Baby

By Douglas V. Gibbs

 

During a conversation with a man who I recently met, he asked me what I do for a living.  I told him I am a constitutionalist.  Usually, that answer confuses people.  “Not what you identify as,” I am often told, “but what do you do for a living?” 

 

“I study the Constitution, I educate regarding the Constitution, I write regarding the Constitution, I public-speak regarding the Constitution, I host radio programs with emphasis on the Constitution.  I am a constitutionalist.”

 

“What kind of writing?” he asked.

 

“I blog, write articles that are also published in small newspapers and various online media outlets, and I’ve written a number of books,” I replied.

 

“What kind of books?” he asked.

 

“Mostly on the Constitution.  I have a new book, a fictional tale of science fiction, which is my first love when it comes to my writing.  And, one book about the evils of abortion.”

 

My last words caused the man to shift in his seat.  His entire demeanor changed.  His eyebrows knit together, drawing into a deep furrow that cast a shadow over his eyes.  His lips pressed into a thin, taut line, the corners twitching as if they struggled to contain an outburst.  His posture stiffened, he straightened his aged back, squaring his shoulders.  He took a sharp intake of breath, with his eyes narrow and one of his hands rising instinctively and his index finger pointing in an accusatory manner. 

 

“Evils of abortion?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” I responded calmly.  “Personhood begins at conception.  These persons are being killed by the millions, without opportunity to even defend themselves, nor to exercise their natural right to life.  Morally, the barbaric practice should be banned.  Constitutionally, as President Trump has rightly stated, each State must decide for itself whether or not to ban the sick practice of the sacrifice of innocent blood to God knows whatever demonic force demands it.”

 

His gaze locked onto mine; unyielding and intense, silently challenging the validity of my words.  When he finally spoke, it was with a fatherly tone, carrying a controlled edge, each word carefully and clearly enunciated, with a slight tinge of arrogance liberal professors with alphabets after their names have used on me in the past.

 

“Have you ever been to very poor countries like India, or those in Southeast Asia, or so?”

 

I had a feeling he expected me to say, “No.”  However, thanks to my time in the United States Navy, I was able to say otherwise.

 

“Then, you know,” he said.  “In these places the people are so poor, and the environment so destitute, that the children are deprived of opportunity and a decent life.  There are so many people.  How is it we have a right to tell a woman in such an impoverished situation that she has no right to terminate a pregnancy so that her child does not have to live in such poverty?”

 

I leaned forward. It was now my turn to assert my presence over his fatherly demeaner.  I maintained eye contact.  His defiance was unacceptable, not because I said so, but because of truth and the absolute hubris of his statement.

 

“A child’s life is not something that should have a price tag attached to it,” I replied.  “And, what you are basically saying is that those who are in poverty should not have children.  Is that why most Planned Parenthoods are located around major cities and specifically near poor neighborhoods?  Are you saying that, for the sake of the child, only wealthy people who can give the child a utopian life in your eyes should be the ones having children?  If you ask me, that’s quite the highbrow, elitist answer.  Am I correct in understanding that you are saying that a life, helpless and innocent in the womb, must be snuffed out because the child will not be living in an environment that you approve of.”

 

“Perhaps,” he said, “this is a conversation we should not be having.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

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