Somehow I’m on the mail list of a person who does not believe in vaccination. He sends me all kinds of scientifically illiterate tripe about the dangers of that well-proven science. Of course, his messages are followed by dozens of responses from “friends” near and far. A few disagree with him, but most add more nonsense. I rarely comment, but the other day I appended: “Someone said ‘Love your neighbor.’ You should try it.”

Because one purpose of vaccination — perhaps the most important purpose — is to prevent widespread epidemics by immunizing enough “neighbors.” Contagious diseases spread from person to person. Vaccination slows or, hopefully, short circuits the process by dramatically reducing the number of individuals who carry live organisms responsible for specific diseases.

Some of us remember when childhood diseases spread through neighborhoods like wildfire through fields of dry weeds. When one classmate missed school because of chicken pox, measles, mumps or whooping cough, he or she was sure to be followed by other classmate absenteeism over coming weeks or even months. Teachers cautioned students to be “thoughtful” by staying home when symptoms first appeared. In other words, “love your neighbor.” At the homes of infected students, county health personnel hung signs near the front door that proclaimed: “Quarantined.” The signs were not to help the afflicted — too late for that — but to tell neighbors and visitors they should use caution when approaching the residence.

The worst memories, of course, are of the polio epidemics of the 1940s and ‘50s. Polio was — and is — a frightening disease. Because of polio epidemics, public swimming pools were closed during hot summer months (long before air conditioning and backyard pools). Other public events were cancelled. Some schools closed for limited periods. The disease touched many neighborhoods. People had friends who were in iron lungs or wore braces or could no longer walk without limping. For most youngsters — myself included — it was a time of almost constant fear. I would awake during the night with an arm “gone to sleep” or a leg hurting. I was convinced that I had polio. I feared that I, too, would soon be confined to an iron lung. Most of us cut back severely on indoor social activities and outdoor activities, also. We limited person-to-person contact at the very time in life when social interactions are vital to normal development.

Finally, a bright researcher by the name of Dr. Jonas Salk developed a vaccine that protected recipients from developing polio. It seemed to take forever for the scientific community to test and re-test the vaccine — and even longer for the political structure to approve it for general use — but in April 1955 the Salk vaccine was approved for public application. Parents rushed to get their children vaccinated. Scientists even developed a form of vaccine that could be incorporated in a sugar cube, thereby lowering resistance to the vaccine by those who feared the jab of a needle.

It’s easy for those who have never been traumatized by the threat of an epidemic to make irrational, uninformed comments about vaccination. It’s easy for them to post stupid remarks about issues they clearly don’t understand. It’s easy for them to be misled by the loud voices of ignorant attention grabbers. And it’s easy for them to forget that living in a free society brings with it certain responsibilities toward family, friends and neighbors.

Clearly, my e-mail friend is one of those who — thanks to more thoughtful neighbors — was spared the trauma of widespread epidemics. I suppose I should reason with my anti-vax friend, but it seems a bit futile to offer truth to someone who has already rejected science, experience, common sense and caring about his neighbors.

Don Gale learned from experience both the challenge of living through a number of disease epidemics and the relief of knowing his own children did not experience such frightening events thanks to science and thoughtful neighbors.

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