Down Syndrome, Comments, and Fellini

Allison Piepmeier, a brilliant academic writer friend of mine, and the mother of the incomparable Maybelle, had a piece published in the New York Times'  Motherlode column a couple of days ago. Allison wrote the piece as a response to the recent law passed in North Dakota outlawing abortion for fetal conditions such as Down Syndrome. I won't review what she said, as the piece is short, and I'd urge you to read it yourself, but what has stuck with me in particular all day long are the more than 200 comments that I made the mistake of skimming through after reading Allison's intelligent words. Filled with vitriol -- on both sides of the abortion issue -- they are, with few exceptions, some of the most ignorant and upsetting opinions and viewpoints that I've read in a long, long while. They are the stuff of depression, the stuff that drives some of us in the disability world to want to retreat into caves, overwhelmed at the prospect that no matter how hard we try, we may not ever fully engage people into valuing the lives of people with disabilities. Full inclusion might never happen, our children and fellow citizens might continue to be commodities, burdens that inhibit productive life, argued over in the marketplace.

I'll say here that I am particularly repelled by Dakotan lawmakers who have passed some of the most draconian laws against women's reproductive rights in the country, but I am also disturbed by those in the disability community who champion the law as, somehow, a victory for the most vulnerable. I have been asked the infamous question about Sophie and abortion -- whether I would abort her if I'd known what would happen. To this question, I will only answer that it's impossible. It's impossible for me to answer this question. I am who I am because of my daughter's strange journey on this planet, and I am who I am, living questions, not answers.

And now let me retreat to my cave. I'll be watching this:

The Boy in the Moon

The beautiful memoir The Boy in the Moon, by Ian Brown, has won a place in the New York Times' annual 10 Best Books of 2011. I wrote about the book's effect on my life here, and I've also had the honor of a small exchange with the great writer himself. I am so happy that a small book of great literary import about a disabled child and his family has made its way to such an exclusive list.

Bravo, Mr. Brown! Thank you for your words, for their resonant power.

It's like a breath of fresh air, a clear stream and other platitudes, but

Yosemite, 2011

I am grateful to read Nicholas Kristof's editorial in yesterday's New York Times titled Are We Getting Nicer?

So let me be contrary and offer a reason to be grateful this Thanksgiving. Despite the gloomy mood, the historical backdrop is stunning progress in human decency over recent centuries.

-- Nicholas Kristof

Read the rest here.

Have another drink

via Gojee.com

I'm having a salty dog.

Remember last week's post? I wrote about Gail Collins and her brilliantly funny posts about the current political campaigns in The New York Times. I mentioned that it's a fun game to find the sentence in her column about Mitt Romney tying his dog to the top of the station wagon for a family trip to Canada and marvel at how she does it. Then make yourself a drink.

Play here.


Cheers!

(and if you live in the southern California area and want a couple of passes to the upcoming college basketball tournament in Anaheim, I'm giving them away here)

Gail

via Drudge

From here on out, I'm going to read Gail Collins and participate in the game that I read about somewhere on the internets -- it's sort of like a drinking game without the drinks, a game for the literary nerd, perhaps, or, at the very least, the word nerd.

Basically, you read her very incisive, very funny yet not snarky (think Maureen Dowd when you think snark) columns in the The New York Times and wait for/marvel at her sneaking in a sentence about Mitt Romney and the dog he tied to the roof to travel to Canada. No matter what she's writing about, she manages to include this interesting, it's-a-big-world and everyone is weird and has their own literal baggage fact.

It's the Kevin Bacon game for the election year. Maybe it should be a drinking game -- to help us get through it.

Here's today's column.

Since it's only 8:06 am here in threatening-rain Los Angeles, I'm off to mix myself a mimosa with the oranges in the backyard.

In lieu of an inspired post,

I'll direct you to an article in The New York Times that strikes fear into the heart of those of us who parent and love a person with developmental disabilities.

Steel yourself.

Sunday Musings

I'm hard put to post anything at all these days as I'm barely afloat what with starting up a cake business, reviewing grants for the federal government, wrapping up a children's healthcare project, taking care of children with chicken pox and seizure disorders and newly navigating teendom. Throw in marriage, visits from family, impending spring break and April is poetry month, well, there is no end to what I could write about, but I don't write about.

Here's a quote from an editorial that one of my favorite columnists, Nicholas Kristoff wrote in today's New York Times:

 Isn’t it better to inconsistently save some lives than to consistently save none?


Kristof is speaking about the current conflict in Libya and what some people call a humanitarian response to the American intervention there and others deem another act of aggression. I don't have clear thoughts about this -- partly due to ignorance and mainly due to a general fatigue at matters outside of my immediate reach. The older I get, the more I become or keen toward pacifism, toward non-violence, but wonder, too, how one can possibly be engaged in the world and not recognize brutality and meet it with force.


The Dalai Lama says The principle of nonviolence should be practiced everywhere. This cannot be achieved simply by sitting here and praying. It means work and effort, and yet more effort.


This might be what I'll muse about as I cheer for my son at his 8:30 am on a Sunday baseball game. If you have any further thoughts, let me know, because I'll be back soon and would love to read them.