Last Commute

File under: "Things I'm not going to miss about working''

The commute.

My husband and I drove together to work this morning. Not because it's my last day of work or anything... he's going to the Tiger's game with the guys from the investment club and will get a ride home from one of them later tonight. Anyway, that's not really the point of this entry.

Our commute started out like a typical summer, Friday morning commute, lighter than normal traffic. But, somewhere around city airport we came to a halt. I was in the far left lane (as usual), and it was too late for me to get off the freeway at Connor. We inched along for the next 3.5 miles without getting the speedometer over 15-20 mph. Everyone had the same idea to get off at Gratiot or Van Dyke, so that didn't seem like a viable solution to me. Besides, none of the traffic reports on 760 or 950 gave any indication of an accident or any other type of slow down ahead.

"I bet you're not going to miss this," my husband said.

"That's for sure," I responded.

"There MUST be an accident, this is bad," said husband.

Just then, I saw them...

"Don't tell me that's what's backing up traffic!?!" I said.

"What, what is it?" my husband asked, straining to see what I saw.

"Look up, on the pedestrian over pass, " I told him.

And there they were, a small posse of abortion protestors. They had already hung up two huge pictures of aborted, late-term fetuses, and now they were in the process of hanging up a bright yellow sign with black wording which read, "Abortion is Murder."

Traffic broke free as soon as we went under the overpass.

"There should be a law," I said, but I didn't finish my thought out loud. I understand the protestors have a right to protest, but their chosen time and place, in my opinion, was not appropriate.

My husband and I drove in silence for the next few moments. I shed a little tear for the two lost lives depicted on the pictures hanging on the overpass, not so much because I'm anti-abortion,* but more because of the exploitation of those lost potential lives. (They were not pretty pictures, and they were certainly hard to look at, but I've seen worse.) Who, I wonder, gave consent to let those pictures be used like that? And how do abortion protestors in general get their hands on those pictures in the first place? From the woman who had the abortion or the doctor or nurse from the clinic where the abortion was performed? I just don't get it.

A mile or so down the freeway, we came upon another set of pictures and another sign on another overpass, but there were no protestors in sight. The images and words alone did not have the same impact on traffic. My fellow commuters were speeding along, seemingly unaware of the images above. Perhaps many were as annoyed as I was that the activity on the previous overpass had slowed us down the way it did and didn't bother to look.

"So much for their protest," I thought to myself, "I guess people were more intersted in looking at the people on the bridge and trying to determine whether they were going to jump." Suicide, murder, abortion, these were things that I did not want to think about on the morning of my last commute. But starting Monday, these are things that I won't be thinking about, hopefully, while I'm home taking care of my kids.

*I don't really have anything new to add to the abortion discourse, and when I started writing this entry I didn't intend for it to be about whether I label myself pro-life or pro-choice because I don't align myself with either side. I've probably pissed off people on both sides of the issue with this entry. When asked, I say that "I am not anti-abortion," but for me, that doesn't equate to "I am for abortion." I can't support a woman's choice to end an unwanted pregnancy when the abortion is being used as a means of birth control. I understand that condoms break and that the pill is not 100% effective, but it's about taking personal responsibility for your actions.