We were driving up the two-lane highway that runs from Williams, Arizona, to the south rim of the Grand Canyon, on a trip to celebrate our son's graduation from college.
This highway runs through a rolling prairie land that dips and climbs so that sometimes a driver can see for miles ahead and sometimes for only a few dozen feet.
The distance that you could see and the condition of the road that afternoon were also affected by massive thunderclouds that swept in from the Northwest and, here and there, let loose torrents of rain.
Nonetheless, depending on the immediate terrain, the cars on this two-lane road were traveling at anywhere from 65 to 80 miles per hour. It was toward the end of a stretch where most were driving near the latter speed that a vehicle pulled closely behind us. It then suddenly swerved into the oncoming lane, sped past us and came back into our lane not far in front us.
This car then raced toward the back of a motorhome that was approaching a rise in the road beyond which we could not see. The height and width of the motorhome made it impossible to tell whether there was a car or even a long string of cars driving in the same lane in front of it.
The rise in the road also made it impossible to know if there were cars approaching in the oncoming lane.
This did not matter to whoever was driving the car that had passed us. It now swerved into the oncoming lane to pass the motorhome.
Then a car did come over the rise in the oncoming lane.
Would there be a head-on collision?
As soon as the driver in the oncoming car saw the reckless vehicle speeding toward him, he started to pull onto the narrow shoulder.
Recommended
The reckless driver then pumped his break and pulled back in behind the motorhome. But when his car hit the top of the rise, he immediately pulled back into the oncoming lane. We could not see over the rise and did not know how much space he now had to pass the motorhome.
But when we topped that rise at our own prudent speed, we thankfully saw no pileup of cars on the other side.
Not long after that, we arrived at the entrance to Grand Canyon National Park. We then had to sit in a long line of cars to show a ranger our pass.
How much time had that reckless driver saved in arriving at this unavoidable stopping point? Was he two minutes ahead of us? Three? Maybe four?
Clearly, whatever time he had saved was not worth the risk he had imposed on himself and others.
Not long after passing through the entrance to the park, we arrived at a parking lot near the canyon's rim. When we got out of the car and started walking toward the rim, I heard a little boy -- perhaps 2 or 3 years of age -- screeching with joy as he ran along the rim-side trail ahead of his trailing mother.
I could not look over at them.
Within a few feet of where this boy was running, there was a stretch of canyon rim where no barrier had been erected. Beyond that rim was a cliff that fell for thousands of feet.
I had seen a similar incident a few years ago when I had previously visited the Grand Canyon. Then, a young mother had her baby attached to her chest in a knapsack. She walked and climbed all the way out to a pinnacle of rock standing over the abyss. She tripped slightly as she approached the very edge of the cliff -- but she did not fall.
What was her purpose in taking her baby to within inches of that precipice? She wanted to get her picture taken there.
Would that photo be that much better than one taken 5 feet back? Was the risk she ran for herself and her baby worth whatever aesthetic advantage she got from those extra 5 feet -- 5,000 feet above the Colorado River?
These incidents at the Grand Canyon reminded me of the liberal establishment's reaction to Florida's Parental Rights in Education Act that Gov. Ron DeSantis signed into law last year. "The bill," says an analysis published by the Florida House of Representatives, "prohibits instruction on sexual orientation or gender identity in kindergarten through grade 3 or in a manner that is not age-appropriate or developmentally appropriate for students."
Liberal politicians and the liberal media have insisted on referring to this as the "Don't Say Gay" law. When it was enacted, for example, the Associated Press published a story headlined "'Don't Say Gay' bill signed by Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis."
Yet, by enacting this law, DeSantis and the Florida state legislature are building a safety barrier at the edge of a moral Grand Canyon. It is a scientific fact that the human species has two sexes: male and female. To tell a child that a male can be a female is to deny the true nature of God's creation. Encouraging this fantasy that denies the natural law is like letting a child run recklessly along the edge of a canyon.
Gravity cannot be denied any more than genetics.
Those who seek to justify, promote and celebrate transgenderism among school children resemble the parents who put their children at risk along the rim of the Grand Canyon. They are disregarding the laws of nature.
The so-called LGBTQ movement celebrates this point of view with a manmade rainbow flag.
When that thunderstorm had blown past the Grand Canyon last weekend, the sun came through the clouds and a magnificent natural rainbow rose up from the canyon floor.
That rainbow -- which did not deny the natural order but affirmed it -- was made by God. The rainbow on the flag of the LGBTQ movement -- which now advocates pretending little boys are girls -- is a manmade fraud.
Join the conversation as a VIP Member