Image provided by: Texas A&M University
About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Aug. 18, 1982)
opinion Battalion/Psfi August 18,1! The meter reader cometh to get ye Editor’s note: Art Buchwald is recycling some of his best columns whilst he and his family soak up the sun and enjoy the soft sea breeze of the Falkland Islands, other wise known as “Maggie’s Vineyard.’’ by Art Buchwald In all the fuss about the energy shor tage, no one has mentioned the meter reader. When I say the meter reader, I mean the person who comes to your house to read your electric meter. For years, no one had paid any atten tion to him. He would ring your doorbell and yell, “Meter reader here to read your meter!”, and you’d let him in and he would disappear, and when he returned, you’d shout at him rudely, “Shut the door when you leave!” But now he has become the most im portant person in the lives of many of us. Just the other day, we were all eating dinner when the doorbell rang. My son answered the ring, and came into the di ning room, his face white. “It’s the meter reader. He wants to read our meter.” My wife said, “How did he ever find us?” “Barbara Walters said it to President Carter on her show,” I said. “Oh, yeah,” he chuckled, and he went downstairs. The family all waited in the kitchen. “Why is he taking so long?” my wife asked nervously) as she twisted the dish towel. “Be calm, everybody,” I warned. “Pre tend nothing has happened. Ask him to come into the dining room.” The guy came into the dining room carrying his route book. “Where’s the meter?” he asked. “Would you like to have dinner?” I asked. I put my arm around her. “It’s all right, dear. The man is only doing his job.” “What kind of person would sneak into somebody’s home and inform on them as to how much electricity they had used?” she said. “Nope. I’ve been offered dinner in every house I’ve been to today. I’m stuf fed. Just tell me where your meter is and I’ll be out of here.” “You don’t want to go into our base ment,” my wife said. “It’s so messy. We’ll tell you anything you want to know.” “I have to check your meter,” he said. “I checked it yesterday,” I assured him. “It’s working fine.” “I have to read it.” “I’ll send my son to read it,” I said. “He’s great at reading meters. Here, have a glass of wine.” “I’m sorry, but I have to read it myself. It will only take a minute.” “Do you have a search warrant?” my wife asked. He looked surprised. “I don’t need a “Hush, he’ll hear you and add a cou ple of hundred kilowatts just for spite.” “I can take him, Dad,” my son said. “Let me use karate on him.” “Will you all shut up! He’s got us over a barrel. Electric meters never lie.” The man came up whistling. “Give it to us straight,” I said. “We can take it.” “You used 1,500 kilowatts of electricity this month,” he replied. My wife almost collapsed. I blanched. “Does the electric com pany have to know?” “Yup,” he replied, writing on his route book. “I’ll see you next month,” he said cheerfully. My wife gazed at him. “I just pray your mother never finds out what you do for a living. Governors get no respect by Arnold Sawislak United Press International WASHINGTON — The National Governors Association demonstrated again last week why it is the Rodney Dangerfield of American politics. The NGA, formerly called the Nation al Governors Conference, has been in business since early in the 20th century, but until recently was regarded as a large ly social organization. It held summer meetings at fancy re sorts and on cruise ships to give gov ernors a yearly break from the drudgery of the statehouses and an opportunity to talk a little shop with their peers between parties and golf games. It had little clout as an organization for several reasons. First, governors were unaccustomed to collective action. They were First Banana in their states and often didn’t take to the idea of letting any organization speak for them. Second, there were few issues that they agreed upon enough tojustify estab lishing a united front. Finally, the organi zation was really not geared for political action. There was an NGA staff, but it didn’t have the professional expertise and political know-how to play in the big leagues. The situation began changing when the idea of revenue sharing emerged. The governors found in it an issue they could unite on and a reason for devoting both time and resources to development of a strong Washington staff. They even were able to start working together as a group rather than as individuals. They got some results, too. Presidents Nixon, Ford and Carter found the gov ernors helpful in their struggles with Congress. But there was and still is a fatal flaw in the NGA’s ability to present an effective political instrument. Years ago, to keep the organization from being used as a sounding board for the political party that had the most gov ernorships, the NGA wrote rules requir ing two-thirds majorities to approve the most routine policy statements and three-fourths votes to pass anything brought before their meetings without having been subjected to a lengthy com mittee process. This prevented anyone from sandbagging the minority, but it also made action hard to achieve. That’s what happened last week. The NGA leadership wanted to use a little muscle in its long and frustrating nego tiations with the White House over who gets what in the “sorting out”of ment programs under New Fed So the leaders threatened it the White House and take their rectly to Congress instead of wain an agreement with President! This was a perfectly acceptablep f* J u<t! gambit; even if they didn’t plant r | of a fee , leased going alone, it put pressure on Reap business with them. H person The governors’ move was acts chang< reported as a potential slap at tit nistration. To block it, the' ' representative at the Oklahoma® the jin used the NGA’s rules: He " Republican governors embarrass the president to endati two-thirds majority needed forap of the strategy. So the leaders had to backoff attempt to save face, they insisted NGA would go ahead withdevelo of a separate New Federalism agreed to drop the threat to tak Congress without White Houseenjl ment. " But that is like designing a 0 . out a firing pin, and the NGA can H looking like noor old Rndnev Hi B"*" A J u Un SAN the as rather apprai ly, are disqua looking like poor old Rodney 1m field, the blustering buffoon who ft Unil figure out why he “don’t get norqiWICf _ boys fro Tcfes will AD CAMPAIGA/S THE UJW/EA5ITV INSURANCE PROGRAM SHOULD \ / ■i event «/W£UJ|l" i0f a Tires a found c COVERED; likf The lanch P THANKS, C It search warrant to read you rmeter.” “I think you had better check the Con stitution. You can’t just barge into some body’s house and look at his electric meter,” she said. “Well, if you feel that way, we’ll just shut off your electricity,” he replied. “It’s all right, Mother. The man has not come to do us harm,” I said. “I’m sure he won’t take advantage of a family that is probably eating its last meal unless our food stamps come through.” “Could you please direct me to your meter?” I took him to the cellar stairs. Then I said, “Be gentle with us. Be good to us.” “Where have I heard that before?” the man asked. ens a UNmsiJt t'JS j In the si Letters: Loss of Estes deeply felt Editor: The Battalion Letters Policy USPS 045 360 Member of Texas Press Association Southwest Journalism Conference Editor Diana Sultenfuss City Editor Bernie Fette Sports Editor Frank L. Christlieb News Editors Tracey Buchanan, Daniel Puckett Diane Yount Staff Writers Cyndy Davis, Susan Dittman, Terry Duran, Colette Hutchings, Hope E. Paasch, Joe Tindel Jr., Rebeca Zimmermann Copy Editors Gary Barker, Carol Templin Cartoonist Scott McCullar Photographers .... David Fisher, Octavio Garcia John Ryan, Letters to the Editor should not exceed 300 words in length, and are subject to being cut if they are longer The editorial staff reserves the right to edit letters for style and length, but will make every effort to maintain the author’s intent. Each letter must also be signed, show the address and phone number of the writer. Columns and guest editorials are also welcome, and are not subject to the same length constraints as letters. Address all inquiries and correspondence to: Editor, The Battalion, 216 Reed McDonald, Texas A&M Uni versity, College Station, TX 77843, or phone (713) 845- 2611. Editorial Policy The Battalion is published three times a week — Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday — during Texas A&M’s summer semesters, except for holiday and ex amination periods, when it is published only on Wednes days. Mail subscriptions are $16.75 p>er semester, $33.25 per school year and $35 per full year. Advertising rates furnished on request. Our address: The Battalion, 216 Reed McDonald Building, Texas A&M University, College Station, TX 77843. The Battalion is a non-profit, self-supporting news paper operated as a community service to Texas A&M University and Bryan-College Station. Opinions ex pressed in The Battalion are those of the editor or the author, and do not necessarily represent the opinions of Texas A&M University administrators or faculty mem bers, or of the Board of Regents. The Battalion also serves as a laboratory newspaper for students in reporting, editing and photography clas ses within the Department of Communications. Questions or comments concerning any editorial mat ter should be directed to the editor. . United Press International is entitled exclusively to the use for reproduction of all news dispatches credited to it. Rights of reproduction of all other matter herein reserved. Second class postage paid at College Station, TX 77843. The recent death of Charles Estes, head of the Department of Architecture at Texas A&M, is a severe loss to the profession of architecture, as well as to his immediate family and friends. I had the good fortune to work with Charles Estes as a visting professor at Texas A&M over a period of a year and a half and grew to admire his quiet com- petancy in architecture, in teaching and in administration. After an extraordi narily successful career in Caudill, Row lett and Scott, a major national firm, he came to Texas A&M dedicated to passing along his quiet, fully professional com- petancy to young men and women. Architecture needs his kind of leader ship and, with the death of Charles Estes, a leader of the first rank has been lost. I voice the feeling of architects across Texas and across the nation in acknow ledging the contribution of Charles Estes and grieving at his untimely death. For tunately, his influence at the University will doubtless remain for many years to come. I am 36 years old, have brown hair and hazel-green eyes, stand 5’11”, and weigh 200 pounds. My hobbies include reading, woodcrafting and writing poetry and essays. As an inmate laborer, I earn only a meager 50 cents a day, and couldn’t even pay for this ad, and that is why I am asking you if you would please print this letter in your paper. Surely there must be at least one person who cares enoal help me through this experiencebf ing to me. Thank you very much. Clarence Bl D.O.C. #211 Indiana State Per Michigan City, Indiana iff Berrys World Clovis Heimsath Fayetteville Inmate wants letters Editor: I am writing you in the hopes that you will help me in my endeavor to find someone to write to. I am an inmate in the Indiana State Prison, and since I am from Pennsylvania and have no family or friends, my time here has been very lone ly and isolated. Watching the other guys here receiv ing mail day after day, while I seldomly get any, sends me to the depths of despair at times. Even one letter would go a long way towards lifting me from these depths and making my life here more bearable. ©1882 by NEA. Inc. "What is the message today, Mr. President?" Sc tl lir 'Sf € 4 sho/