Having Lost the Right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, Tell Me, How Do You Feel?

You can believe that abortion is wrong and still be offended by the Court's decision to overturn Roe v. Wade.

Let's just say, for the sake of argument, that abortion is wrong and every pregnancy should be carried to term to protect the life of an unborn child. 

If overturning Roe v. Wade were about saving the lives of unborn children, then it would stand to follow that Republicans would champion the welfare of children. 

• Republicans would not allow immigrant children to be separated from their parents, nor fail to set up systems for reuniting those families in the future. 
• Republicans would not tolerate warehousing children in cages in detention centers. 

If Republicans cared about all children, then conservative policies would protect the lives of Black children by insisting on quick and thorough investigations by disinterested parties in every case when a black child age 18 or younger is shot and killed by police.

• But we know that Republican policies do not protect children. They have separated children from their parents, they have funneled children into retention centers or foster care, and they have failed to keep track of those children for the purpose of reuniting them with their parents.
• Policies of both parties have long tolerated internal investigations by the police when an officer is suspected of killing a Black child or adult without justifiable cause.

If the Republican Party cared about the welfare of children, its policies would lift children up out of poverty. 

• It doesn't.

If the Republican Party cared about the welfare of children, it would advocate for reasonable gun control to ensure that children were safe in their schools. 

• It doesn't.

There is abundant evidence to suggest that the Republican Party is not especially interested in the welfare of children. 

What if the Republicans' primary motivation for overturning Roe v. Wade were to assert power over (cis) women? 

What would that look like?

• Cis women would lose the right to terminate a pregnancy, even in cases of rape, incest, or medical necessity.
• Cis women would have to carry a pregnancy to term regardless of any plans she might have had to finish school, or to become a dancer, athlete, or astronaut.
•  Cis girls as young as 11 would have no choice but to carry a pregnancy to term.
• Thousands of cis women living in poverty would die as a result of medically unsupervised abortions. 
• Anyone assisting a woman to get an abortion might be found liable in civil court for placing the interests of the woman above those of an embryo or fetus. 
• Any doctor or clinic that provided safe abortion for cis women would be at risk for losing their license or going to prison. 

One billboard at a recent protest said it best: 

"You don't trust me to make this decision for myself, but you trust me to have a child?"

Even if you are a woman who believes that abortion is wrong, you might see, based on abundant evidence, that the motivation for overturning Roe v. Wade was not to protect the lives of (unborn) children so much as it was to take control away from the lives of (cis) women.

If the state is allowed to take a life-altering decision away from (cis) women, then (cis) women lose the right to "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness" as set forth in the Declaration of Independence.

The Declaration of Independence,

that document published in 1776 which set forth the reason for the United States coming into existence --seven years before the American Revolution was won, and eleven years before the U.S. Constitution. 

The first paragraph of that nation-defining document declares,

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed[...]

I ask any woman who is pro-choice this question: 

Do you believe that the only American citizens who have the rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness should be (white) men? 

Is that okay with you?

Or do you think that these earliest, most dearly held, nationally defining rights should apply to you as well? 

Do you believe those rights should apply to all American citizens? 

Because guess what. 

Women no longer have the right to Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

How could we? 

Please explain to me how we possibly could have those rights without Roe v. Wade. Without decision-making authority over our own bodies, our own lives. 

As a (cis) woman, your most essential rights as an American citizen have been overturned. 

Withdrawn. 

Kaput.

Regardless of your position on abortion, you no longer have the most singular rights of an American citizen as spelled out in the first paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. 

You are no longer a stakeholder in the original American dream. 

How does it feel?

The Good-Luck House (and Barn)

 

Phil and I are sitting in front of a crackling fire. Zarya the dog, is spread out on a drop cloth draped over a long, deep couch. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out onto thin pines and bare trees astride  Keusel Lake, a log home and the illusion of forest on the other side. The sky is overcast. Raindrops cling to the patio furniture on a deck designed to accommodate a big family or a dozen friends.

This is not our house. This is not even the house that we originally rented. The house that we rented had a more worn-in look and feel, more human dander, and a narrower deck.

This is a house of good fortune, a direct result of my having contracted Covid three weeks ago when  infection rates were supposed to have been extremely low. I had just begun to venture out. I think I made it as far as KwikTrip.

Our first night here, in an episode of "The Last Kingdom", a prescient child was blindfolded and tasked with selecting someone in the crowd. She cut a meandering path through the crowd and eventually slipped her hand into a young man's hand. That man then walked over to a fumarole the size of a manhole--we knew that it was a volcanic vent because it emitted steam. Without visible hesitation, he took one step and disappeared into the fumarole without a sound.

He was the chosen sacrifice. His bad luck was brought about intentionally to open the door for good fortune for the group. 

I thought it was interesting, how that theme resonated with how we came to be here in this house. I was reminded of how Covid got us this vacation rental upgrade, seeing that theme reiterated in a ritualized human sacrifice. 

The idea of good fortune requiring a counterweight of ill fortune--and vice versa--seems to go way back. 

In the Bible, God had Abraham prepare to sacrifice his son, Isaac. A messenger from God stops Abraham from completing the grim task, saying, "Now I know you fear God." And then Abraham unbinds his son, sees a ram, and slays the ram as a substitute sacrifice (instead of Isaac).

I am no theologist, nor have I made a study of this particular passage; it just sprang to mind in the context of discussing human sacrifice. 

Even though the messenger tells Abraham that he is satisfied to know that Abraham fears God (and to fear God is to believe in the power of God), still Abraham slays the ram anyway, as a sacrifice. 

Why slay the ram? God is satisfied that Abraham has proven his belief in God. And surely, the ram is not as valuable a sacrifice as Isaac. The ram was not selected by God, as Isaac had been. The ram just happened to be passing by. 

Perhaps the fact that the ram had the great bad luck to pass by at just that minute made it an adequate sacrifice--not because the ram was intrinsically valuable (relative to Isaac), but because it was a ram with truly great bad luck. (Whereas, when you think about it, Isaac was really very lucky.) 

Maybe Abraham slaughtered the ram because of some mathematical law of the universe that requires a balance of good luck for bad. 

Maybe Abraham slaughtered the ram not for God, but to balance out Isaac's great good luck with the ram's truly awful luck. 

Maybe the sacrifice of the ram was not for God, but a simple act of balancing the scales. 

Anyway, that's not what this post is about. This post is about houses. 

As soon as you put a drop cloth and a dog on a couch, that house is yours--while you're in it. The more so if it's raining. The more so if you build a fire. The more so if you have a few dishes in the sink.

But when we prepare to leave, we will have to fold up the drop-cloth, sweep up the ashes, clean and put away the dishes. We will have to initiate a process of erasing all traces of our presence, a process that will be completed by the person who comes to clean the house up after us.

We will go home to our house. 

I am deeply attached to our house, our barn, our 4.5 acres of pines, deciduous trees, lawn, and pasture. 

Don't get me started on the details of habitat, the comings and goings of migratory birds, the raccoon and her kits, the cranes, the cardinals, the storied history of four equines who have found love, safety, heaven, and hell here, on this patch of earth. 

You may not remember this from an earlier post, but for several years, my luck with the horses had been so bad that the veterinarian had suggested I rub sage in their stalls. Moreover, a friend from the dog park advised me that a lot of suicides happen in old barns, which could reasonably set up a lot of bad juju. I had come very close to hiring a...Oh, what do you call those people who have a sixth sense and have various remedies for this type of situation...? Anyway, despite all evidence in this post to the contrary, I was reluctant to go in that direction. Instead, I've relied on data mining among horse-keepers and researched the veterinary literature, leaving no stone unturned. 

I have made a study of aging horses' guts and teeth, of pony feet and pony metabolism. I have heaped a hundred pounds onto the scale on the side of prevention. For the first time ever, all of the horses got through last winter unscathed. 

Nonetheless, it is a great comfort to that this happened: One night this late winter, I slid back the door to the barn, switched on the hay-lights, and what did I see? Was the pony's face oddly misshapen?  

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw a bird, as distinguished from the pony's head, come into focus (most likely a red-tailed hawk). It was perched on the top oak board, one of two heavy horizontals that formed a primitive gate to keep the horses on their side of the barn. 

The hawk and pony were only inches apart, as if they had been enjoying a visit. 

The fact that the horses were not troubled by my appearance seemed to confuse the bird as to his own attitude toward me. For a moment, the bird and I seemed frozen in place, regarding one another.  

Then the hawk stooped, preparing to take flight. 

I bent my knees, bowed my head, and the hawk flew over me, out the door into the night. 

I reported this event to Sam, an aspiring Wiccan. Sam said, when a hawk crosses your path it means you are protected. 

It meant that my barn and horses were finally safe. 

To verify this hopeful news, I further researched online the meaning of such an encounter with a hawk.

And yes, the consensus among the ...Oh, what is the word for spiritual beliefs tied tied to nature and the spirit world and North American tribal / aboriginal religions / Druidic-pagan / Wiccan cosmologies...? 

 That. 

There is consensus there that such an encounter with a hawk has totemic significance. 

If I should ever build a totem (I really should), I would put a red-tailed hawk at the top. 

I guess this post was not about houses. Maybe it's about finding safe havens. 

This is a good-luck house.

  

Listen to Your Dog

 So, it happened: I got Covid. It wasn't as bad as I expected. 

First off, for some magical reason, I had an overwhelming urge last weekend to go to Trader Joes and buy bags and bags of frozen cuisine, each bag bedazzled with a glossy, 4-color rendering of its delectable contents, sizzling hot and tastefully lit: a moveable feast for skillet or microwave. 

I also went to the feed store last week and doubled up on ingredients for my two senior horses' mash. I even loaded up on dog food and dry cat food. 

And, after a brief moment recently when I was stunned to discover that there was only one roll of toilet paper left in the entire house, I had taken measures to ensure that that would not happen again, barring some sudden and unforeseen extreme shift in the flow of commerce. 

We even had extra boxes of Kleenex on hand, bought when I was loading up on toilet paper.

Moreover, if you can believe this coincidence, a couple weeks ago I had offloaded a substantial amount of work-related ballast to avoid sinking--without having done which, any pause in my rate of productivity would have resulted in something akin to that container ship running aground in the Suez Canal. 

As it was, I could afford to take a week to convalesce and watch Season 11 of The Walking Dead.

It was almost as if I had been preparing all these weeks to get Covid, the same way I might prepare to  spend an entire week in the Bahamas.

Having watched a documentary on Netflix about how dogs can sense people's moods and health, I was more alert to how our dog  Zarya responded to the change in my health. 

When I woke up on Monday with the flu and cold symptoms of the Covid combo, Zarya, our 95-pound shepherd-Doberman mix appeared crestfallen and wouldn't approach me. She hustled out of my room, and would check in only furtively a couple times a day (with my husband). Basically, she acted as if I had beaten her and she wasn't sure it was safe to be around me. 

I won't lie; it was wounding. 

By Wednesday, she began to perk up. And I was feeling better. Not great, but better. 

By Thursday, without being pushy about it, Zarya suggested a walk. Note: She had not suggested a walk on Monday or since, and that is really saying something. Normally, she expects two walks each day, and she is very clear about the timeframe in which these walks should happen. 

By Friday, Zarya had cheered up immensely and no longer treated me as if I were a felon. She insisted I was ready for a walk. 

So, I got up, got dressed, masked up, and Zarya and I walked for 15-20 minutes through the woods at the park down the street. That was enough for me. 

And Zarya was fine with that. She hopped back in the car as thought it had been a really nice long walk altogether from her point of view.

Having grown accustomed to spending gobs and gobs of time alone in my lovely little bedroom under a puddle of cats, I have had a very big day today. (It's Saturday.) I took Zarya to the dog park near a grocery store, and then I went to the grocery store and got piles of groceries. 

Of course, I masked up. 

When will I feel like I don't need to wear a mask in a grocery store?  

Before getting Covid, when I was going around all nude in the face, I was also looking in the paper at the local statistics for covid infections. They were extremely low. 

My friends have been making up for lost time, going to concerts and plays every chance they get...Going to their kids' games and having the book club at their house... 

Why is it I go to the KwikTrip, and BAM! ...Covid. 

My life seemed just on the threshold of becoming normal. 

I was just about to buy tickets for Amy Schumer's 2022 concert in November, trying to picture myself in a crowd of hundreds of hard-laughing people. (November will be here before you know it.)  

Am I now among the super-inoculated? Can I run amok in the mosh pit if I want to? Or am I going to be one of the lucky ones to get Covid twice or three times.

I don't know. But Zarya is saying it's time for a walk.