A recommended link to a VANITY FAIR Story this month from Touchstone Magazine - Mere Comments by Wilfred McCoy
Ignore most of the comments that were left at Touchstone; as usual, people forget that being human is about relationships, not politics, and missed the most important lessons here. At most, the comments are irrelevant and at worst, unkind, bordering on hubris, wondering how they missed the part they and Arthur Miller all belong to the same species: Human.
Your time is better spent reading the whole story at VANITY FAIR, and skipping MC. commentors, who prove why Christ admonishes us against judging others: none of us stand a chance in the inhumane smugness that lies at the heart of each one of us.
If they have been in similar situations as Miller and acted more nobly, then good for them. If their only experience with raising a mentally disabled child is watching a lifetime movie of the week, their words would be better put to use in asking for forgiveness for us all
“...It would be easy to judge Arthur Miller harshly, and some do. For them, he was a hypocrite, a weak and narcissistic man who used the press and the power of his celebrity to perpetuate a cruel lie. But Miller's behavior also raises more complicated questions about the relationship between his life and his art. A writer, used to being in control of narratives, Miller excised a central character who didn't fit the plot of his life as he wanted it to be. Whether he was motivated by shame, selfishness, or fear—or, more likely, all three—Miller's failure to tackle the truth created a hole in the heart of his story. What that cost him as a writer is hard to say now, but he never wrote anything approaching greatness after Daniel's birth. One wonders if, in his relationship with Daniel, Miller was sitting on his greatest unwritten play...”
from: VANITY FAIR Reporter Suzanna Andrews September, 2007
Arthur Miller's Missing Act
For all the public drama of Arthur Miller's career—his celebrated plays (including Death of a Salesman and The Crucible), his marriage to Marilyn Monroe, his social activism—one character was absent: the Down-syndrome child he deleted from his life.