Terri, Again, Again And Again, Till This Travesty Is Over

In September, 1946 in Bayreuth, Germany, home of the composer Richard Wagner, a child was born. This wasn't a normal child, his legs were bent, his feet crooked, he would likely never walk normally, never run, never play soccer. In fact, had the German's won WWII, had the child's parent's not been American and the child's father part of the Constabulary (a branch of the Army of Occupation) that child would probably have been condemned, perhaps starved, killed with a bullet to the back of the head, smothered or tossed in a gas chamber. Condemned for the sin of being imperfect, useless, a waste of resources. Much like is being done to Terri Schiavo by our justice system and the machinations of one Michael Schiavo - new Protector of the Fit and Healthy, Grand High Commissioner of Dealing with the Disabled.

That child, born 58 years ago was me. I don't remember any of that of course, I rember only what my parents told me. A German POW who was also an Orthopedic surgeon was brought in, the American Docs wanted to break my legs and feet and re-set them so they would grow strong and streight - maybe. The German said not needed and designed a set of progressive braces which I wore till I was 7 or so. Big hulking leather cuffs around my hips and knees, steel rods down the thighs and lower legs, ugly ungainly shoes with steel bars pushing here, pulling there. I vaguely recollect those braces, I remember the muscle aches growing up, I remember shuffling to the bathroom in my night-time braces. I remember unlacing them, removing them and hiding them under the bushes so I could play baseball like the other kids, and being laughed at when I couldn't run as fast as they could. I remember the love and attention paid to me by my mom and dad, by my older sister when she would sometimes rub my calf and thigh muscles.

I eventually grew up with fairly normal legs, they still ache from time to time, I still have knock knees )( <-- like that rather than || <-- like that. But I'm a professional, I teach at a University, I have a private practice. I lived, even if I wasn't perfect, even if I may have been a burden.

Steven Hawkings, perhaps one of the most brilliant minds of this current century isn't perfect, in fact, he couldn't talk, walk, speak, but man oh man could he think.

Terri Schiavo isn't perfect, in fact, she is severely disabled by a traumatic brain injury. She may never walk, talk or hold her family in her arms. But She, Hawkings and I have one thing in common, our shared humanity, the love of our family, and the love & grace of Almighty God. Who are the Michael Schiavo's of this world to take that away?