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The Observer

Trump's universe

By The Observer · Thursday, Nov. 29, 2012

One of the most welcome changes following the presidential election (besides the freedom from political ads on TV) was Donald Trump slithering out of national relevance. I'm not quite sure how he got there in the first place, but it involved initiating the absurd "birther movement," demanding President Obama's college transcripts, openly proclaiming the death of American democracy following the election results and urging the American people to rebel. Recently, Trump's children visited him and reportedly urged him to tone down his political commentary, as it was damaging his reputation as a real-estate mogul and entrepreneur. While this was a noble effort, especially considering the Trump kids stand to inherit whatever the Donald leaves behind, it was a futile one. Trump is legitimately insane and his election-time antics made that abundantly clear. I just don't think there's such a thing as regaining your reputation after that. Historically, a popular view of madness has been people who are mad argue right, but from wrong principles. That is, they logically form their thoughts from a set of principles and values, but the principles are insane and the resulting thought is insane. For example, Don Quixote adheres to a strict set of knightly ideals that govern his behavior, but he ends up doing things like fighting a herd of sheep. I feel like this definition of insanity does a pretty good job of summing up Donald Trump. Trump made a "big announcement" at the end of October, in which he offered to give $5 million to charity if President Obama would hand over his college transcripts and passport application for Trump's review. According to Trump, Obama's past is more enigmatic than the ethereal, silver wisps of hair that adorn the top of Trump's head. Also like Trump's hair, the President's origin is completely unclear, but is certainly not of this country, if even this universe. One of the natural laws of Trump's world is that something is true unless it can be irrefutably proven false. What's more, Trump must see that proof for himself, on his own desk. In Trump's universe, the POTUS has nothing more important to do than to hand over obscure documents to anyone who demands them. The president is subject to Trump's wishes and must comply with those wishes in a timely fashion. Trump has full authority to give the president an ultimatum in order to gain documents, and possessing these all-important pieces of information will certainly unravel a massive conspiracy. Further, if the result of some process does not align with Trump's personal beliefs, the process is inherently corrupt and should be overthrown. When looked at through this set of principles, Trump's deal with the president seems pretty logical. But there's still that hair. Or rather, that swirling mass of hair-like substance with no ostensible beginning or end. I just can't begin to imagine a universe in which that hair makes sense.

The Observer

Twas the night before Miami

By The Observer · Thursday, Nov. 29, 2012

'Twas the night before Miami, when all through Notre Dame Not a creature was stirring, everyone ready for the game. The cleats were flung by the doorway with care, In hopes that the National Championship soon would be there. The players were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of leprechauns danced in their heads. Brian Kelly in his pajamas holding a nice strong night cap, Had just settled his brain for a long pre-game nap. When out on the deck there arose such a clatter, Bob Diaco sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window Longo flew like a Raven, Tore open the shutters hoping it wasn't Nick Saban. The moon on the breast of the ocean below Gave the luster of mid-day waking up the echo. When, what to Kelly's wondering eyes should appear, But a single sun ray, and a whole bunch of beer. With a big old body, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be Theo Riddick. So up to the stadium the players, they flew, With a bus full of boys, and MantiTe'o too. More rapid than eagles his players they came, And coach whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! "Now Motta! Now, Brindza! Now, Martin and Louis Nix! On, Toma! On, Stockton! On, on Braxton and Hendrix! To the back of the endzone! Through the uprights with the ball! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the sideline Everett Golson came with a bound. He was dressed all in all green, from his head to his feet, And his jersey was soaked with sweat from the Miami heat. For the whole team he had put on his back, And he looked like a student-athlete, just opening his backpack. Jones' eyes - how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, just looking for his next carry! Shembo's little mouth guard was drawn up like a bow, As he tried his best to avoid getting turf toe. Kapron had a broad face and a big round belly, That shook when he laughed, just ask Brian Kelly! Golic was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And Jake laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself! A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon told the crowd they had nothing to dread. Eifert spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And scored lots of touchdowns, which was a huge perk. And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the field Goody goes! He sprang to the endzone, and his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew storming the field like a missile. But I heard Manti exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Champsionship to all, and to all a good-night!" Contact Jane McGraw at jmcgraw1@nd.edu The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

The Observer

Twin times

By The Observer · Thursday, Nov. 29, 2012

People always ask me, "How does it feel to be a twin?" The response I would like to give? "How does it feel to be a person?" The response I actually give? "It's pretty cool." Having an identical twin prompts tons of questions ranging from the logical to the outright foolish. My sister and I receive questions regarding simple things like logistics: "Do you share a room?" to the metaphysical: "What is your twin thinking right now?" These questions have also come up: Who's older? Do you guys fist fight? Who wins? If I punch her, will you feel it? Who's fatter? Will your kids be twins? Have you guys dated twins? Can I take you and your sister to the dance with me? Do you have the same dad? Same mom? How do your parents tell you apart? How do you guys tell each other apart? A woman once broke out into tears as we approached her because she had a twin phobia. Some family members can't tell us apart. On our 13th birthday, my parents confessed to us that we were switched at birth. "Don't worry," they said, "Just switch names from now on." Moments later, I found out they were kidding. It was the strangest three minutes of my life. Sometimes I swear I see people's eyes searching for the scar from our de-conjoining surgery. If you must know, it is on my left, and her right, hip. I'm kidding. But we have done the "conjoined-twin" thing. Being twins and wearing the same color shirt is really conducive to pretending like you're conjoined twins. That was a fun day. While walking around campus, I get random smiles and waves from strangers. I used to think people at Notre Dame were just really friendly, but no, they just know my sister and think I am her. The same thing happens on the opposite end: people who confront me asking why I didn't say hello. My answer? "That wasn't me, that was my twin sister!" It's really convincing. Being a twin is oddly entertaining. When we're in public I always wonder why people are staring at me. Then I remember they're not staring at me, but us. Getting stared at is definitely more uncomfortable than ego boosting and is also extremely noticeable. So is unsolicited picture-taking. We used to switch classes back in high school. It was fun for the first ten minutes, then the fun faded as we realized that we still had to take notes and listen for each other. For a very awkward period in our lives we wore matching clothes. We don't match anymore because, well, that would be extremely weird. Although admittedly, we did go through a phase where we tried to resurrect the matching thing, only to discover that we don't own any identical clothing. I think the dynamic of each twin relationship varies. I've encountered identical twins that want nothing to do with each other and barely make eye contact. I've also encountered twins who cannot be weaned off each other. It is interesting how two people who've lived pretty much the same life can turn out so different. My sister and I have similar personalities and interests. Our majors are different and we are involved in different activities, but for some reason, our paths are always intertwined. Last year we stopped speaking to each other over a petty disagreement. During that silent week, I ran into her in every nook and cranny of campus. Before that incident, we saw each other daily and seldom randomly came across each other. Eventually, it became too awkward so we started speaking again, but I couldn't help but wonder why that happened. Are we really meant to be together? My hope is we'll always be in relatively close proximity to each other; otherwise I couldn't really borrow her clothes. The longest we've ever been apart is eight weeks. We both did a Summer Service Learning Project and they ran congruently. I went to New Jersey and she stayed in South Bend. We didn't go a day without talking to each other and I'm sure I developed a mild case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome from texting nonstop. I was nervous about being separated for so long. Before the SSLP, our longest separation was only four days. However, I managed. We gained more independence and realized that we aren't just "the twins," but two autonomous individuals. The distance really helped us grow closer and our disputes fell to a new low: a near 75 percent decrease, excluding all texting arguments. Being a twin has many more pros than cons. I have an automatic life-long friend, another wardrobe and an endless supply of inside jokes. I wouldn't change it for the world.   Leila Green is a sophomore English major and Portuguese minor. She is also the coordinator of YES, a youth group for at-risk kids in South Bend. If you would like to get involved, she can be reached at lgreen2@nd.edu The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.  

The Observer

Our class, our team, our final chance

By The Observer · Thursday, Nov. 29, 2012

As Notre Dame seniors, we have been through many bumps in the road. We have experienced the final remnants of the Charlie Weis era and the false promise of hope it provided, the heartbreak of a 6-6 season coupled with back-to-back 8-5 performances, and the tragedy of losing one of our own, Declan Sullivan. But we seniors limped into our final season with trust in our team, despite a look down our daunting schedule and the opinion of so-called "experts." As this season progressed our trust has been rewarded but our joy has been mixed once again with heartbreak over the losses experienced by our senior leader, MantiTe'o, and all the trials the senior players have experienced. Counted out from the start, deemed irrelevant, our team has achieved the impossible - a national championship game in Miami. A cause of this performance is found within the senior class, our unity, our strength and the bonds forged between the senior class and our football team. Together we have pushed through our adversity and together we have emerged on the other side, scarred but unbeaten in our final season. It is to the stands that Kapron turns to after a sack. It is to the stands that Manti salutes. It is not a one-way street, for in the team we find our strength. To the field we bring our hopes and dreams. On a crisp Saturday morning, we wake up early for the promise of the game. In our final season, it is the field and the players on it, wearing the brilliant, flashing, gold helmets that reflect the tradition of our University we look to for a unifying force. We have been everywhere around the world, from Ireland to Oklahoma, from Boston to Los Angeles, for our team, for our University. Nowhere else on earth can this type of bond be forged, but in the fires of tradition here at Notre Dame. Nowhere else can this spirit and the unity move a student body to such great heights. And so, now we find ourselves at a crossroads. As students purchase flights and hotels in Miami, we remain hopeful of a ticket, the elusive golden ticket that will allow us to enter the most entrancing of  venues, the National Championship game. As seniors, we have poured our heart and soul out together, players and students, for one final season, one final game. It is to that final game that we seek our one last retribution for the prior tribulations of our careers at Notre Dame. The administration has pledged 2,500 tickets, beyond our wildest expectations. And yet, a source of doubt remains. For there are 2,500 tickets for more than 11,000 undergraduate and graduate students. And recently, we have learned that St. Mary's and Holy Cross students will be allowed to enter the lottery as well, raising that number to more than 14,000 students. Only 2,500 tickets for 14,000 students is entirely unfeasible for granting we seniors a fair chance to cheer our team on to one final victory. We ask from the administration the chance that every Notre Dame senior be allowed to purchase one ticket. No one has earned the right to travel to support the team more than us. What we ask is that every senior have the option of buying one ticket solely under their name, to be picked up on site. For every senior that passes on a ticket, that ticket would be entered into the lottery for the rest of the student body to be purchased. What has allowed our strength and unity to never flag or fail this season is the connection that exists between our players and the Notre Dame student body, especially the bond between our senior class. We eat alongside the players, we live in the same dorms, we take the same classes and we have the same friends. We have pledged our hearts to the team. We have been there through thick and thin, through death and tragedy, through triumph and elation. We have earned the right to represent our University in Miami. We have emerged through all of this as one. We are the senior class. We are family. We are the Fighting Irish. We are ND. Contact Matthew Suarez and Andrew McDonough at msuarez7@nd.edu and amcdono1@nd.edu The views expressed in this column are those of the author sand not necessarily those of The Observer.

The Observer

For Irish haters

By The Observer · Wednesday, Nov. 28, 2012

I realize that the editorial page of The Observer is not the best way to reach you and your brethren, but this is the one publication willing to give me a soapbox.

The Observer

Miami, finals, the apocalypse

By The Observer · Wednesday, Nov. 28, 2012

Sitting, pacing, kneeling before my TV while viewing the ND versus USC game, I detected a marked difference in my stomach from any other game this season. Gone was the comforting illusion that, even if we lost, we'd have time to make up the drop in the rankings in the next weeks. Gone was the therapeutic excuse: "Well, even if we lose, we've far surpassed everyone's expectations." As the Irish took the field, unlike any other game this year, there was nothing I could really feel other than: "It's within our grasp. And there's nothing to do but win." There's something about finality, ultimacy, that brings what's essential into the sharpest focus.

The Observer

Cheering with purpose

By The Observer · Wednesday, Nov. 28, 2012

As a lifelong Notre Dame fan, I strongly identified with a lot of the tendencies John Sandburg described in his column "Why I Cheer." I've probably invested a bit too much in this team over the years, and it's very true that how the team does in Miami this coming January will have an incredible impact on my happiness that seems out of place when you consider the fact that I'm not actually playing in the game. I have to disagree, however, that our cheering "won't make a bit of difference," and that the biggest reason to root for Notre Dame is because doing so allows us to give up control in some aspect of our overly regimented lives. Why cheer for Notre Dame if you're just doing so to give up control? Why not cheer for Alabama, USC or any other team out there? I cheer for Notre Dame because of the tremendous amount of pride I have in my school. I value our mission of merging world-class liberal education and research with a commitment to social justice; when our team takes the field to represent Our Lady's University, they stand as representatives of our University and that mission. I love my school, and it's that pride that makes me want to see the Irish excel not just in football, but in any activity we participate in.  I'll always support representatives of ND. We as fans can also have a tremendous impact through our support. Pretty simply, more cheering creates a louder and more imposing stadium and can force opposing teams into miscues. But more importantly, showing our support for our fellow students demonstrates the unity and familial atmosphere that makes Notre Dame special. We stand with each other, supporting our fellow students as they strive to pursue their goals. In doing so, we create a culture that values togetherness and pride.  Any time I see someone wearing the monogram ND and representing us, I'll gladly stand up and cheer with pride as they show the rest of the world what we're all about. Tom McGuire junior Siegfried Hall Nov. 29  

The Observer

What is a Catholic University?

By The Observer · Wednesday, Nov. 28, 2012

Flannery O'Connor once wrote: "The Catholic novelist doesn't have to be a saint; he doesn't even have to be a Catholic; he does, unfortunately, have to be a novelist." In her essay, "Catholic Novelists and Their Readers," she notes that "poorly written novels - no matter how pious and edifying the behaviour of their characters - are not good in themselves and are therefore not really edifying."

The Observer

A poor argument indeed

By The Observer · Wednesday, Nov. 28, 2012

In the article "A poor argument," Adam Newman argues that poverty is not an excuse for the state of the American school system today. According to Mr. Newman, poverty "has been used by the education establishment to lower the expectations of what schools and teachers can achieve." As minors in the Education, Schooling and Society program, we believe that poverty is an integral part of the web of influences that affect education. It cannot be ignored. Mr. Newman begins his argument by distinguishing between "traditionalists" and "reformers" in the educational debate. We find this categorization problematic and unproductive, in that is implies that "traditionalists" are not advocates of meaningful reforms in the educational system for all students. In fact, both "sides" are trying to reform schooling, just in different ways and informed by different research. Mr. Newman says: "Reformers believe that the best way to improve student outcomes is to provide students with effective teachers and schools, regardless of their background." The policymakers he calls "traditionalists," however, also want all students to have access to quality teachers and schools. They do not believe that background is determinative, but rather that it is important consideration in understanding why achievement gaps persist. The Coleman Report, which is widely considered the most influential education study of the 20th century, concluded that family resources matter more than school quality for academic achievement. Good teachers matter. Still, we believe that poverty has huge consequences for student achievement; conclusions that teacher quality and accountability are all that are needed to "fix" the system lack insight into the forces that shape student achievement.

The Observer

For Irish haters

By The Observer · Wednesday, Nov. 28, 2012

I realize that the editorial page of The Observer is not the best way to reach you and your brethren, but this is the one publication willing to give me a soapbox.

The Observer

For Irish haters

By The Observer · Wednesday, Nov. 28, 2012

I realize that the editorial page of The Observer is not the best way to reach you and your brethren, but this is the one publication willing to give me a soapbox.

The Observer

Why I cheer

By The Observer · Monday, Nov. 26, 2012

I've never written about football before. Never really wanted to, in fact.

The Observer

A dignified Shirt

By The Observer · Monday, Nov. 26, 2012

As the football team's historic regular season comes to a close, it's only fitting to look ahead. One of the most visible elements of each season is The Shirt. This year, Notre Dame joined forces with Alta Gracia in fashioning the annual garb of Irish faithful. For the first time, we were not only clad in a fabulous, spirited garment, but did so while supporting the only factory in the world that pays its laborers a living, family wage. The choice of vendor for next year's Shirt is quickly pressing upon The Shirt committee. I join with workers' rights advocates everywhere in calling upon the committee to continue partnering with Alta Gracia in creating The Shirt for the 2013 football season and to empower otherwise-exploited garment workers by translating our Catholic character into concrete action.

The Observer

Surreal

By The Observer · Monday, Nov. 26, 2012

LOS ANGELES - Surreal. That is seriously the only word I can use to describe the feeling of standing on the field in the middle of our team celebrating a victory over USC. A victory that concluded an undefeated season and a victory that clinched our spot in the national championship game. I've been imagining this my entire life. I grew up in a state without any professional sports teams, and coming from a Notre Dame family, Notre Dame has always been my team. I've watched every single game since I can remember and I've had to deal with all the bashing and negative comments about the irrelevance of the Notre Dame program for most of my life. Still, I've stood by this team through everything, always holding out hope for the time that Notre Dame reemerges. Everything was surreal: Running across the field with the players in Dublin to dancing to The Four Seasons in the student section following a night game victory against Michigan. Being on the sidelines as our defense held off Stanford in an overtime goal line stand and watching as all of my fellow students were able to join in the celebrations as they rushed the field. Then the following week, after a Senior Day shutout, watching as both Oregon and Kansas State fell to put us as No. 1 in the country. Finally, we were only one game away from clinching our spot in the national championship game. Standing on the sidelines for the entire game, my heart was pounding. I had to use all of my power to not cheer since as a photographer, I'm supposed to remain an impartial member of the media. The last five minutes was the most nerve-wracking experience in my life. I just kept watching seconds fall off the clock, every second, one step closer to a national championship. In the final minutes, my heart dropped as I saw USC catch a pass that put the Trojans within the five-yard line. The moment USC dropped the pass on fourth down after nine plays within the five-yard line, I literally jumped up and started cheering, getting numerous disapproving looks from fellow media photographers. I didn't care. I've waited too long for this. I lined up on the sideline waiting for the final minute to run off the clock. As the game finally ended, I rushed the field along with the other journalists to document the celebrations and reactions of the players and coaches. I'm not going to lie, tears of happiness were shed. In 43 days I will be on the field as Notre Dame plays for the national championship. I'm not sure how that game with end, but win or lose, I don't think I could have asked for a better way to end my senior season.  

The Observer

Thanks for ND

By The Observer · Monday, Nov. 26, 2012

Thanksgiving wasn't supposed to be that great. For the first time, I wasn't with my family for the holiday. I decided distance wasn't going to stop some traditions. I made one of the few dishes I know: banana pudding. I had the ingredients and plenty of time. The lack of kitchen utensils didn't deter me. With makeshift items, including my room key as a can opener, I succeeded. I woke up the Malaysian international student down the hall for his first Thanksgiving. I was going to have him watch Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. He answered the door with bed head and a groggy stare. I quickly described giant balloons and a bunch of (poorly) lip syncing singers. His stare turned into a glare. He said, "You Americans," and went back to bed. Later, I ventured to North for the holiday buffet. It was actually pretty good. Our lunch group was comprised of students from coast to coast. We discussed respective Thanksgiving traditions. The Tuesday preceding Thanksgiving, my seminar professor invited the four students staying on campus during the holiday to her home.  On Thursday, her husband picked me and my banana pudding up. The four of us listened to our Professor and her husband's first date story.  A Minnesotan, Virginian, Illinoisan, Arkansan and two Mainers shared thanks, and discussed the upcoming USC game. We then watched "Love Actually" while eating pumpkin cookies, ice cream and banana pudding. After returning to campus, some guys in Alumni invited me to their poker night. I lost. Thanksgiving wasn't supposed to be that great. Yet, I found myself surrounded by friendship and great conversation. Again, Notre Dame proved why it was the right choice. What I thought was going to be a lackluster holiday ended up exceeding my expectations. No, I wasn't in the presence of my uncles discussing football or my aunts coordinating Christmas plans, but I realized I've become a part of a larger family: The ND community. And ultimately, that is something to be truly thankful for. Kyle Witzigman   freshman Morrissey Manor Nov. 23  

The Observer

Why Africana Studies?

By The Observer · Monday, Nov. 26, 2012

Coming to Notre Dame, I had no idea that Africana Studies existed. I did not know until I met Dr. Richard Pierce, former chair of the department. He gave a talk that he gives to every group of athletes in the freshman class. In the midst of lectures on NCAA rules and procedures, Dr. Pierce spoke about what it means to be a student-athlete. But it was less a speech and more a poem, a charge, a call to action, a challenge. He told us, "Don't fear the specter" - the daunting challenges that lie ahead. Some of the challenges are there, motionless, to be surpassed. Some will actively resist, but progress only results in confronting the specter with the full knowledge of its reality. It is a message for everyone, and ultimately, it is the reason I am an Africana Studies major.     In Africana Studies, an important symbol is the Sankofa bird. Sankofa literally means, "to go back and get it" and is associated with the Akan proverb, "It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten." The symbolic bird is portrayed as reaching back into its feathers with its beak, while thrusting its chest forward, indicating the direction of its forward motion. The protrusion of the chest exposes the most vital part of the bird. It signifies that the bird is vulnerable in the present, but that the quest for truth is still necessary. The bird's feathers represent that truth, a source of self-criticism and analysis. The talons of the bird are gripping the earth firmly, signifying that this quest is rooted in history. Inferred from the symbol of the bird is the concept that the past influences the present, in order to move forward and think about the future.   Isn't this ultimately the challenge that education provides? Two prominent Africana Studies scholars state that education "dispels ignorance, bolsters courage and gives insight into the important social phenomena that shape human relationships." The Sankofa bird is the embodiment of one who does not fear the challenges of a self-critical education. Africana Studies is a series of courses that acts as a set of practical applications for discovering and addressing one's own socializations. It forces students to tear down preconceived notions of Africa and the diaspora, providing the wisdom necessary to move forward in the pursuit of justice. It forces students to confront their own internal prejudices in examining African and African-American influence on multiple facets of society. Rather than simply administering course material that is the expansion of a body of knowledge about the world and the way it functions, the African and African-American experience as a course of study is an inherently socially and politically active experience. It is prophetic and a social corrective without being self-exculpatory. Africana Studies is inherently prophetic as a basis to better understand the world, and one's own socializations and how they impact perspective of this world. The combination of this understanding creates an indissoluble and formidable platform to move from the way the world is to the way the world should be.   We have to go back for what we have forgotten, whether that is a previous relationship or mode of understanding. We have to be willing to see the world as it was, because our current environment is a product of that world. If we are truly going to make progress as a society, we must be agents moving forward in our pursuit of justice but always being grounded in the realities of the past and present. Africana Studies focuses on agency in human history by creating the space for the voices of those silenced throughout the historical process and silenced by the dominant paradigms in which we are socialized, a study rewarding in and of itself. Africana Studies stresses respect for each individual and his or her diversity, addresses the lack of appreciation for and knowledge of other cultures within academia and the need for a social and corrective dimension within education and establishes multicultural education as a tool for one to learn to be comfortable in the midst of paradigm shifts.    Symbolically, the most important part of the Sankofa bird is its vulnerability, and its pursuit for truth nonetheless. One of the most frightening moments in our lives is when the pillars of our socializations upon which we rely for our bearings and paradigms are no longer veiled in a mythical past untouchable to the inquiry of the mind and crumble down until what is left is the foundation and soul of humanity. Upon that foundation we can build. This moment is the most frightening, but it is also the most liberating. Africana Studies begins this process. Africana Studies in and of itself is a call to action and a challenge of self-analysis. No matter how frightening, it is a task we must undertake. Indeed, we must not fear the specter. Alex Coccia is a junior Africana and Peace Studies major and a Gender Studies minor. He appreciates classroom conversations in Black Politics in Multiracial America.  He can be reached at acoccia@nd.edu         The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.  

The Observer

Where there is life, there is hope

By The Observer · Monday, Nov. 26, 2012

Like most of my Viewpoint columns this year, I drew the inspiration for this one from a conversation I had. I was discussing abortion (big surprise) with someone who did not share my opinion on the subject (another big surprise). This conversation went much better than they usually do, which I attribute to the honesty and open-mindedness of my interlocutor. At one point, she made an interesting and unusual argument by supposing that the fetus is a human person, but that it would still be better for that person to be aborted than to be born into the situation that the children of parents considering abortion find themselves in.   Her argument went something like this: A child's parent or parents consider abortion because they are not prepared to take care of the child and/or because they do not want to at that time. Therefore, if that child was born instead of aborted, its parents would not love it adequately, causing it lasting emotional and psychological harm. Because of their difficult financial and other circumstances, they would also not be able to provide it adequate education, health care, nutrition and enrichment activities like music, art and sports. All in all, the child would grow up unfulfilled and unhappy. Therefore, it would be better if that child had not lived in the first place. There are a few obvious responses to this argument. One could say that it is presumptuous and wrong to claim that people born into difficult situations cannot overcome the circumstances of their birth to lead happy and successful lives. Rising from rags to riches is what America is all about. I am not equating happiness with financial success, either. Those who are born poor and remain poor can still achieve more meaningful fulfillment than they could find in money. I also believe that the same holds true for sickness. Today, when doctors identify an irreparable birth defect in the womb, they almost always advise the parents to abort. If they asked the parents of these children who were not aborted whether or not they consider the birth of their child a blessing and a joy, however, I bet that the parents' answers would not be unanimous "no's." I myself have made the mistake of arguing on these very pages that someone should be denied an opportunity because it would put him in too difficult of a situation. I would be easy for me to dismiss this line of reasoning as another instance of that. Anyone who believes in Christianity must take this argument seriously, however, because the Bible does. In the book of Job, God's faithful servant curses the day he was born. Job suffers so terribly that it makes all the good things he has experienced in life seem insignificant by comparison. He wishes God had never given him a family, land, herds or even life itself because the joy he gained from all these things only served to heighten the pain he experienced when God took them away. God restores Job's happiness at the end of the book, but he doesn't always do that in real life. For every example of a person who overcomes difficult circumstances to succeed, there is another example of a person who plunges from happiness into despair like Job. Should we grant the potential Jobs in society their wish by ensuring that those who are most likely to experience terrible suffering are never born? I don't think so. Job's story makes one crucial point that I have not yet discussed: Anyone, perhaps especially those to whom God has given the most, can fall on hard times like Job. We cannot predict the outcomes of people's lives with any kind of certainty. Even if we use our most sophisticated statistical methods to determine that a given person has a 99 percent chance of dying of multiple stab wounds in jail while experiencing heroin withdrawal, there is still a one percent chance that this person could live a happy life. Likewise, many of those who are born with every advantage end up suffering terrible misfortunes. Just as we cannot predict the outcomes of other people's lives, we cannot predict our own, either. Some of us may already have struggled with difficulties like those the children of parents considering abortion face. Even if we have avoided these challenges, we have no assurance that this will continue for the rest of our lives, or that the other difficulties we face will not bring us even more suffering (and more opportunity for triumph). We cannot divide human life into "life worth living" and "life not worth living." Wherever there is life, there is hope, so if there is hope for us, there is hope for the unborn, too. Elliott Pearce can be reached at Elliott.A.Pearce.12@nd.edu         The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.  

The Observer

Kent's mix

By The Observer · Monday, Nov. 26, 2012

Kent and I have the same exact taste in music. I know that is a bold statement to make, but I stand by it. The only interesting part about it all is the fact that I have never met Kent. Now before this sounds like another freaky virtual relationship that would be cracked on "Catfish," let me explain the story.

The Observer

Voices of love

By The Observer · Monday, Nov. 26, 2012

When I was a kid, I thought the music my parents listened to was boring. So whenever I found myself without something to do, I would crank up the VHS player, go to the cabinet and reach for my favorite tape: "Peter, Paul and Mary in Concert." I would sit on the floor, head in my hands, and watch (with occasional dance breaks) as PP&M sang songs like "Puff the Magic Dragon" and "If I Had a Hammer." I watched that video countless times, so many times, in fact, that I could proudly give minute-by-minute breakdowns of what was coming next.

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