Normally, it doesn't make me angry.
Normally, I don't even notice.
Today, I noticed.
Today, I got angry.
It's a common enough sight when grocery shopping, people pick over the fruits and vegetables looking for just the right tomato, just the right peach. We were going to try a new recipe for Fresh Tomato Pie and I was sitting with the flimsy store bag in my hand waiting for a woman to go through each and every tomato on the stand. She'd pick one up, examine it for even the slightest imperfection and, when found, her face would screw up like she'd stepped in poo and she'd toss it aside and then look for another. We waited a few minutes and then I told Joe to pick up the other items and I'd wait my turn.
And I did.
But I hated what I saw. The search for perfection. The tossing aside of a perfectly good tomato because of the slightest flaw. "This," I thought, "is the problem."
You see this morning I was reading the paper, it was a beautiful sunny day - perfect for lounging about and catching up on the news. Then I read an article about an Italian mother who, carrying twins, was informed that one of the twins had Down Syndrome. She asked for the one with the extra gene to be aborted and the other, the normal perfect one, to be kept safe. During that abortion the wrong baby was left behind. The typical kid was aborted and the wrong baby, the baby with Down Syndrome grew on. Devastated at the tragic loss of the 'right' baby it was decided that the 'wrong' baby would now be terminated.
In all the discussion of this, the tragedy of the loss of the normal child is emphasized. The kid with Down Syndrome, the disposable, flushable, abortable baby - well, it's survival of the first attempt on it's life, that was a tragedy. Now the family is looking at all sorts of law suits because of their pain and suffering. They mourn the loss of the baby they wanted. The right and good heir.
Well as far as I'm concerned, that kid with Down Sydrome, was the 'right' baby.
Unfortunate to be given the wrong family.