Six-Day Fast for Life at an Abortion Clinic
“YOUR KIND NEVER CARES ABOUT WAR”
Monday, First Day
Doug took me down to Planned Parenthood with my leaflets, a prayer bench and cushion, and a thermos of lemonade. We firmly attached two signs (“Abortion is Not Healthy for Women and Other Living Things” and the other, a drawing of a happy, frisky fetus with the caption, “Peace Starts Here”) to a tree and a concrete wall, just outside Planned Parenthood’s property line.
The PP staffer, a good-looking woman, was upon us almost instantly: “Let’s be very clear about the rules. Keep off our property [she indicated an imaginary line from the corner of a bed of flowering primulas to a garbage dumpster on the other side of the driveway]; no blocking of access; and keep moving. Otherwise, you give me no option but to call the police.”
I had to smile at that. “Oh, I give you no option? In that case, let me give you an option. You may decide not to call the police, if you want. Okay?”
“We will have no option but to call the police,” she repeated with slight irritation. She turned and went back into the building, almost, I might say, with a professional click of the heels.
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Unlike the invisible, nameless, voiceless, and forgettable preborn child, the rescuer is visible, named, memorable, and possesses a voice.
Abortion was a crime in the extant states in 1868 and in the territories that became states after 1868 and the District of Columbia. Yet later, Roe was called “settled law”?