At St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in Huntington, in a hall beside the church Professor Wohlman spoke. The event was sponsored by the American Coalition of Life Activists. Some eighteen of us, from our church in Muskegee Falls, who belonged to the Army of God of Broome County, and some others (like our pastor who did not wish to officially “ally” himself with the Army) drove to Huntington in several vehicles to attend this meeting.
The Coalition is made up of Protestant and Catholic organizations that have united in common opposition to the Supreme Court decision Roe v. Wade of 1973. There is a distrust of the (atheist/socialist) state and federal governments interfering with individuals. It is a fact, abortion is murder—this belief is shared by all of us.
It does not matter if a woman’s pregnancy was caused by rape or incest or any mitigating factor. For how could it matter, to the infant in the womb, or to God who is the father of all? Of course, it could not.
Our wives do not argue in these matters. But they listen closely to us, and it is rare for them to disagree.
Edna Mae does not “know” that her husband is a member of the Army of God and has made certain vows. There is no need to speak of this as there is no need to speak of such things aloud, that are never questioned.
Many times in our church our young pastor Reverend Dennis had spoken of Williard Wohlman. It had been Reverend Dennis’s idea that we drive from Muskegee Falls to Huntington, West Virginia, in a little caravan.
There was excitement in this! Reverend Dennis said how like pilgrims we were, in making this journey. I had not felt such a flurry of hope and expectation since years ago when I had first driven to Toledo, to begin studies at the Toledo School of Ministry when I was a young man still.
I had discovered online that Willard Wohlman had studied in a Jesuit seminary in Chicago as a young man but left without taking his vows to become a priest. He had been a “staunch Democrat” for all of his life until the Democrat party threw its support behind abortion on request, at which point he broke from the party to take an independent position as he called it.
“Oh! So many . . .”
Edna Mae gripped my hand tight meaning to murmur So many people but her voice faltered as we entered the church hall in Huntington. It was not common in Edna Mae’s life now to enter any place where faces were unfamiliar, and so many faces!—she did not attend any church services except our services at our church where everyone is known to everyone else and is like a family, where you do not need even to look at another person to register his identity.
It was painful for me to see my dear wife’s face at this time for her youthful features had aged with the ravages of grief, and the spirit of the Lord that had shone so bright in her eyes since she’d been a girl seemed to have vanished like a lighted wick that has been turned so low, the flame has died out.
There was a slackness to her skin, and a puffiness beneath her eyes, that had to do with the medications she was prescribed. I did not like my dear wife to take these medications, but the doctor assured us, they were necessary for Edna Mae at this time.
Edna Mae pulled at me, as a child might tug at an adult’s hand. There was an unusual eagerness about her conjoined with dread, that showed itself in her curious posture, in which her shoulders hunched forward like the shoulders of one bracing herself against a strong wind. It made me uneasy, Edna Mae was wearing a badly rumpled raincoat of a dark purple material thin as vinyl and on her feet flimsy shoes like house slippers that exposed much of her white feet that appeared to be bare as her legs were bare and very white.
I did not want to think what Edna Mae might be wearing beneath the raincoat which hurriedly she had taken from a closet. It was a fear of mine, my dear wife would not be properly dressed beneath the coat, in a public place, yet I had not thought to inspect her, in our hurry at leaving at the prepared time.
“Luther! Hurry. Here.”
I am not so bold, as to wish to sit in the very first row of any gathering. I am a tall man, with a wide frame, and it is very easy for me to become exposed, as the eyes of strangers move upon me without sympathy or recognition; my cheeks grow ruddy with the slightest provocation and especially a birthmark shaped like a spade, of a coarse red sandpaper skin-texture, on my left cheek. And Edna Mae too, until recently, had been a shy person, but no longer, for a wild sort of sorrow gripped her like an invisible creature that had her in its coils causing her sometimes to laugh shrilly for no evident reason.