Green Oasis

Is voluntary eugenics based on sound science still evil?

I just received an email from a former missionary with whom I served in the New York Rochester Mission. They’re planning a mission reunion for the summer of 2009 in Huntsville, Utah. We haven’t had a reunion in years, but this presents me with a quandary: should I attend a mission reunion?

On the one hand, it would be interesting to catch up with old friends, and I could also use it as an excuse to visit family in the area. On the other hand, I can only imagine the potential for uncomfortable situations.

Elder Blake, would you offer a prayer on our refreshments?

me: Well, you see, it’s like this.…

Should I go and hope it never comes up? Would it even be worth the risk of spoiling the event for everyone? I guess I have a long time to think about it.

Don’t you hate when your children get hopped up on Kool-Aid and cookies, act out in front of their grandparents, and ransack your purse for sugar money?

Well actually, sugar does not make kids hyperactive. Yet another example of failed folk wisdom.

A recent Penny Arcade comic asked a question that comes to me once in a while.

Pictures of naked women used to be somewhat hard to come by. When I was a kid, we would occasionally find an adult magazine which would be quickly passed among the neighborhood kids. The magazine became a deliciously forbidden sacrament for a spontaneous cabal of children learning what it was to be sexually aroused. The shame of our society inflamed our desire in a heady cocktail of sex, guilt, and danger. We would each partake, constantly vigilant to prevent the infidel grownups from desecrating our secret explorations.

Twice in my young life we found treasure troves of nudity: once we found our neighbor’s huge porn stash in his backyard; another time I rescued a trash bag full of 1970s era Playboy magazines from imminent disposal. Through all the guilt of our naughty behavior, we cherished those magazines. We hid them carefully where no grownup was likely to ever go: in the disused, unkempt corners of our neighborhood only the children paid attention to. Every once in a while, we would furtively visit our caches with glances over our shoulders to enjoy the urgency of desire. We were careful because we knew it might be years before we found another opportunity like these.

At other times, we would turn our explorations on each other. Thick bushes provided a place to play “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours”. I first saw a naked, in-the-flesh girl (who wasn’t a member of my family) in those bushes. A vacant house provided a chance to play strip tag. The rules were simple: if the person who is “it” touched a piece of your clothing, you had to take it off. I saw my first naked, in-the-flesh, postpubescent girl in that vacant house.

All of this before I was ten years old, knew what “horny” meant, or had discovered masturbation.

The point is that I remember these incidents vividly and fondly because they were 1) forbidden and 2) rare.

Not so anymore. You have to work hard to avoid seeing five vaginae before lunch. I mean people are giving the stuff away for free. I wonder whether the relative ease of getting porn is better or worse.

Would I have preferred a childhood where it was easy to see naked women?

LSD: My Problem Child by Albert Hofmann