Page 2AThe Battalion/Thursday, July 14, 1983 Leisure time shouldn’t be wasted The crisis of the 80s is not nuclear war, the Carter briefing books, or even Chuck and Di’s marital status. No. It’s the crisis of leisure time: what to do when there’s nothing to do. This condition is even worse when you’re broke, which seems to be a perpetual state for college students. Little money, lots of time and not a thing to do — that’s the chorus of the leisure time blues. Speed up the tempo, change a few words, raise it an octave — it’s no longer a dirge. (So we’re budding poets. Right. Nip it in the bud.) Writing poetry was just one suggestion we received when we asked other Batta lion staffers for a list of fun, cheap things to do. The first ideas that came to mind we immediately dismissed as too mundane: reading, sleeping, working crosswords and so on. One incurable romantic suggested a walk in the park, but we already thought of that. It falls under the walking/jogging category — sort of the parks department of the College of Walking and Jogging. And suggestions from cartoonist Scott McCullar immediately were dismissed as too bizarre: counting bird droppings. kathleen hart bob mcglohon scraping up dead bugs, reading room mates’ diaries, ad nauseum. Scott said the heat of summer has him “listless.” Other ideas included watching mem bers of the opposite sex, talking on the telephone, cleaning closets desks or cars, writing letters (or poems, or stories), playing the guitar and washing the dog/ cat/parakeet/gerbil. But after a hard day of sorting “dirty laundry,” journalistic imaginations can go limp. Persevering, we put on our college sized thinking caps and came up with what we think are novel ideas: flying a kite, juggling, dancing to the radio, lis tening to birds, cutting coupons, reading the comics at 7-11, practicing putting, making paper-clip chains or paper air planes, et cetera. (So maybe they aren’t all that novel. Can you do better? If so, keep it to yourself.) One favorite activity of ours is people watching. Not the lust inspired guy/girl watching, but plain of people watching — an art that’s rapidly dying out. Go down to the mall, the MSC, or some other public herding area, and just watch — walks, mannerisms, even clothes. See the lady with the orange hair and fake leopard-skin dress that’s cut down to here and up to there? Or how about the walking family feud over by the candy store: “Gummy bears, Mommy, Gummy bears.” “Daddy, can I have a bunch of those? and those? and those?” “MUUTHEER.” “Puhleeze?” “NO!” And then there’s thinking. You know, just sitting and exercising the of cere brum — sans calculators, computers or video games. In this age of electronically- fed mush from sources such as your handy-dandy “boob tube,” brain exer cises have become a challenge, yes, even a rarity. In stretching our imaginations to come up with this list, television was not considered. How could it be, when in to day’s commercial TV market, “Gilligan’s Island” would be considered too intellec tual. We can see it now: “Mr. T’s Island.” What we can’t see is any excuse for being bored. There are as many things to do as there are people to think of them. The list is endless. However, if you’re really desperate for cheap, fun things to do, as a last resort you can sit around and make up lists of cheap, fun things to do. Then again, maybe not. ... 'M i The Battalion USPS 045 360 Member ol Texas Press Association Southwest Journalism Conference Editor HopeE. Paasch City Editor Kelley Smith Sports Editor John Wagner News Editors Daran Bishop, Brian Boyer, Beverly Hamilton, Tammy Jones Staff Writers Robert McGlohon, Karen Schrimsher, Angel Stokes, joe Tindej Copyeditors Kathleen Hart, Beverly Hamilton Cartoonist Scott McCullar Photographers Brenda Davidson, Eric Evan Lee, Barry Papke Editorial Policy 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 matter should be directed to the editor. Letters Policy 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 and show the address and telephone number of the writer. We reserve the right to mess with your mind occaision- ally. Columns and guest editorials also are 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 (409) 845- 2611. The Battalion is published Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday during both Texas A&M regular summer sessions, except for holiday and examination periods. Mail subscriptions are $16.75 per 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. 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. Horsehockey to horseshoes Neighbors’ game not a thrill I used to like playing horseshoes. Not anymore. Thanks to some wonderful neighbors in our apartment complex who seem to adore the game. I’ve become an avid ha ter of the sport and the u-shaped iron “game pieces.” It’s not so much that I mind the fact that these guys have totally torn up the grass in front of my window, or that they sit outside until 2 a.m. playing with their radio blaring at 3,000 decibels or even the fact that they drink oodles of beer and become disgustingly obnoxious. (Well, maybe it does bother me.) My main complaint is that the owner of the apartment complex is considering sanding in the area (in front of my bed room window) that has already been des troyed to form a permanent horseshoe playing ground. Does anyone know where I can buy an iron umbrella so I won’t be assaulted by flying horseshoes when I walk out my front door? Another thing that bothers me is that these neighbors don’t seem to care that they are tearing up the yard, disturbing beverly hamilton If the owners feel the playing area is a necessary addition to the complex — “Rent with us because our complex has low rent, swimming pool, laundry room and horseshoe playing area” — they should locate it in an area central to all tenants. Also, they should take into con sideration the danger of the present loca tion and have the playing area sanded in near the swimming pool. The playing ground now is on the end of the complex — not a very central loca tion. the tenants or endangering children who often pass by their playing area. And to top that off, the management of the apartment complex seem to like the idea of tenants playing horseshoes. By the way, they didn’t respond to my roommate’s complaint about the noise or the mutilated yard. Putting the ’shoers close to the pool would get them out of our hair, and out of our front yard. Also, there would be less danger to tenants who pass the play ers. The area surrounding the fenced pool is much larger than the current playing field and leaves room for over thrown horseshoes, which otherwise would be dangerous. So here’s an appeal to the owner from my roommate and me — for the second time. Put yourself in our shoes and think about this horse-hockey before you make it permanent. Talking trees only first sign of conspiraq tolem ( by Dick West United Press International WASHINGTON — Scientific by Eric I Battalion 'he Brazos ( ers prograr [e than d more th en property start in Nove hades Ower any informa mation that trees apparently cai municate with each other certaii as no surprise to me. I had suspected as much ever 1980 presidential campaign Ronald Reagan, then a can pointed to trees as a leading pollution. How come you never Departmen trees being charged with violai jth the prograr vironmental Protection Agent) ge payout ft tions? King to a gr; Gould it be that Reagan, om jent is between White House, became less diliger : ®he prograr anti-pollution pursuits? That ® u rage rest seem likely. A more probable „ P°* lce tion is that trees are able to passiT eiin ^ r f war whenever an EPA agent is lurking and thus have time to clean up “Cheeze it, the feds,” the ti whisper to each other. And they tie their leaves in alarm. Or sou signal. According to two ecologistswkK vered arboreal communication^ ings of impending danger maybdK, Ba « alion by a chemical substance releasedlL ' pj during an attack by (7tterpillanM artrnent ari( worms and other insect defoajpj Lake Park Neighboring trees can tell fromtkKlenvironmer borne alarms that predators ait |th 40,000 red prowl. So they bolster their naniK fenses to minimize the damage, f saltwau I am convinced that trees ] a g e means the only plants that haL e ff ects 0 f t h capacity. Further research und igf,^. The res would show that even commonl if the fish w ifferent envin Dr. Jay Willi? Recreador es by Tin undoul Further research would show that even coi lawn weeds are capable ol ing each other to any th may be looming. Ill by Rober Battal The College nter for Te? the Texas ment Statu [uiry confer weeds are capable of alerting eadLr that to any threat that may be loomin; u hj t , ct 0 f “Qu grass, for example. technical S All the evidence I have gathereij-The confe communicating crabgrass is entire'unded by cumstantial. I’ll concede. I hatflexas Enginec ducted no scientific experimentsiitation.willbe whether the crabgrass in my lawn warned whenever I load upthespij with an and-crabgrass formula, theless, my attempts to rid the fa crabgrass have been negative em suggest that the intended victims how were tipped off. It looks'" side job to me. in 701 Ru r. Glenn or ofthe T Teaching dnesday th concern is ege teachi jlar confer loo by Gwynei There just is no other plausibkl nation for the way the crabgrassW able to overide the element of sif By “element of surprise,” I meanj ing out the lawn spreader in when anti-crabgrass applicationss kggies can expected. lutes of th< I’m talking about applying 3 * 00( i to 1 killers in the dead of winter wtii [ lter lawn is covered with snow. Thai Battal it durin snow. 1 U a, d£u We Ki k ' a . . , ... . . , Iheblood grass couldn t possibly anticipate ^ tu( j ent would be cunning enough to enij } Omega lawn spreader when a snow sho" |ph a , Tues< indicated. But suppose the dani ^donatio that persevere year after year—d intheCorr lions that not even crabgrass can tobile will be out — saw me coming. I can hea| now, “Dandelions to crabgrass. lions to crabgrass. Now hearthisi ' spreader approaching at 2 o’clock a Red Alert. Repeat — This is i ALERT. All hands institute survi'i immediately.” Whereupon the crabgrass batW hatches, or whatever crabgrass di make itself impervious. If, of course, the spreader isl with anti-dandelion formula, the grass returns the favor. Speechwriter, reporter leaving White House MOND S by Helen Thomas United Press International WASHINGTON — Backstairs at the White House: Nothing irritates President Reagan more than to be called “a rich man’s president.” The White House is losing its top speechwriter, Aram Bakshian, in Sep tember. He says he remembers the Great De pression too well for that. Bakshian will move on to write a col umn for The Washington Times. “Someday let me give you my mother’s recipe for oatmeal,” he said. “I thought it was a luxury.” A strong conservative, he was a speechwriter for former President Richard Nixon, and a strong Nixon de fender in the past. But there is no question that the “fair ness” issue is troubling the White House and the perception in the polls that the president favors the rich over the poor. He has supervised most of the major speeches Reagan has made in the White House. His will be an opinion column, follow ing in the footsteps of other conservative speechwriters, including William Safire and Pat Buchanan. UPI White House correspondent Don Davis has left the wire service after 18 years to try his hand at fiction. Davis wrote a farewell column, telling it like it is for reporters. Somehow, his plans to see the president to say goodbye went awry. But Davis is getting bids on the lecture circuit to speak on White House re porting. Slouch N|' WI ^ By Jim Earl WVf Salij ‘Do you think they can label ALL of them?”