Skip to main content

Swiped from a Facebook Comment

Sad, but true.

I linked to a fun article on Facebook, "Am I the Last Person in America Who Still Adores President Obama?" from A friend of mine out in IL said that she does, too, but can't talk about him around her Catholic colleagues (she works for the local diocese), because he's pro-choice.

Now, keep in mind, this issue of the single-issue has been simmering for me since about 1986 when I first watched the marches on Washington on the anniversary of Roe v. Wade. So it's a Well, maybe you'll decide for yourself what it is.

You see, I get troubled by this because, as Roman Catholics, we don't have blinders like this on a single other issue where federal or state laws conflict with canon: no one demands that IVF be banned, no one's calling for divorce to be outlawed (as it was in Ireland for YEARS because of the Catholic Church's influence), no one's calling for meat to be banned on Fridays from February to April. President Obama is the most Christian president we've had in years when you look at his social justice programs, civil rights stances, and most of his foreign policy. He wants to feed the poor, and for people to visit the imprisoned, and for there to be "neither man nor woman, neither gentile nor Jew."

Some pro-life critics say that it's a matter of magnitude, but that argument rings hollowly for me. Abortion may have the greatest magnitude, but I can't help but feel that the other issues would get at least a little time if the conflict of church vs. state laws were really all there was to it. These single-issue folks seem to be hiding behind this one issue--and it's a big issue. Plenty of room back there, especially since it was one of the first things that Protestants and Roman Catholics ever agreed on, politically. But I have a sinking feeling it's because the discomfort they feel regarding various social justice issues--women, minorities, the poor--is not something they feel comfortable talking about, especially in public.


Popular posts from this blog


So, besides the fact that this song's lyrics are hitting way too close to home right now, I'm looking for help setting up 1.) more of a web presence than I currently have, and b.) a more impressive web presence than I currently have. I've already put two library books on WordPress on hold. Anyone have tutorial or book suggestions?

The Power of Poop

So, I've technically missed a day on my mission to write a blog post every day for 40 days, but I got back up to write this, so it counts for something. I think I had a really good reason for missing out, though.

A new and exciting side effect of depression for me these days is insomnia and the general screwing-up of my diurnal cycle, i.e., I don't have one. That isn't helped by the fact that the last part of Herself's bedtime routine is mommy or daddy staying to cuddle for the first story on her If You Give A Mouse A Cookie CD. My problem is that I get so warm, content, and comfy that I fall asleep, sometimes for a few hours. This, as you can guess, helps my own sleeping situation not at all. So I promised The Therapist and The Shrink that I would work harder to stay for just the first story, and then leave and go to bed at a decent hour for me (ideally, 2200 - 2300).1

Our house has been in some emotional upheaval the past week or so. We got some scary news about fami…

Be Warned, I Swear in This One. A Lot.

This post is in response to an essay I read earlier today by an internet acquaintance and very popular author and blogger Ferrett Steinmetz, entitled, "How to Be a Good Depressive Citizen." In his essay, Ferrett makes a very good point about the unwritten yet strangely compulsory stoicism required of writers who grapple with depression. We hold ourselves to this impossible standard we would never require of anyone else. At least I hope to G-d we would never require of anyone else--that would be monstrous. But, for me, what he says boils down to this:

You do not discuss your depression until you can be an inspiration, or you are just fucking crazy. Nobody likes crazy.Hi. My name is Lyn, and I am fucking crazy. Really. Mentally ill, as they say. Liking me is optional, but, I'm told, entertaining as all hell. Case in point: I'm kind of done with being publicly stoic about how big a mess my life is at the moment, and feel like flinging my crazy around like paint. Feel fre…