets a life
sentence instead of the death
penalty, and the triplet fetuses are
all saved but grow up disagreeing
about whether or not they should
avenge their mother’s death?
What if one is for the death
penalty, one is not and the other is
undecided?
That’s still one dead.
Shanks is a graduate student and Daily
Nebraskan columnist
Abortion is woman’s decision
I can’t stand it any longer. You
Right to Life people are so hypo
critical, you make me want to puke.
How dare you sit in your comfort
and pass judgment on a woman
who is facing very possibly the
most difficult decision of her life?
The most irritating thing about
pro-lifers is their opinion that even
though they have no knowledge of a
woman’s personal situation, they
feel that they can simply step in and
declare themselves as defenders of
all that is right and good.
Get off it.
What you people preach is your
personal set of beliefs. Nothing
more.
It is not your responsibility to
impose your religious standards
upon those who don’t share the
same view. And who are you to say
that what you preach is the truth or
the correct way to live?
I don’t wish to digress here, but
let me point out that religion, in
and of itself, is a questionable
thing. I grew up in a Southern
Baptist church, so don’t fool
yourself into thinking that my
judgment is uneducated. Quite the
contrary. I know all about God.
I also think that many religions
were formed with shaky founda
tions. The Anglican church was
invented so the king of England
could divorce his childless wife.
The Roman Catholic Church was
organized in order to control the
increasing number of Christ
followers in the Roman Empire.
The Babylonians invented gods
in order to explain what they
couldn’t understand. So did the
Greeks, the most culturally ad
- vanced civilization ever to walk this
planet. What happened to the
mighty Zeus? Was he defeated by
our Christian God, or our Christian
Michael Justice
ancestors?
Even the most sacred Christian
figures are expanded in our minds
through traditions and instruction
to the point of absurdity.
Did you know that the Virgin
Mary was not a virgin? According
to the Jesus Conference — a group
of clergy and religious scholars —
there was a mistake in the transla
tion from Hebrew to Latin (the
word for virgin has a similar
meaning, young girl) and that
created a most celebrated myth. Did
you know that Jesus had six
brothers and sisters, and that he
was a fisherman for many years?
Those were the conclusions of the
Jesus Conference.
Trust me when I say that I truly
hope there is a God watching over
me, because I don’t want to spend
eternity as worm food. However, it
is hard to swallow all that is asked
of us simply on faith. Our religious
icons are really just people and,
through the course of time, they
have been elevated to omnipotent
status due to a human need for
ultimate guidance.
Women should be allowed to
decide, with the aid of their
families, what is best for them.
They are the ones who must spend
the rest of their lives caring for this
child, not the Right to Life people.
I will admit that there is irre
sponsibility in conceiving a child
that is not desired. However, there
is also an irresponsibility in
bringing an unwanted child into the
world.
Crime is an epidemic in this
country. Kids killing each other,
random violence and lack of
discipline. Most of these kids have
a common denominator. They were
not cared for or about. They were
not loved, and they were not
wanted.
About three years ago a very
close friend of mine was faced with
the decision of abortion. It took her
a month to decide what was best for
her and the child in the long run.
Her friends said they would support
her down either road and offered
any advice she needed.
My sister was faced with the
challenge of becoming a single
parent last summer, and she also
needed time to decide what was
best. I told her that it would be hard
work and that there are other
options, but whatever she wanted,
we, her family, would support her.
These two women chose differ
ent paths, and neither was the
wrong choice. My sister is working
hard to support a little girl she gave
birth to in October. My friend was
able to finish school and move on to
a better relationship than the one
she had with the man who got her
pregnant.
For her it was the best choice,
albeit a tough one, and I know that
a day doesn’t go by without her
thinlang about that unborn child.
But what was done was for the
greater good, in her opinion and by
er standards.
She had a choice, and that.
choice should remain available to -
every woman.
J nstice is a junior broadcasting and news
editorial major and a Dally Nebraskan col
umnist.
Auntie’s memories
fade; humor stays
Our conversation begins as it
always does. I come for a visit
and find her sitting in her chair,
looking out the window. I pick
up the small microphone that
dangles from the newest of her
hearing aids and begin the ritual.
“How are you, Auntie?” I ask,
as always.
“Oh, I’m a hundred percent,”
she answers, as always. There is
a pause while we share the echo
of the ironic humor shefhas
carried with her through life.
She says, as always, “Don’t be
in a rush to be 97.” I say, as
always, “Well, all right, Auntie. I
was going to rush, but I won’t.”
I sit down on the edge of the
bed and take photographs out of
my pocketbook. I show them to
her one by one; a rogues’ gallery
of the nieces and nephews that
she calls, happily, her “uglies.”
She smiles at each picture as if
this were the first time she’d
seen it; though in fact I have
brought this stack to her many
times before.
l hen she says in her precise
diction, “Tell me what is going
on in your world?” I lean into the
microphone as if it were a radio
interview and tell my audience
of-one some stories. Where
we’ve been. Where we’re going.
What we’re doing. Stories that I
have told her before.
Sometimes she will tell me, if
I ask, tales I have heard before.
Taira about a childhood in
England, school in America, the
longing for college, about her
parents, her husband, a whole
world that is now in the past.
On a good day she says,
again, “I am just waiting to leave
this planet. I say that philosophi
cally, not sadly.” On a bad day
she asks again, “You cannot help
me exit, can you?”
We became family, Auntie
and I, when she was much
younger, which is to say in her
80s. I married the nephew who is
more than a nephew to her —
her prize, her lifeline — and
began learning.
One day coming back from a
family gathering, displaying my
careful new in-law manners, I
said how pleasant lunch had
been. She looked up and said —
not unkindly, not sharply, but
directly — “I thought it was
boring.” Laughing, I said to
myself, “No shucking, Auntie.
We will be friends.”
, Now we’re losing her. Or
rather, she is disappearing.
What she calls in her own
erudite language “the
diminuation of my faculties” has
continued in countless incre
ments. Ears, eyes, legs. Hearing,
sight, mobility. The fierce
i-:
Ellen Goodman
independence that characterized
her life, the long walks, the daily
bus trip to Burger King until she
was 94. Gone, one by one, like
chits she must turn in before
being allowed through the door.
Her daily newspaper has given
way to a large-type weekly. The
names of relatives have dropped
off her screen, like atrophied
limbs. And then there is the rest
of her memory. She lives in a
narrowing time frame, a day that
is repeated over again without a
sense of yesterday or maybe this
morning.
My husband, who shares her
honesty and her humor, calls her
life “Groundhog Day,” after the
movie about a man destined to
endlessly repeat one day. Yet we
are still her students. In her
presence, we leam about time,
about age, about letting things be
what they are.
I bring the photographs this
Sunday, though she won’t
remember them the next. I am no
longer afraid that this ritual
mocks her memory loss. I judge
my act by her smile.
I know now that the only way
to be with Auntie is on her terms,
in her time zone, in what the Zen
philosophers call the now. So, for
a while, at her side, I am keenly
aware that life is always lived in
the moments. Moment by
moment.
In The New Yorker magazine,
biographer Edmund Morris
wrote recently about visiting
Ronald Reagan, about trying to
make small talk with a man
hollowed out by the crude, cruel
tool of Alzheimer’s. “About six
months ago, he stopped recogniz
ing me,” notes Morris. “Now I
no longer recognize him.”
I hope this won’t happen with
or to Auntie, but it may. The
long ending, with its certain
destination and its uncertain
timetable, is a melancholy affair.
We begin to miss the people they
once were while they still are,
not wholly, here.
But sitting beside Auntie
today, a companion to her leave
taking, I no longer see it as
tragic or unfair. It simply is.
G 1995 The Boston Globe Newspaper
, Company
(-^
The GOB has nothing a^mst
PBS. Its childrens programs
are top-notch. Fcr instance,
Barney the F^,. i mean,
Barney the Dinosaur.. /
Mike Luctovldi
