I once blocked a federal-court doorway to protest the war in Iraq. For my act of civil disobedience, I spent a week in Philadelphia’s federal prison. Afterward I brought the newspaper clippings about my arrest to a family reunion in a Tennessee state park and hung them conspicuously on a wall in the main cabin, anticipating that some of my relatives would disapprove.
Instead everyone threw me a surprise party and presented me with a gift: a large metal file, so I could saw my way out the next time. Those who disagreed with me were as gracious as the rest, and all honored me for standing up for what I believed in. I was both moved and chagrined: I wouldn’t have given them such a warm reception had they been arrested for blocking the door to an abortion clinic.
