Certain stories have a morbid -- and irresistible -- fascination, including those about contemporary people afflicted with diseases that once terrorized nations, but now exist primarily in history books. Such is the case with a

earlier this month while trying to separate a mouse from a stray cat. Many people, we suspect, responded by asking, "People still get that?"

Apparently so.

While the plague is, admittedly, an extreme example of the phenomenon, we tend to forget eventually about the ravages of certain diseases after they've been tamped down by modern medicine and public health measures. But many of them are still around and capable of causing serious problems. Such is the case with tuberculosis, which has evolved a frightening resistance to drugs. And it's certainly the case with the various diseases for which children are routinely vaccinated.

Sadly, many people have come to fear the vaccines more than the diseases themselves, which is an ironic consequence of success. If you don't see kids sickened by whooping cough, for instance, you tend to forget that it can be deadly.

While

complying with Oregon's law is largely a matter of choice. State law allows people not to immunize their children for religious reasons, but the applicable rule defines religion as "any system of beliefs, practices or ethical values."

In other words, whatever.

Provide a giant loophole like this, and people will use it, as they have in Oregon with increasing regularity. During the 2006-07 school year, only 3.7 percent of the state's kindergarten students were exempted from one or more of the required vaccinations, which cover such diseases as polio, measles and pertussis, also known as whooping cough. The rate has climbed every year since and was 5.8 percent for the 2011-12 school year, according to Stacy de Assis Matthews, school law coordinator with the Oregon Health Authority Immunization Program. Rates in Clackamas (6.6 percent) and Multnomah (7.6 percent) were higher than the state average, and the rate in Washington County (3.8 percent) was significantly lower.

To be sure, the exemption rate includes both religious and medical exemptions, which apply to kids who can't be immunized for health reasons. But only 0.2 percent of kindergartners had medical exemptions during the 2011-12 year, according to Matthews, while the vast majority -- 5.6 percent -- had religious exemptions. In all, roughly 2,650 kindergartners in Oregon were inadequately vaccinated that year.

So, why do all of these numbers matter? In part, kids who haven't been vaccinated are more likely than others to contract nasty diseases. Also, because people who can't be vaccinated, whether because they have health problems or are too young, rely upon people around them not to pass along illnesses like whooping cough, which is on the upswing.

As of early this week, the state had tracked 380 cases of whooping cough so far this year, which is about three times last year's infection rate, according to Dr. Paul Cieslak, medical director of the Oregon Immunization Program. While the pertussis vaccine isn't perfect -- it's about 80 percent effective -- and does lose effectiveness gradually, it does create "herd" protection for the most vulnerable, including infants.

And that's a good thing. About half of all infants who contract pertussis end up in the hospital, says Cieslak. From 2007-2011, the rate of reported pertussis infection among infants younger than two months old -- who are too young to be immunized -- was more than 10 times higher than the rate among infants between 6 and 11 months. The younger group relies entirely upon herd immunity.

One response to Oregon's upward trend is to tighten the law, as

by requiring people who object to vaccinating their kids for philosophical reasons to get a doctor's note. The law requires the doctor to explain the risks of nonvaccination, not to approve a parent's bad decision, which means that those who oppose vaccines -- and their doctors -- face a bureaucratic hassle that provides no real obstacle.

Nonetheless, such a hassle is worthwhile, as it forces a conversation between parents and doctors about the benefits and risks of vaccines. Parents tend to respond well when medical providers explain such material, says Dr. Gary Oxman, public health officer for Multnomah, Clackamas and Washington counties.

But the latest research indicates they respond particularly well to the advice of other parents in their informal networks, says Oxman. Vaccination is a politically sensitive issue, and many people are understandably reluctant to bring it up. If Oxman's right, though, well-intentioned people can help reverse the exemption trend without the Legislature's help.

Vaccines required by law are not dangerous, regardless of what the Internet fringe might think. They're among the "most well-studied products out there," says Cieslak, and fewer than one in a million doses results in an allergic reaction or neurologic problem. Meanwhile, the risks of saying "no" are real -- especially to vulnerable populations.

Given an accurate account of risks and benefits, especially from their peers, we suspect fewer Oregonians would avoid vaccinations like the plague and give more thought to the diseases they prevent and the vulnerable people whose safety hinges upon the responsible behavior of others.