Marriage, Family & Parenthood
To think, Martha Coakley almost become our US Senator. The erstwhile Senate candidate and current Massachusetts attorney general wants a federal judge to declare by fiat that the federal marriage protection law is unconstitutional. And she wants him to declare it without even the pretense of a trial.
Coakley argued that regulating marital status is traditionally left to the states. She said the federal law treats married heterosexual couples and same-sex couples differently in determining eligibility for Medicaid benefits and whether the spouse of a veteran can be buried in a veterans’ cemetery.
The law forces the state “to engage in invidious discrimination against its own citizens in order to receive and retain federal funds in connection with two joint federal-state programs,” Coakley argued. “Massachusetts cannot receive or retain federal funds if it gives same-sex and different-sex spouses equal treatment …”
Except, it’s only “invidious discrimination” if you’ve decided a priori that two people of the same sex can be married. But since the duly-elected representatives of the people of the United States have declared otherwise then by definition it’s not discrimination for the federal government to deny funds intended for married couples to people who aren’t really married. In addition, because of the “full faith and credit” clause of the US Constitution, the federal government can’t make an exception for Massachusetts or any other state that has decided to ignore human nature and the realities of thousands of years of human culture and civilization on the subject of marriage. And even more, since the people of Massachusetts have been denied their right to address this topic either through their representatives or through direct referendum—instead having it forced on them by, not coincidentally, judicial fiat—Coakley’s ploy here is more of the same liberal agenda to force social engineering over the objections of the governed, by deciding for the “proles” what’s best for them.
I can’t wait until this fall when we can finally put Martha out to pasture once and for all. Hopefully we can finally find someone who will actually uphold both the Massachusetts and US Constitutions against all these attempts to undermine them and attack the foundations of our republic.
Photo via Wikimedia Commons under a Creative Commons license.
In June 2008, our offices moved from Brighton to Braintree, to a relatively new office building that sits on the edge of an office park, but is right next to a large cemetery. For some reason that felt right. Memento mori, after all, was a common refrain of medieval scholastics. And so the window next to my cubicle (excuse me… “workstation”) looked out over the cemetery and specifically its newest section.
On the day we moved in, my colleagues and I noticed a group of cars parked next to a gravestone. It was obviously not a funeral. In fact, it resembled a picnic. The cars’ occupants were sitting in lawn chairs next to the grave under the sunny June sky. We remarked at the strangeness of it, but figured they must be friends and relatives of the recently deceased giving him one last goodbye.
But over the following days and weeks and months, I noticed a pattern. Every day,there was at least one car next to that grave, usually around noon and for a large part of an hour. Sometimes there were two cars. If it was sunny and warm, a woman could be seen standing next to the grave or sometimes sitting in a chair. If it was raining or cold, she would remain in the warmth of the car. Who is the woman keeping a daily vigil?
Finally, curiousity got the better of one of my co-workers and me so one day, after the woman had gone, we hopped in a car and drove around to the cemetery’s entrance and then to the grave we had been keeping watch over and suddenly it became clear. The gravestone was carved with images of toy cars and checkered flags and the dates told us that boy buried here had been only 13 when he’d died. The woman we had seen must be the mother of the boy, who we’ll call “Timmy”.
Back at the office, I googled Timmy’s name and date of death and found a newspaper article detailing his untimely end. He was the only child of a single mom who had remarried. One day, not long ago, he had been riding in a local park with his stepfather, when he lost control of his bike and crashed into a tree. Despite wearing a helmet, he was killed.
And so this woman, this mother, comes every day to visit the earthly remains of the child she lost.
Melanie and I have discussed the unique grief of a woman who loses an only child versus a woman with many children. The loss of a child is an anguish that is as deep in either case, but the mother of many children is pulled forward into daily life each day by the needs and love of her other children. The mother who loses her only child could be caught in the whirlpool of grief without an anchor to pull herself free.
The mother still keeps her lonely vigil 18 months later and longer and every time I see her, I say a prayer for her. I don’t know if she’s Catholic or even religious, but I hope that the presence of the Eucharist in our building’s chapel and the many Masses and prayers offered in this place are a kind of consolation to her, even if she does not know about them.
One area of parenting philsophy in which Melanie and I definitely agree is that we don’t obsess about kids getting dirty, touching dirty things, or eating things that, shall we say, made a detour between plate and mouth. It’s not that we want to encourage uncouth habits, but we recognize that we don’t live in sterile haitats and that for eons kids have been doing just fine rolling in and even consuming some small amounts of dirt and dirty stuff.
It turns out that science supports our parenting instincts. According to a new study out of Northwestern University, dirt and being dirty is good for kids. In fact, exposure to common germs and bacteria as children can lead to cardiovascular health as adults.
“Contrary to assumptions related to earlier studies, our research suggests that ultra-clean, ultra-hygienic environments early in life may contribute to higher levels of inflammation as an adult, which in turn increases risks for a wide range of diseases,” says Thomas McDade, associate professor of anthropology at Northwestern University and lead author of the study.
I think this is a case of science supporting common sense. You can’t build up an immuniy if you aren’t exposed to germs. And if you don’t have an immunity against the small stuff, you’re in big trouble when you’re exposed to the heavy-duty stuff. The study says the same thing, but only in a way that a biology Phd would say it.
“In the U.S we have this idea that we need to protect infants and children from microbes and pathogens at all possible costs,” McDade concludes. “But we may be depriving developing immune networks of important environmental input needed to guide their function throughout childhood and into adulthood.
Yeah, what he said. No, scoot along outside and make some mud pies. And finish this apple you dropped on the floor. It’s good for you.
Check this out. My brother and his family were featured in this episode of CatholicTV‘s House+Home show.
This is the house I grew up in. What’s now the girls’ bedroom used to be the room I shared with my brother when we were kids. It looked “a lot” different then. Also look for the steer horns that Melanie and I brought back for my nephews from one of our trips to Texas.
Yesterday we took Benedict and Sophia to their 2-month and 18-month doctor’s appointments, respectively. I went in to work late so Melanie wouldn’t have to juggle three kids by herself, including two kids getting immunization shots. Whew, I hate watching them get those. I feel like Judas everytime the doctor or nurse sticks them with a needle and my child turns to me in tear with accusing eyes as if to say, “How can you stand by and allow this?”
So, the doctor asked her usual questions about Sophia’s development, including how many words does she know. “Does she know 10 words?” Melanie and I laughed. Oh, more than that certainly. “Twenty, 25?” Oh yes, at least. The doctor seemed impressed. I puffed up with pride at my brilliant progeny,
Later, Melanie counted up all the words that Sophia knows; not just words she parrots but that she can use in context, and came up with at least 100 words.
I was tellikng my co-worker, Anna, about this, not to be one of those prideful parents who boast of their child’s skills, mind you. After all, kids develop at their own rates, and if my child seems advanced, et cetera, etc.
Anna proceeded to tell me of a friend of hers who has a one-year-old child who is so advanced I swooned. This one-year-old—-I can hardly believe it—is … potty trained! Oh what use are words compared to that?!
I told Anna, “I’d trade 30 words for potty training.” Potty training! At one!
Melanie brought me down to earth later. She reasoned that a potty-trained one-year-old must use the free-standing pot, not the one that sits on the regular toilet. That means it must be cleaned after each use, which is a way dirtier job than just changing a diaper. So I stand corrected. I’ll keep the 30 words and diapers and be happy if we potty train by 3 like Isabella. Three! That’s advanced, right?
