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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Sept. 2, 1986)
Page 2/The Battalion/Tuesday, September 2, 1986 Opinion New findings liberate coffee drinkers’ consciencesSei College has robbed me of many earthly pleasures. Most of my hobbies have been abandoned. I no longer have the time to paint or read real books. Except for a weekly rac- quetball rivalry with The Bat talion sports editor Ken Sury and a rare few minutes with my out-of-tune and dusty guitar, I don’t get much chance to enjoy the finer as pects of leisure. Loren Steffy But college did introduce me to one worldly de light — coffee. This stimulating black liquid is a college student’s ambrosia. I turned to coffee out of desperate need, but 1 have grown to love it. Many late nights I would stay up, mug in hand, reading textbooks that were a sure-fire cure for insomnia. Concentration seemed a little easier with my “caffeinated” com panion. My infatuation with coffee grew slowly. It prob ably started before birth. Before he cut down, my father was a 12-to 15-cup-a-day man. But for years I avoided the stuff like the Black Death. Once, just to be daring, my friend and I made some when his parents were out of town. Be ing an adult, we decided, tasted terrible. College, however, meant the need to function in several jobs, study and not sleep for long periods of time. Coffee was the only answer. At first I drank only enough to serve these me dicinal purposes, pouring in as much sugar and cream as I could stand without gagging. But college students are not known for well- stocked larders, and 1 was no exception. When the sugar ran out, I learned to drink my coffee with just cream. Then, the night before finals, the cream ran out. With a gulp and a wince, I started down the black road to true coffee appreciation. I mercilessly consumed the liquid — two cups in the morning, two cups at night, as many as I could get at the restaurant where I worked. When I got my own desk at The Battalion, I brought my own pot. It sits in the corner, perking diligently away, filling the newsroom with its sweet aroma and annoying my fellow workers, who, for future journalists, are lacking severely in coffee addiction. Then, disaster struck. I learned that a team of Harvard scientists discovered a link between cof fee and cancer of the pancreas. 1 was faced with a horrible dilemma. Did I dare to dance with death and continue to consume this liquid ecstasy, or should I part with my beloved beverage in the name of a healthy pancreas — one of my favorite bodily organs? Being of true journalistic stock, my body geneti cally calibrated to deal with potentially harmful substances such as Twinkies, pizza and Moon Pies (it is rumored that these delicacies have so many preservatives they will not only kill you, but save on embalming costs as well), I decided to flirt with fate and keep on perking. Now the Harvard scientists wisely have reversed their previous decision. The study always was con troversial, and its methods often refuted by other groups, the members’ hands shaking from caf feine withdrawal. As long as coffee consumption is kept to less than five cups a day, there is no increased risk of cancer. More than five, it’s unclear, but men who exceeded this limit had nearly 2 1 /2 times the risk of pancreatic cancer. It’s a sacrifice, but I think 1 can trim down to live cups. The consciences of coffee drinkers everywhere have been liberated. We are free to sip, slurp or Hx. I'm Juan. V Vrt I AM A 'Sot-IVtAsI •pAR-Me’R. eveN TN0V6W MV CRCP* AK& PROVEN flDDl£“PV£, X W*D NO UJORRIF* ABOUT THE AMERICA* HELI COLTERS. NOR X UICR.RV ABcur RE AC, AN'$ NEUJ Fbt-i^/eS AUSTIN (. jority oven 1)11 Monclai Id set up luin on pai seand dog Hot dog, .“Ike” Hi i pushing *1973. arris’ bil lor guzzle up to five cups a day and still die with a healthy pancreas. Personal interests aside, I’m glad the group from Harvard re-evaluated its study. Obvious bias exists. Harvard, it’s image far too “distinguished” to submit to coffee-drinking, is a school of tea-loy alists. It is, after all, located near Boston, a town known for its tea parties. So why did the Harvard researchers change their mind? I’ve only visited Harvard briefly, so I’m specu lating about what goes on behind those ivy-lada walls, but I imagine the scientists reached thei: new decision the same way most professionals do They sat down and talked about it over acupol coffee. I HRl- M I A |Malley's fa Inm the clot Ice track, b ■her farmei Ian comimi |e big win iu Ig isupprov I O'Malley i | "The pan ■om racing ■Malley, a who has six n yeunger amn t is the n p; les. constiu itliome for I Horse bn Loren Steffy is a senior journalism major and ibt Opinion Page editor for The Battalion. Lott Apartheid means even basic pleasures can be denied In Johannes burg one day, writing frantically in my hotel room, I called for room service, which is how I met Harry, the waiter. Harry, a runner, noticed my running shoes, and I suggested Rlchord we go for a run Cohen later in the nearby park. Harry’s face dropped. Blacks, he said, were forbidden to use the park. By South African standards, segre gated parks are a minor nuisance. After all, we are talking about a country where blacks cannot vote, where government policy separates families and where blacks are forbidden by law to live in white areas. I was told later that the parks had been desegregated. Clearly, though, custom or ignorance of the law kept Hai ry in his place. You had to have seen the look on Harr' s face to appreciate apartheid — his sad acceptance of the situation and also the infuriating rage at the injustice of it Hai ry was condemned to second- class citizenship by birth. The freedom of the runner, the ability to go where your legs will take you, even that was denied him. Some members of the U.S. Senate, Malcolm Wallop in particular, seem not to understand that. During the Senate debate over economic sanctions, the Wyoming Republican characterized the demand for them as an appeal to “do mestic racial politics. What we’re looking at is middle-class, comfortable win: senators playing up to the black population of America, the liberal pop ulation.” Of course, Wallop has a point. But surely this Senate veteran has not dis covered now that politicians occasionally pander to their constituencies. Does he think the Senate’s decision to subsidize grain sales to the Soviet Union had nothing to do with the plight of farmers in an election year? Does he think that the U. S. preoccupation with the plight of Soviet Jewry — as opposed to, say, the plight of the Turkish minortity in Bulgaria — is unrelated to the political influence of American Jews? It would be one thing if the demand for sanctions reflected trivial or illegiti mate concerns, but they do not. They are brought home to us precisely be cause there is an American constituency that feels them acutely — whose families have suffered in similar ways. Why American blacks should be any differ ent is beyond me. Naturally, they iden tify with the plight of South Africa’s blacks. It was not that long ago, after all, that American blacks were banned from public parks. Racial, ethnic, religious af finity is not something new, something unique to blacks or to any group of American voters. To Wallop and some other conserva tives, it remains a mystery that Ameri can blacks and their liberal allies feel so strongly about South Africa, proposing punitive sanctions, for instance, while feeling only indifference or repugnance toward the Soviet Union. After all, that’s a country with a really reprehensible human rights record. There is a country whose history contains a bloody Gulag stretching beyond the borders of the imagination. Why South Africa and not the Soviet Union? In the preface to his classic memoir, “Survival In Auschwitz,” the Italian writer, Primo Levi, suggests an answer: “Many people, many nations . . . find themselves holding . . . that every stranger is the enemy.” Levi is referring to anti-Semitism, but it applies as well to the racism of South Africa, where by virtue of birth, a black remains always “the stranger,” always “the enemy.” Even in the Soviet Union, conformity to the political system assures a normal life. Most people can choose and even those who choose “wrong” can later be “re-educated” and resume a measure of an ordinary life. Racism is different. You cannot be re educated out of your skin. Prison, even torture, can not change your genetic pool by which you are prejudged. This is why Nazi doctrine held that Jews had to be killed — that their crime was not what they did, but who they were. Even religious conversion could not alter the gene pool. That is the sort of racism at the core of the apartheid system. Of course, apartheid has its ethnic and economic components — cheap labor, for in stance. But its essential racism cannot be overlooked. We are all many things and when I was in South Af rica, one of the things I was was a runner. I delighted in the in dependence of it, the ability to discover a strange city all on my own. I knew that Harry would have liked to share that joy. I knew, too, the cruelty of apart heid, but I knew it better because of a small thing: A man like me said he could not go where his legs could take him. Copyright 1986, Washington Post Writers Group Mail Call Life savings lost EDITOR: I was riding in the rain from Reed McDonald to the Pavilion to pay my fees. Unfortunately, 1 lost an envelope containing my lif e’s savings of around $1,600. If any Aggie finds it, please contact Tuan I ran at 846:8127. Please help out an Aggie. This money is for my four years education at Aggie land. Tuan Tran Slow down, you move too fast EDITOR: On behalf of everyone in town, I’d like to welcome back all the students (particularly the driver of the “Howdy Dammit” pickup that careened past me on Harvey Road) and make an observation: Life as you know it probably won’t change much if you arrive at your destination f ive minutes late. It could change pretty radically if, in your haste, you wreck your vehicle and break your spine — or mine, as I (or my survivors) will not hesitate to sue your mom and dad for every penny they have or ever hope to have. So slow down and have a good semester. M.L. Creamer Glad to be here EDITOR: A few weeks back I was a graduate student. I stalked the corridors of academe with crumpled backpack and disheveled look, waiting for it all to come to an end. I looked up to my professors. They seemed to exist on a hallowed plane well removed from my mundane existence. Separating us was a gulf of recognition, and it appeared entirely improbable that I, a mere creature, could bridge it. All of a sudden I found myself on the other side, but I am still the same mundane self. Naturally, I am not sure I deserved it. I feel good. Like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, this is something that was always expected of me yet ent irely beyond my comprehension. Sometimes when meeting people outside the University environment I feel a bit awkward telling them that I am an assistant professor. I carry the backpack and go everywhere on bicycle, so when I say that I teach, people often think of me as a graduate stuaent. I usually let that pass, feeling unprepared for the awe that being a faculty elicits. T he best thing I like about T exas A&M is the intense Aggie spirit. I enjoy finding out about the history of A&M. I appreciate traditions; they reflect the intense pride and an awareness of history which is unique to Texas. I was told to expect radical conservatism in T exas, along with some prejudice. As a visitor to this country, I must say that I have personally faced little prejudice from the average American, and I certainly didn’t expect it in a university community. I am glad to say that my experience so far has home this out, alt hough I keep on hearing reports to the contrary. On the whole, I am glad I made the decision to come to Texas. T he budget problems don’t bother me much — whatever the level of cuts, the state funding for this University will remain much higher than the private university I came from. I am of course, concerned with possible manpower and salary cuts, but for the time being I am content to leave that battle to the powers-that-be. Another reason why I feel good about this job is because of my parents. I know I have made them very happy (tinged with a little sadness since I am so far away). My father, who always wanted to he a professor, is immensely proud of me. The mind, he says, is man’s greatest wealth, and I have been honored to be chosen as a caretaker. Every time we talk he enjoins me to live up to the high expectations of this position, as if he doesn’t really expect me to. For his sake and for the sake of all you Aggies out there, I know I can — and I will. Amit Mukeyfee Computer Science Letters to the editor should not exceed 300 words in length. 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 he e the address and telephone number of the writer. The Battalion (USPS 045 360) Member of Texas Press Association Southwest Journalism Conference The Battalion Editorial Board Cathie Anderson, Editor Kirsten Dietz, Managing Editor Loren Steffy, Opinion Page Editor Frank Smith, City Eclitor Sue Krenek, News Editor Ken Sury, Sports Editor Editorial Policy The Battalion is a non-profit, sdl-suppoi tinR new spajkt oper ated as acomniUnitv servic e to Texas A&.-M and Bi v;m-(College Sta tion. Opinions expressed in l he Battalion arc those of the editorial board or the author, and do not necessarily rejn esent the o|>inionsi of Texas A&M administrators, faculty or the Board of Regents. , The Battalion also serves as a laboratory newspaper for stuclenlS in reporting, editing and |>hoU)graphy classes within the Depari- 1 ment of Journalism. The Battalion is published Monday through Friday duiim; Texas A&M regular semesters, except foi holiday and examination* periods. 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