Another piece of Fayetteville disappears: sign in front of Fayetteville Women’s Clinic vanishes overnight? | Street Jazz

Another piece of Fayetteville disappears: sign in front of Fayetteville Women’s Clinic vanishes overnight?



I’ve been taking photographs for my new book of late, finding images that represent - to me, at least - Fayetteville at its finest. As Tracy and I drove by Doctor William Harrison’s now closed Fayetteville Women’s Clinic on Friday, I resolved to return the next day and take a picture of both the clinic and the ever-encouraging sign on front that said,

Pray for Safe, Legal Abortion

For a long time, those opposed to women having any say in what happens with their own bodies have been picketing the office, holding prayer vigils across the street. Could the sign have been taken as a grim trophy by a “pro-lifer” who feels that Bill Harrison’s death is somehow a “victory” in their war on women’s rights?

Was it taken by someone who felt the absence of a man like like Harrison so keenly that they needed their own, private reminder that he was often the hope of resort for so many women?

Well, I suppose the reason itself doesn’t matter. I’m sorry to sign go, though I knew it must have eventually, as the building couldn’t stay empty forever.

It meant something, even to a lot of people who didn’t need his services, that Bill Harrison had the courage and integrity to keep the clinic running for so many years.


Quote of the Day

"Our citizens may be deceived for awhile, and have been deceived; but as long as the presses can be protected, we may trust to them for light." —Thomas Jefferson to Archibald Stuart. 1799.


About those suicidal deer . . .

Reading about the deer/pick-up accident in the Northwest Arkansas Times this morning made me remember one night 30 years ago when I was living with a courier for Porolator (remember them? Before Federal Express?) who hit a deer on one of her nightly routes to Eureka Springs.

Believing in the old adage of “Waste not, want not,” she leapt from her vehicle and managed to get the dead deer into the back and finished her route.

She woke me up at 3am, and she taught me the finer points of skinning and dressing a deer in the bathtub, which as close to hunting as I’ve ever been, thank you very much.

A former barrel racer, she also taught me how to lasso, which is a skill I am sure will come in handy at some point in my life, though it hasn’t just yet.

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