Mrs. Ireland

Mrs. Helen Ireland

Fifty years ago I was a fourth grade student at Fausey School in West Springfield, MA. My teacher, Mrs. Ireland, was new to the school system, a seasoned professional, and black. When she introduced herself to the class I remember thinking she was the only colored Irish person I had ever seen (give me a break – I was only 9).

The town is nicknamed “West Side” because it’s on the west bank of the Connecticut River, across from the City of Springfield. The river was a cultural boundary: the minority population was in the city while West Side was white. There weren’t any minority students in the school system and Mrs. Ireland was the first black teacher hired there.

Mrs. Ireland lived in Springfield with husband George on a well-kept, tree-lined urban street occupied by families who looked out for each other. If a kid strayed and a neighbor spotted him, it was acceptable and appreciated by the parent if the neighbor straightened him out. Church was a big part of life.

She had traveled overseas, including three trips to the Holy Land, and filled her classroom with displays that piqued curiosity in an orderly environment where learning was fun – and expected. She had a no-nonsense approach, but it didn’t conceal her love for the kids. She was a great teacher.

I always wanted to tell her the impact she had on me, but never did. There was no excuse for this and I regretted not following through. But I got a reprieve. One day the newspaper showed Roderick Ireland being sworn in as Chief Justice of the state Supreme Judicial Court. His mother - Mrs.Helen Ireland, age 92 - held the Bible.

I visited her the next day. She gets some help but cooks, walks, attends church and is sharp as a tack. When I mentioned she looked great at 92 she was quick to correct: “91.” She wears a glove on her weak left hand, but says she took karate lessons and “can still pack a wallop with the other one.”

She was raised down South with 9 siblings, all of whom graduated college. The family “lived at church” and God has always been central in her life.  It shows: she and George put four unrelated kids with unsupportive parents through college.

She says “You can do anything you put your mind to and work for.” I asked why she came to West Side, thinking civil rights was the reason. But it wasn’t: she “applied for it because it looked like a good job.”

She’s seen lots of changes. Her street isn’t safe at night, the houses have deteriorated and “we’ve got children raising the parents instead of the parents raising the children.” She and George saved all their lives, so she “doesn’t need money or ask for it, so the younger folks think I’m rich.” She asked, “Do I look rich to you?”

Actually she does. Her life story and faith make her wealthy.

Photo Credit:  Masslive.com


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Abortion Activist

Dr. Bernard Nathanson

Dr. Bernard Nathanson was on the front lines of the abortion debate in 1969 when he helped found the National Association for the Repeal of Abortion Laws (NARAL).  The gynecologist became a NARAL spokesman and pushed for passage of an act in the State of New York to legalize abortion.  It became law and Nathanson became director of the Center for Reproductive and Sexual Health (CRASH) in Manhattan.  He called it "the largest abortion clinic in the western world" with ten operating rooms, 35 doctors and 85 nurses.  It was open seven days a week and handled clients from all over the Eastern United States, performing 120 abortions daily.

The doctor estimates he was directly or indirectly responsible for 75,000 abortions, including his own child.  In his book The Hand of God  Nathanson reflected on it.  "I swear to you that I had no feelings aside from the sense of accomplishment, the pride of expertise." "You ask if perhaps for a fleeting moment or so I experienced a flicker of regret, a microgram of remorse?  No and no.  And that, dear reader, is the mentality of the abortionist:  another job well done, another demonstration of the moral neutrality of advanced technology in the hands of the amoral."

But ultrasound technology changed things.  Nathanson wrote, "For the first time, we could really see the human fetus, measure it, observe it, watch it and indeed bond with it and love it." He performed his last abortion in the late 1970's and did an about-face, lecturing and writing for the pro-life side.  In 1985 he narrated The Silent Scream, a film that graphically detailed the aborting of a 12-week-old fetus.

He wasn't the only one to undergo a metamorphosis.  Many have come to know the psychological price paid by millions of women who've had abortions.  Feelings of guilt, shame, worthlessness and anger are common and long term.  This emotional blowback gives lie to the idea that the procedure simply removes an inconsequential clump of cells or that a developing fetus can't feel pain so it's OK to terminate it.  The mother knows better and carries emotional burdens because of it.

Proponents try to justify abortion  by claiming there's no definable moment when the fetus becomes "life" until actual birth.  This ethic - if the word "ethic" can be applied here - condones even partial-birth abortion.  But the sophistry defies common sense:  as columnist Peggy Noonan once put it, "Anyone who's ever bought a condom knows when life starts."

The doctor described himself as a "Jewish atheist" who found himself burdened by "heavy moral baggage."  He eventually found Christianity and said "the New Testament God was a loving, forgiving, incomparably cossetting figure in whom I would seek, and ultimately find, the forgiveness I have pursued so hopelessly, for so long."  He was baptized in 1996.

Nathanson died recently at age 84 after a controversial, brutally self-examined and tormented life.  Like others who repent, he undoubtedly finally found peace with God in heaven.

Photo Credit: NYTimes.com
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