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A Crip Mom's Mother's Day Thoughts About Peter Singer I have one human son who is graduating from high school this month. But when he goes off to college come the fall, the house won't be an empty nest at all. For I still have an assortment of animals living here, which we rescued from certain death.
One of our pack is deaf. Some are visually impaired. Some are so emotionally disabled from abuse that we may never be able to convince them they aren't being abandoned again when we run out to go shopping. Others are old and have a hard time getting around. We took each of them them in, sparing them from certain death, because their disabilities did not bother us. Peter Singer, the animal liberation philosopher, might approve of my caring for these rescued pets that others wanted to throw away or hurt. In fact, my son was in the same boat. He was premature; his first months were a great struggle. He spent time in the neonatal intensive care nursery. He survived -- with a disability. His first month was the worst. It is during this first month, Singer the philosopher says, that parents should be allowed to kill such a child -- with no social repercussions. But from the moment I got kicked good and hard from the inside while at that Arlo Guthrie concert, my son's humanity was never an issue for me. Did my tiny preemie then (who needed so much energy to eat that at first he lost weigh at mealtimes) show pleasure, pain and struggle? Oh yes, definitely. But not everyone saw that. Indeed, I found that the staff with the most medical degrees behind their names had to have the simpliest responses pointed out to them the most often. These medical folks, it seemed, could not recognize baby tears -- or smiles -- without help. What I saw back them prepared me for later reading Peter Singer's beliefs about allegedly "objective" medical standards for judging quality of life for disabled newborns. * * * Every day now, I get to see what Singer has to say about the value of animal life. My animals with disabilities play, show joy, and exhibit fierce loyal to their community -- our family. When one of them seems to be remembering their "bad old days," we hold them close while they cry or moan. Why wouldn't Peter Singer have valued my son's life way back when in the same way? * * * I save disabled animals, which Singer would approve of. But Peter Singer wouldn't approve of saving my kid? I don't get it...I really don't. But this Mother's Day, I'm content and grateful to be the crip mom of a crip two-footer -- and of several crip four-footers But I gotta go. We're outta milk and cereal and dry cat food and canned dog food....back to real and wonderful life. Rus Cooper-Dowda is a minister and freelance writer in St. Petersburg, Fla. Posted May 7, 2003
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