Sarah Palin hid her pregnancy until the seventh month because she did not want it to interfere with the business of being Governor. She gave a speech about Alaska oil drilling as her amniotic fluid was leaking out. She gave birth one month early, to a Special Needs child, and returned to work three days later.
Now the ambitious career woman/supposed hockey-mom is toting around young Trig (Have you read the names of her children? There ought to be a law against that...) to show what a fabulous parent she is, and using his Downs Syndrome as proof to all those who may have doubted her sincere and religious conviction against abortion.
Her fans call her a "tough lady" and a "great mom."
I disagree and find it somewhat despicable that the woman who chose to have her husband raise their children - when he is not racing across Alaska in a dog sled -is now using her family as a political ploy. No wonder her supposedly abstaining teenage daugther Bristol (Did you catch that name? There ought to be a law...) got pregnant, there are no parents in the house to truly guide her.
Showing posts with label pediatric care. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pediatric care. Show all posts
Monday, September 8, 2008
Sunday, November 11, 2007
G-d's Intentions Gone Awry
Today's English Haaretz reported the following on the financial pages: "More than 70% of Ultra-Orthodox men and about 50% of women are not employed, and most of their families live below the poverty line...since most of the men in the Ultra-Orthodox community dedicate most of their time to religious studies and do not work, the burden of making a living falls on the woman. However, many of these woman cannot find work due to a lack of professional skills and training, as well as the heavy burden of child rearing."
The Ultra-Orthodox community passes on the the cycle of poverty to the next generation, by failing to provide their sons with a secular education past the eighth grade, and by perpetuating the role of the girl as future young mother, sole provider, and martyr to the cause. Furthermore, this community isolates themselves with their refusal to serve in the army in the country in which they live and take advantage of financially.
When G-d said, "Be fruitful and multiply, " the Supreme Being did not intend this scenario: One million and a half children living below the poverty line, emotionally and physically neglected, arrogantly taught that they are morally superior, thus promoting intolerance, hatred and civil war.
I am reading a book now called "God, A Biography" written by Jack Miles. Mr. Miles - a religious man who believes that the Old Testament is divinely inspired - uses the literal text of the Tanach (Hebrew Bible) to create a profile of G-d, as the Supreme Being evolves with the evolution of man into various nations. By Miles' account, G-d starts out as the Creator of Mankind, then becomes the Terminator. He begins by giving Man blessings and complete freedom ("in his own image"), has a brief run of trying to take back some of the privileges (you can't get the toothpaste back into the tube), and in the end, is co-opted by Man for their own manipulative purposes.
This view certainly would disturb the faithful, and yet, the text supports it. G-d creates Man without an apparent plan for leadership or discipline, looses his temper frequently, impulsively over-reacting with his punishments and then immediately falling into regret and backtracking. For many cultures he becomes a theoretical stick, the Ultimate Monster in the Closet, waved at the nation as a threat, or used to advance personal power.
There must be a Higher Power in the Universe, and there must be a larger plan; if we were not handed a template, I believe that Man would have to invent the idea, to make sense of the chaos of daily life. But for anyone to use ritual and religion to encourage war, terror, division and sloth, shame on humanity. And shame on our errant Prime Minister and the Israeli government for giving into the religious parties' political blackmail.
The Ultra-Orthodox community passes on the the cycle of poverty to the next generation, by failing to provide their sons with a secular education past the eighth grade, and by perpetuating the role of the girl as future young mother, sole provider, and martyr to the cause. Furthermore, this community isolates themselves with their refusal to serve in the army in the country in which they live and take advantage of financially.
When G-d said, "Be fruitful and multiply, " the Supreme Being did not intend this scenario: One million and a half children living below the poverty line, emotionally and physically neglected, arrogantly taught that they are morally superior, thus promoting intolerance, hatred and civil war.
I am reading a book now called "God, A Biography" written by Jack Miles. Mr. Miles - a religious man who believes that the Old Testament is divinely inspired - uses the literal text of the Tanach (Hebrew Bible) to create a profile of G-d, as the Supreme Being evolves with the evolution of man into various nations. By Miles' account, G-d starts out as the Creator of Mankind, then becomes the Terminator. He begins by giving Man blessings and complete freedom ("in his own image"), has a brief run of trying to take back some of the privileges (you can't get the toothpaste back into the tube), and in the end, is co-opted by Man for their own manipulative purposes.
This view certainly would disturb the faithful, and yet, the text supports it. G-d creates Man without an apparent plan for leadership or discipline, looses his temper frequently, impulsively over-reacting with his punishments and then immediately falling into regret and backtracking. For many cultures he becomes a theoretical stick, the Ultimate Monster in the Closet, waved at the nation as a threat, or used to advance personal power.
There must be a Higher Power in the Universe, and there must be a larger plan; if we were not handed a template, I believe that Man would have to invent the idea, to make sense of the chaos of daily life. But for anyone to use ritual and religion to encourage war, terror, division and sloth, shame on humanity. And shame on our errant Prime Minister and the Israeli government for giving into the religious parties' political blackmail.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
I Didn't Know that Cats are Gay
Sarel needed to go to the vet yesterday, for his annual check up and vaccinations.* The day did not begin well, with heavy grey rain clouds threatening from the early morning; I could only imagine myself walking through the streets of Jerusalem with a cat cage and a six and a half kilo cat, both of us soaking wet. I was also nervous because they had recently built a new road near the veterinary office, and I was unsure if there would be parking or direct access.
I had left the carrying-cage out in the salon for an entire day, so it would sit in the house and he could explore it, and ultimately find its presence non-threatening. My plan only partially worked, a five minute battle ensued to get Sarel into the cage when the time came to leave the house. On the way to the doctor's visit, he complained loudly, but in a pacifist Gandhi-like manner.
When we arrived, the vet and his assistants gave me a wary smile. Turns out they had thought that Harry (Sarel's extremely difficult and scary older brother) was meant to have his appointment today, and according to Dr. Tzvi, they spent several hours preparing themselves for the trauma. When I heard this confession, I could only laugh, and then tried to defend Harry, saying that at home he is gentle and affectionate; he has been brought up with love since he was a kitten, and has never lived on the street. Apparently some cats are "quite simply, little bastards." (Dr. Tzvi's words, not mine.)
Sarel sat quietly cowering and in contrast to his brother, allowed the vet to perform all the tests, including picking him up high in the air, checking his rather large vampire teeth, and giving him the vaccine. You could feel the tension easing all over the office, there would be no antiseptic or stitches for humans today.
I told Dr. Tzvi and his assistant an amazing story that attests to the kindness of heart of Sarel, and in my opinion, the ability of all creatures to overcome their basic programming. I explained that Sarel himself had been a rescue cat, and had lived on the street for close to a year before I found him (run over by a car) and adopted him. In the last year, Sarel adopted a beautiful cream colored kitten, Gingi, who is now a fully grown, healthy street cat, part of our extended family. Gingi allows me to pet him, and likes to spend some quality time with me before he eats the food I have brought him.
Sarel (male cat, neutered) adopted Gingi (male cat, large assets). Gingi has recently adopted a long hair gray and white kitten whom I have called Rocky, because his/her nose looks like it was in one too many brawls. Gingi has given Rocky a home with him, and every morning makes sure that everyone is fed together. The obvious nurturing comes from an unknown place in the male feline psyche, I cannot imagine a territorial animal who thrives on survival instincts displaying this kind of generosity, and yet, it happens every day before my eyes.
My theory supposes that character traits can be learned, and that a cycle of giving and generosity will be passed on through the next generations of street cats in my area. Their behaviour is an inspiration to me, it means that humans can undo negative patterns and learn new tricks. The assistant exclaimed, "Wow, a phenomenon of gay cats!" (Idiot!) Dr. Tzvi appreciated the uniqueness of the situation, and suggested that I had taught them the act of charity.
As a bonus, Sarel got a new bright red collar, he will be the envy on all his friends.
In the drive home, my back hurting from carrying a cat and his cage up the hills of Jerusalem to my parking space, I tried to console Sarel, who was still shaking with fear. I sang to him, I recited the poem Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, most of which I know by heart: " O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy." In fact I noticed that Sarel was not chorteling, but rather whimpering and retreating.
No one likes going to the doctor. So I gave him a large tablespoon of tuna when we got home. And I took a nice shot of single malt whiskey.
*Note: While I object to many of the vaccines and shots given to humans, my stand changes vis a vis felines. They play outside in Lord knows what, they get into fights over territory, and in that case, better safe than sorry.
I had left the carrying-cage out in the salon for an entire day, so it would sit in the house and he could explore it, and ultimately find its presence non-threatening. My plan only partially worked, a five minute battle ensued to get Sarel into the cage when the time came to leave the house. On the way to the doctor's visit, he complained loudly, but in a pacifist Gandhi-like manner.
When we arrived, the vet and his assistants gave me a wary smile. Turns out they had thought that Harry (Sarel's extremely difficult and scary older brother) was meant to have his appointment today, and according to Dr. Tzvi, they spent several hours preparing themselves for the trauma. When I heard this confession, I could only laugh, and then tried to defend Harry, saying that at home he is gentle and affectionate; he has been brought up with love since he was a kitten, and has never lived on the street. Apparently some cats are "quite simply, little bastards." (Dr. Tzvi's words, not mine.)
Sarel sat quietly cowering and in contrast to his brother, allowed the vet to perform all the tests, including picking him up high in the air, checking his rather large vampire teeth, and giving him the vaccine. You could feel the tension easing all over the office, there would be no antiseptic or stitches for humans today.
I told Dr. Tzvi and his assistant an amazing story that attests to the kindness of heart of Sarel, and in my opinion, the ability of all creatures to overcome their basic programming. I explained that Sarel himself had been a rescue cat, and had lived on the street for close to a year before I found him (run over by a car) and adopted him. In the last year, Sarel adopted a beautiful cream colored kitten, Gingi, who is now a fully grown, healthy street cat, part of our extended family. Gingi allows me to pet him, and likes to spend some quality time with me before he eats the food I have brought him.
Sarel (male cat, neutered) adopted Gingi (male cat, large assets). Gingi has recently adopted a long hair gray and white kitten whom I have called Rocky, because his/her nose looks like it was in one too many brawls. Gingi has given Rocky a home with him, and every morning makes sure that everyone is fed together. The obvious nurturing comes from an unknown place in the male feline psyche, I cannot imagine a territorial animal who thrives on survival instincts displaying this kind of generosity, and yet, it happens every day before my eyes.
My theory supposes that character traits can be learned, and that a cycle of giving and generosity will be passed on through the next generations of street cats in my area. Their behaviour is an inspiration to me, it means that humans can undo negative patterns and learn new tricks. The assistant exclaimed, "Wow, a phenomenon of gay cats!" (Idiot!) Dr. Tzvi appreciated the uniqueness of the situation, and suggested that I had taught them the act of charity.
As a bonus, Sarel got a new bright red collar, he will be the envy on all his friends.
In the drive home, my back hurting from carrying a cat and his cage up the hills of Jerusalem to my parking space, I tried to console Sarel, who was still shaking with fear. I sang to him, I recited the poem Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, most of which I know by heart: " O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy." In fact I noticed that Sarel was not chorteling, but rather whimpering and retreating.
No one likes going to the doctor. So I gave him a large tablespoon of tuna when we got home. And I took a nice shot of single malt whiskey.
*Note: While I object to many of the vaccines and shots given to humans, my stand changes vis a vis felines. They play outside in Lord knows what, they get into fights over territory, and in that case, better safe than sorry.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Professor Dumbledore, Will You Please Come Out of the Closet
On behalf of Harry Potter, an orphan who has no parents to speak in his defence, I would like to report his beloved mentor, Professor Albus Dumbledore, for molestation. That's right, now that the esteemed teacher and fighter of evil has been outed, one cannot help but wonder what Harry Potter and he were really doing in all those late night study sessions. For that matter, didn't Professor Snape also spend a lot of one-on-one time with Harry in detention?
Of course, Professor Dumbledore is deceased, and lives only in the portraits on the wall, but dammit, if the various magical persons in all the paintings at Hogworts can interact in real time with students and each other, they can be jailed post mortem.
Why is it that magic must be associated with deviance of a sort? What did JK Rowling gain by declaring that Dumbledore prefers the Wizard over the Witch?
Much like the hullabaloo over the Narnia series by C.S. Lewis, literature makes statements and passes along morality on multiple levels. As a Jewish girl reading The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, the Christian references flew way over my head, and I simply enjoyed the series as a tale about adventurous children in a parallel universe who receive the protection of a kindly magical lion. Aslan doesn't even sound like Jesus...
The television show Sesame Street began when I was one year old, and Big Bird's friend Mr. Snuffleuppagus was conceived initially as a real friend of Big Bird's, who just happened to disappear when any human adult showed up on the scene. (Much like Clark Kent and Superman, they are never around at the same time, hmmm...) In time, the show revealed the melancholy Woolly Mammoth to the remaining residents of Sesame Street; they feared that a child who had been abused or bullied would not approach adults for help, because he/she believed that adults are either stupid, or would not believe their story.
This of course did not go far enough for the liberal "gay" 90's, when speculation ran rampant regarding Bert and Ernie's sexual orientation. I would like to point out that they were roommates, sharing a one-bedroom flat in a very expensive New York real estate market, and that they slept in separate beds. Not once in my growing up and watching the show did I consider another more insidious insinuation.
In Israel, they forgo any subtlety, and the two Ernie and Bert-like puppets who appear in the ads for the Electric Company are known to be gay; one is the "female" and the other is the "male." The verbal pun on an electrical socket works better in Hebrew, but you get the idea.
Perhaps, Rowling created a gay character in the importance of Dumbledore to give courage to children reading her books, children who may have questions about their sexuality but may be afraid to announce it or discuss it with adults. In that case, make Neville gay, he emerged heroic at the end of book seven and in fact in the future, teaches at Hogwarts. Hooray for macho gay Neville and kudos to his Alma mater for have a non-discriminatory hiring policy.
This Dumbledore incident raises the same concerns for me as the Gay Pride Parade in Jerusalem. Call me a prude, but I believe that every person is entitled to his and her privacy as regards choices of intimacy. I don't need to see a heterosexual couple having sex in their car or snogging at a street corner, and the same applies for me with homosexuals, bisexuals and the magical folk. (Being politically correct, I must immediately apologize to any other active sexual group for not mentioning you, I actually don't want to watch you in the bedroom either.)
What happens in the bedroom should stay in the bedroom, across the board.
When the gay and lesbian community feels the need to have a parade in Jerusalem, specifically after they have marched in several other cities in Israel, it tells me that they themselves are not comfortable enough in their own skin and their own status. They must be "in the face" of the rest of the presumed intolerant population, in a city that is holy to all religions. Because if there is a parade that divides the city, and starts civil and religious war, people will have to notice them.
As a Jewish woman, I also don't have a great need to attend a synagogue that is egalitarian, simply because it gives women a larger role in the Orthodox ritual. I am content with my personal relationship with G-d, and I don't need the boys' club to let me in to feel better about myself spiritually, or to prove something.
We are all so busy trying to be "tolerant" and "inclusive", that we lose our internal truths. Instead of pulling over a suspicious 25 year old Muslim male in the airport, the 86 year old woman bringing donuts to her grandchildren is stripped-searched, because the cream inside the pastry might be an explosive. International travel may not be any safer, but at lease we did not offend the Arab terrorist.
Of course, Professor Dumbledore is deceased, and lives only in the portraits on the wall, but dammit, if the various magical persons in all the paintings at Hogworts can interact in real time with students and each other, they can be jailed post mortem.
Why is it that magic must be associated with deviance of a sort? What did JK Rowling gain by declaring that Dumbledore prefers the Wizard over the Witch?
Much like the hullabaloo over the Narnia series by C.S. Lewis, literature makes statements and passes along morality on multiple levels. As a Jewish girl reading The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, the Christian references flew way over my head, and I simply enjoyed the series as a tale about adventurous children in a parallel universe who receive the protection of a kindly magical lion. Aslan doesn't even sound like Jesus...
The television show Sesame Street began when I was one year old, and Big Bird's friend Mr. Snuffleuppagus was conceived initially as a real friend of Big Bird's, who just happened to disappear when any human adult showed up on the scene. (Much like Clark Kent and Superman, they are never around at the same time, hmmm...) In time, the show revealed the melancholy Woolly Mammoth to the remaining residents of Sesame Street; they feared that a child who had been abused or bullied would not approach adults for help, because he/she believed that adults are either stupid, or would not believe their story.
This of course did not go far enough for the liberal "gay" 90's, when speculation ran rampant regarding Bert and Ernie's sexual orientation. I would like to point out that they were roommates, sharing a one-bedroom flat in a very expensive New York real estate market, and that they slept in separate beds. Not once in my growing up and watching the show did I consider another more insidious insinuation.
In Israel, they forgo any subtlety, and the two Ernie and Bert-like puppets who appear in the ads for the Electric Company are known to be gay; one is the "female" and the other is the "male." The verbal pun on an electrical socket works better in Hebrew, but you get the idea.
Perhaps, Rowling created a gay character in the importance of Dumbledore to give courage to children reading her books, children who may have questions about their sexuality but may be afraid to announce it or discuss it with adults. In that case, make Neville gay, he emerged heroic at the end of book seven and in fact in the future, teaches at Hogwarts. Hooray for macho gay Neville and kudos to his Alma mater for have a non-discriminatory hiring policy.
This Dumbledore incident raises the same concerns for me as the Gay Pride Parade in Jerusalem. Call me a prude, but I believe that every person is entitled to his and her privacy as regards choices of intimacy. I don't need to see a heterosexual couple having sex in their car or snogging at a street corner, and the same applies for me with homosexuals, bisexuals and the magical folk. (Being politically correct, I must immediately apologize to any other active sexual group for not mentioning you, I actually don't want to watch you in the bedroom either.)
What happens in the bedroom should stay in the bedroom, across the board.
When the gay and lesbian community feels the need to have a parade in Jerusalem, specifically after they have marched in several other cities in Israel, it tells me that they themselves are not comfortable enough in their own skin and their own status. They must be "in the face" of the rest of the presumed intolerant population, in a city that is holy to all religions. Because if there is a parade that divides the city, and starts civil and religious war, people will have to notice them.
As a Jewish woman, I also don't have a great need to attend a synagogue that is egalitarian, simply because it gives women a larger role in the Orthodox ritual. I am content with my personal relationship with G-d, and I don't need the boys' club to let me in to feel better about myself spiritually, or to prove something.
We are all so busy trying to be "tolerant" and "inclusive", that we lose our internal truths. Instead of pulling over a suspicious 25 year old Muslim male in the airport, the 86 year old woman bringing donuts to her grandchildren is stripped-searched, because the cream inside the pastry might be an explosive. International travel may not be any safer, but at lease we did not offend the Arab terrorist.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Relative Suffering
Hobbling around on my ankle yesterday, I bumped into the woman who owns my Pilates studio, and she asked me how I am feeling and I answered "So-so." She knew, because we had discussed it last week, that I received a Grade II Ankle Sprain, and yet I got a five minute lecture about the power of positive thinking, that what I give out is what I get back (some version of the Law of Attraction), and that I need to start being a "half glass full" kind of person.
I have never been a fan of the "children are starving in Africa"/Clean Plate Club speech, nor do I jump for joy when someone tries to comfort me at a time of severe stress with the "G-d only gives us what we can handle" speech. I do believe a la Chaos Theory that there is a larger plan, and that my smallest view of the world cannot possibly take into account all the factors that are in play in a particular situation, and its ripple effect. But let me tell you that as someone who can count on one hand the number of times in my life when I have had a serious injury, this ankle sprain has given me pause for thought.
Since my injury, I have to think every time I get up from a chair, or see a flight of stairs. I had to ask a friend to do my supermarket shopping, because I could not imagine spending more than five minutes on my feet, wandering through a store. I cannot attend another friend's wedding tonight, because no one has room in their car and I am unable to drive. Needless to say, I have not participated in swimming or any substantial movement for the last four days.
I have always had issue with aging and crotchety old people, I would only like to live to 120 if I can do so in well-ness, that I would be able to basically take care of myself and enjoy an active lifestyle. I have also always had issue with asking for help, and if this ankle injury has taught me anything, it has shown me not only that I can ask for the assistance, but that my friends will reply with warmth.
Now we get to play the Relative Suffering game: last week, the same week as my fall, a group of teenagers went out on a hiking trip in the middle of the desert at the heat of the day, with no water. One of them died during the hike, another died within the first 24 hours after the rescue, and several others are in critical condition. In response, their ultra-Orthodox teachers issued a press release stating that their students' physical condition does not concern them, but rather their spiritual health; ultra-Orthodox students on vacation are now advised not to travel around the country because they may be exposed to a "poisonous" secular element. (The article was accompanied by a photo of two ultra-Orthodox men wearing thong bikinis and frolicking in the water, with their guts hanging over. Too much information, and not quite the modesty that their teachers would have preferred.)
Last week, the same week I was tested by my helplessness, a man left his nine month old child in the car, while he went into the car garage, only went back to check on his child when he got a call from his wife; and found his baby dehydrated, with second and third degree burns, dead. The paper, in reporting the funeral of this child, said that the mother complained bitterly, and the father was the only person not crying among the 250 plus attendees of the funeral. I don't expect that marriage to last past the shiva.
So I don't get to complain about my ankle, there are far worse tragedies in my little country, and I should be grateful to be alive. G-d only gives us what we can handle, and what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger; the cliches we invent to make us feel better.
The police have said that they will wait to question the father for negligent homicide until after the week of mourning has concluded, that the family has "suffered enough" with the loss of their child. In this modern life of bureaucracy, you need to take classes and tests for almost everything- gun permits, driver's license, Sororities, professional credentials- yet, there are no tests for becoming a parent, the most difficult and responsible and significant job for any lifetime. Any child after the age of 12 can have sexual relations and get pregnant, bring a child into the world and then, oops, leave it in car to die a horrible drawn out death.
This is not the first story I have heard of parents forgetting their young children in a car, or at home by themselves, leading to their death, nor will it be the last, unfortunately. I have seen people more concerned about their dog, opening a window for them when they leave them in a vehicle.
Our children must come first.
I have never been a fan of the "children are starving in Africa"/Clean Plate Club speech, nor do I jump for joy when someone tries to comfort me at a time of severe stress with the "G-d only gives us what we can handle" speech. I do believe a la Chaos Theory that there is a larger plan, and that my smallest view of the world cannot possibly take into account all the factors that are in play in a particular situation, and its ripple effect. But let me tell you that as someone who can count on one hand the number of times in my life when I have had a serious injury, this ankle sprain has given me pause for thought.
Since my injury, I have to think every time I get up from a chair, or see a flight of stairs. I had to ask a friend to do my supermarket shopping, because I could not imagine spending more than five minutes on my feet, wandering through a store. I cannot attend another friend's wedding tonight, because no one has room in their car and I am unable to drive. Needless to say, I have not participated in swimming or any substantial movement for the last four days.
I have always had issue with aging and crotchety old people, I would only like to live to 120 if I can do so in well-ness, that I would be able to basically take care of myself and enjoy an active lifestyle. I have also always had issue with asking for help, and if this ankle injury has taught me anything, it has shown me not only that I can ask for the assistance, but that my friends will reply with warmth.
Now we get to play the Relative Suffering game: last week, the same week as my fall, a group of teenagers went out on a hiking trip in the middle of the desert at the heat of the day, with no water. One of them died during the hike, another died within the first 24 hours after the rescue, and several others are in critical condition. In response, their ultra-Orthodox teachers issued a press release stating that their students' physical condition does not concern them, but rather their spiritual health; ultra-Orthodox students on vacation are now advised not to travel around the country because they may be exposed to a "poisonous" secular element. (The article was accompanied by a photo of two ultra-Orthodox men wearing thong bikinis and frolicking in the water, with their guts hanging over. Too much information, and not quite the modesty that their teachers would have preferred.)
Last week, the same week I was tested by my helplessness, a man left his nine month old child in the car, while he went into the car garage, only went back to check on his child when he got a call from his wife; and found his baby dehydrated, with second and third degree burns, dead. The paper, in reporting the funeral of this child, said that the mother complained bitterly, and the father was the only person not crying among the 250 plus attendees of the funeral. I don't expect that marriage to last past the shiva.
So I don't get to complain about my ankle, there are far worse tragedies in my little country, and I should be grateful to be alive. G-d only gives us what we can handle, and what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger; the cliches we invent to make us feel better.
The police have said that they will wait to question the father for negligent homicide until after the week of mourning has concluded, that the family has "suffered enough" with the loss of their child. In this modern life of bureaucracy, you need to take classes and tests for almost everything- gun permits, driver's license, Sororities, professional credentials- yet, there are no tests for becoming a parent, the most difficult and responsible and significant job for any lifetime. Any child after the age of 12 can have sexual relations and get pregnant, bring a child into the world and then, oops, leave it in car to die a horrible drawn out death.
This is not the first story I have heard of parents forgetting their young children in a car, or at home by themselves, leading to their death, nor will it be the last, unfortunately. I have seen people more concerned about their dog, opening a window for them when they leave them in a vehicle.
Our children must come first.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
