By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
I find it supremely ironic that feelings, those uncomfortable things that Charlotte Taft bravely helped women address for years concerning the difficult decision to abort or continue a pregnancy, were what forced her to resign under siege from Routh Street Women's Clinic. To be specific, Dr. Lea Braun's inability or unwillingness to confront and resolve his own feelings of financial nervousness led to the temper tantrum that forced Ms. Taft out. Maybe Dr. Braun should get some Taft-style gentle, unhurried counseling.
The larger tragedy, of course, than the surely temporary loss of Ms. Taft to the women's reproductive health field, is that this incident is the quintessence of what is wrong with our so-called health care system. (I say so-called because it is not healthy, and the only systematic part of it is how poor people are denied care.) When profits and human needs collide, guess what loses.
Health care is a right. Let's act like it.
Son of a preacher man
Perhaps Robert Wilonsky should do some research before spouting off about his most despised band du jour [Street Beat, May 18]. Surely a journalist of his caliber could have discovered that Zac Maloy, lead singer of the Nixons, is a preacher's son from a small town in Oklahoma. Perhaps that is why their music is "loaded with religious icons and references."
I have to agree that the Nixons send out mixed messages, but any fact-finding mission on Wilonsky's part would find the source of that confusion to be Maloy's upbringing. I think Maloy has grown up questioning, "Is there a God?"
Is there? Who hasn't pondered that age-old question? We are obviously confused, and that's what Maloy's songs are all about. Music isn't always self-explanatory. The beauty of music is that it makes you think and question what you know.
Country's pretty boy
You seem to bemoan commercialism in country music by trashing Ty Herndon's first effort ["Thank God he's a pretty boy," April 27]. I am neither a fan nor a detractor of Mr. Herndon, but I do contend that the noncommercial song has never been recorded.
Recorded music is commercial. Why, Mr. Wilonsky, do you think music of any kind is recorded? To give away? To lose money? Recorded music may be profound, sugary, silly, dispassionate, disposable, dissonant, desperate, dissolute, distinctive, or downright dumb. But it is all commercial.
Adventures on the far right
It's ironic and appropriate that articles addressing Al Adask and Richard Armey were in the same issue ["True believers" and "The improbable rise of Richard Armey," May 4]. Your writers found many of the reasons which caused me to oppose these two men in the 1994 congressional race for District 26.
Armey is clearly a recognized political leader of the far right. He has actively worked on behalf of this faction's positions on education reform and restrictions on individual freedoms throughout his rise to political power. "They" know how we should live and are busy making sure we conform to their ideals. Voters in recent Richardson and Plano school board races spoke out strongly against this agenda. It is time for everyone else to wake up.
By the way, Armey delights in denouncing demagoguery while he practices the art form at its highest level.
LeEarl Ann Bryant
Mi Familia is that rarity of rarities--a genuinely entertaining film that just happens to be about Mexican-Americans. The film itself is so good it even lives up to Matt Zoller Seitz's praise ["America, America," May 11].
See it once. See it twice. See it as often as possible. Consider Mi Familia the ultimate protest against Hollywood Hispanophobia. Let's face it. The only thing that keeps Hollywood stereotypers in business is the fact that people make money off their stereotypes. What more poetic justice is there than to suggest to the Establishment that there is more money to be made not catering to Hispanophobia that there is in encouraging it?
Helping to make Mi Familia a success at the box office is certainly a more positive accomplishment than simply shaking one's fist in the direction of Howard Stern. And more entertaining, tambien.
Rogelio Mendoza, Jr.