BobbyG's Blog

All I ever wanted to do was play guitar for a living


Las Vegas, Nevada, USA
February 09
All I ever wanted to do was play guitar for a living.
Quantitative analyst and writer, mostly. Primus inter pares Santa Fe fan, bookworm, statistician, SAS programmer, teacher, perpetual student, musician, songwriter, photographer, 2 guard (Mr. No-Hops, a.k.a. "old school"), skier, loyal husband, father, grandfather, friend. DISCLAIMER (06/25/09): has chosen to force unsolicited advertising directly into our blog posts, without consent or warning. We have no say in the matter -- with respect to either ad content or placement, -- nor do we make any money from them. I in no way endorse what they pitch on my pages. You may be able to use AdBlock Plus to block such things.


JUNE 25, 2009 2:15AM

Richard Nixon wanted my daughter aborted

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Tapes Reveal Nixon Pro-Mixed Race Abortions

Tape recordings of former US President Richard Nixon have revealed that he believed abortion was "necessary" in mixed race pregnancies.

Nixon's bizarre comments are contained in hundreds of hours of tapes he made while in the White House which have now been released by his presidential library.

After the US Supreme Court had ruled abortion legal, Nixon tells aide Charles Colson: "I admit, there are times when abortions are necessary, I know that."

He then gave "a black and a white" as an example...


Let me respond to that revelation with an excerpt from a 2008 blog post of mine



There's a maxim among trial lawyers: "He with the best story wins." So, perhaps a closing anecdote is in order to bring the grand abstract reproductive "rights" moral issue down to eye level, so indulge me a short story.

The year is 1969, the place, suburban Seattle. A young couple chafes within the throes of an ill-advised (and ultimately doomed) marriage. They have an infant girl, on whom the young father joyfully dotes. The one unequivocally bright spot. Parenthood, at least, suits him, so it seems. 

The young wife announces one day that she is again pregnant. But, while the husband is thrilled at the news, she exudes an inexplicable anxious and distant air. In the subsequent weeks, her smoldering anxiety morphs into a controlled state of cornered panic, and the devastating truth must finally be aired one night; she had had a recent transient sexual dalliance, and this unwanted pregnancy is almost certainly the upshot. To make matters even more complex, the cuckolding paramour is a black man (this couple is white).

Thermonuclear agonies ensue, regarding which, words utterly fail.

The young woman is beyond frantic to obtain an abortion (circumstances being exacerbated by the fact that her own father is an overt racist), but, this being an era prior to Rove vs Wade, abortions are proscribed by law in Washington state. Her subsequent attempts to procure one illegally fail, and she realizes she will have to carry this fetus to term. 

She is then advised by state social services agencies that she may indeed relinquish the newborn sight-unseen for adoption, and wishes to opt for that alternative to end this nightmare, however imperfectly. This, though, requires the husband's written assent, which, for reasons not entirely clear to him, he declines to provide. In part, one can safely assume, hoping against hope that this is all a cruel, horrific dream, and the child will in fact prove to be biologically his.

An uneventful delivery obtains in the hospital in Renton in July of 1970, a 7 lb. 6 oz. healthy baby girl. The young man hesitantly approaches the glass partition of the nursery unit. The moment of truth in a glance:'Nope, well, this is definitely not your child.' A fleeting, wracked feeling of being summarily dropped down an open elevator shaft gives way within seconds to a subsequent flustered internal flurry:

'Now what? Whatever will become of this child? None of this shit is her fault...'

He turns and heads down the hall to the office, whereupon he signs the requisite parental paperwork. He will be her "father." Not even legally her "adoptive father," simply her father, DNA be damned. His bigoted father-in-law be damned. Subsequent hushed gossip and furtive glances within his social cohort be damned. 

Fast forward four years to a Clark County, Washington courtroom. The young man is granted an uncontested divorce, along with sole custody of his two girls. The henceforth ex-wife does not attend the hearing.

Fast forward yet again. Knoxville, Tennessee a decade later, a dining room discussion ensues during which the younger daughter learns for the first time the full story.

"Thanks, Dad, you saved my life." 

They laugh. It is good.


The foregoing is no mere illustrative fictional anecdote conjured up for emotional impact. I am that father.

Father to a young woman, now approaching age 38 at this writing, who has gone on to obtain a Master's degree and a position as the highly successful local Executive Director of a major non-profit youth golf organization, following lengthy prior stints as a hospital chaplain, and a wildly successful grantwriter for a national social services foundation.

Proud grandfather to her amazing son, now 14, who had become ranked 43rd in the nation in his U.S. Tennis Association age division by the time he was 12, and who has just been awarded a full-ride private high school scholarship in recognition of his ongoing honor student academic track record.

While such achievements and accolades are really just the icing on the cakes (my love for my kids is unconditional), I am today the proud papa of offspring who bring so much good, and so much joy, to my life and to our world. 

We laugh. All the time. It is good.

DNA is simply irrelevant.

I shudder to think what I would have missed. I am blessed to be the father that I am.


 Where is this man buried? Ahhh...never mind. Withdrawn. I yield to themadgreek's observation.



My grandson is now a senior at Windermere Prep near Orlando, on a full-ride boarding scholarship. He interviewed with Harvard today.

Auntie Sissy would be so proud.

 UPDATE: Keebo heads to college



NOTE: I apologize for the embedded ad below, now forced on us on June 25th without advance warning by Not my doing, and not within my power to delete. Click here to voice your objection to Open Salon regarding this commercial encroachment should you wish to.

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If they were writing the bible today, your story would belong in there.
This is a truly moving story. And the most wonderful thing is that you had no question about your role.....the reward of her eventual successes is not the point, although it is a joy, but it lies in you, the main hero of the story....
I continue to be amazed at the people who populate OS. This story is an affirmation of, no, the very definition of, love.

I am sorry that such ugliness (personified in Nixon's words) exists.
This is a wonderful story. (Well, not the part about Nixon, he's never wonderful.)
Outstanding. It proves in life that it pays to be gladddddddd. However, it's a quantum leap to piss on Nixon's or anyone else's grave, as it is taken in the emotional & rhetorical. Really. Such a wonderful story until the grave pissing remark. BTW, Danielle is beaming. You are blessed and well versed in the pro choice/life paradox of humanity. Unless you're getting a cut of the action, I also object to the f*cking ad posted by oPeN sAlOn. There were new terms of service also banged out the same day, I believe. Icemilkcoffee is right. This story is biblical as the Bible is filled with stories of joy, redemption, forgiveness and salvation.
@themadgreek -

Thanks. It was simply a rhetorical gut reaction to Nixon's racist mendacity.
November 2011 update:

Keenan interviewed with Harvard two weeks ago, one of more than a dozen schools interested in him.