DuBose: Pro-lifers put lives in danger with their methods
My son recently turned 12. Noah’s enjoying the fact that I now allow him to sit in the front seat of the car and, frankly, so am I.
I admit to feeling a bit put-out that my purse always gets displaced onto the floor, but the upside? It’s handy having a sidekick in the front seat. See, Noah’s so happy about his new proximity to the car radio that he doesn’t object when I ask him to take dictation. I brainstorm my grocery list, column ideas and, recently, my list of things to do before our vacation. I rather enjoy having a right-hand man, and appreciate that he’s not bickering with Holly in the backseat.
Last Friday, however, the kids and I were headed out to buy new sneakers – a benign mission if ever there was one – when I found myself longing for the bickering. I was heading west on Fabyan Parkway toward the intersection at Randall Road, dictating some ideas for my next column – and wondering if I still had that coupon for the shoe store in my purse – when my eyes were diverted from the road. Several people, assembled in the late afternoon sun, bore enormous placards so compelling and distracting that I nearly rear-ended the car in front of mine.
The placards bore enormous, graphic, color photographs apparently portraying post-abortion fetuses.
You get the picture. We were stuck at a red light, so we “got the picture,” too – for what seemed an eternity.
I winced as my right-hand-man took it all in. He studied the photographs and silently read their captions, which included the dates of the abortions depicted in each photograph.
I glanced in my rearview mirror. Holly seemed unfazed, but I wondered. And wondered what to say.
“Hmm,” Noah said.
“Wow,” I whispered, as I considered where to begin.
Noah and I have had “the talk” and many others, and even briefly discussed abortion before. But this; this was different. Pictures are different. They’re not necessarily a bad thing, but isn’t there a better time and place for our children to view them and to learn the facts of life about this complex issue?
It struck me, then, just how suddenly and violently the illusory mommy cocoon – which we create to protect our children – can crack.
I was instantly reminded of another time I felt this way. Two years ago during dinner, my daughter, Holly, a passionate animal lover, suddenly asked about the pork chops.
“What are they?” she wondered.
I’ll never forget how, upon learning that she was eating a pig, her chewing all but stopped as she pondered this new information. She decided to become a vegetarian at that very moment, a decision I supported – and it stuck for maybe 10 minutes.
It’s difficult to watch your children make surreal, horrifying discoveries, no matter how germane these discoveries are to the process of growing up.
“Noah, Holly and the pork chops. Write that down,” I muttered, as the light finally changed. “It’ll jog my memory later.”
“Got it,” he replied.
Whatever column I’d been planning to pen suddenly seemed unimportant.
I doubt anyone would dispute the fact that what’s depicted in the pro-life pictures is horrible. Whether abortion should be legal or not is another matter. Whether protesters should be allowed to wave graphic, disturbing images at the corner of a busy intersection is another matter, too.
The end of innocence thing I’m lamenting is one thing, but it’s not just sadness I feel.
I’m angry.
My friend, Jen Bushman, made a great point when we discussed this at my kitchen table the other night.
She reminded me that movies are rated depending on the level of graphic content advisable for children to view. So what entitles abortion protesters to publically display disturbing images in a place frequented by children, in a place as potentially hazardous to children (and others) as a busy intersection?
I absolutely support – unequivocally – their First Amendment right to freely express their beliefs. But their methods? That’s another matter.
In their defense, Deputy Chief James Dixon of the Batavia Police Department advised me that the protesters voluntarily posted warning signs in the area, ostensibly designed to give parents and others an opportunity to consider a detour.
This was news to me. In my opinion, they were either too little or too late to be useful. Obviously, in my case, they were missed altogether. If protecting life is really their mission, I urge those abortion protesters to reconsider their methods. I also urge those in a position to initiate improvements that support public safety to carefully consider this conundrum.
What might have happened to my children – and others – had I not managed to slam on the brakes in time to avoid a collision?
• Jennifer DuBose is a contributor for the Kane County Chronicle. She lives in Batavia with her husband, Todd, and their two children, Noah, 12, and Holly, 9. She can be reached at jennifer dubose@msn.com.
