Tomorrow our nation commemorates the 30th anniversary of judicial activism’s most ignoble achievement. Back in 1973, I remember my father coming home from his monthly Men’s Club meeting at Epiphany of Our Lord Catholic Church in St. Louis with tears still streaking down his cheeks. Being the kind of man he is, he tried to hide them from the kids. “I can’t believe I fought two wars for this country, only to have those bastards send us all to hell,” he told my mother in the kitchen. “Those bastards” were the Supreme Court and those who supported the sickening Roe v. Wade decision. The Men’s Club had just seen an hour-long movie about abortion. Being mostly comprised of WWII veterans, the audience had seen enough killing in its life, and it knew instinctively the difference between killing and medicine. Some in attendance had liberated death camps just 28 years before—they could
A Grim Anniversary
A Grim Anniversary
A Grim Anniversary
Tomorrow our nation commemorates the 30th anniversary of judicial activism’s most ignoble achievement. Back in 1973, I remember my father coming home from his monthly Men’s Club meeting at Epiphany of Our Lord Catholic Church in St. Louis with tears still streaking down his cheeks. Being the kind of man he is, he tried to hide them from the kids. “I can’t believe I fought two wars for this country, only to have those bastards send us all to hell,” he told my mother in the kitchen. “Those bastards” were the Supreme Court and those who supported the sickening Roe v. Wade decision. The Men’s Club had just seen an hour-long movie about abortion. Being mostly comprised of WWII veterans, the audience had seen enough killing in its life, and it knew instinctively the difference between killing and medicine. Some in attendance had liberated death camps just 28 years before—they could