The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current, July 20, 1994, Image 5

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    ;day •July20,
speed
with cork rather than
»le is drilled in the
at.
ie hole ranges from
as wide as a dime.
ht material, including
und-up rubber balls,
vity.
fdnesday * July 20, 1994
Take a boat ride
into Cape Fear
Danger at sea pumps 'rush' of
adrenaline through your veins
Hi
FRANK
STANFORD
than an all-wood
slightly, by about
produce when
Columnist
3 had 32 straight
ms, and have been
I out of 365 Associ-
Is.
won the national
in football in 1991
■ictory over Notre
range Bowl. In the
rs, Colorado ranks
y in winning per
is one of the more
)ts in the nation,
me game, a buffalo
e stadium,
bears a dubious
\&M fans, as they
t school from Col-
; 1082 miles. The
t heavily in Texas,
ms listed on their
,e and Oklahoma
winners last year,
efeated Wyoming,
pper Bowl. They
13 campaign with
in the Big Eight
success. Slocum
a goes a step fur-
ne all the schools
ht and the four,
ining in ‘96, the
will have more
onships than any
3 in the nation.”
pretty special.”
ngers
Indians 12
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ave you ever
been really
scared? I
mean so full of fear
your body shook
and your heart felt
like it was going to
leap right out of
your chest?
Fear is
axperienced in two
rays. The first is the wimpy kind. When you’re seven
years old and have to go out in the dark to retrieve your
kicycle, every beast in every book or TV show, including
the shark from “Jaws,” is out there and hungry for a little
kid in pajamas. This fear is completely unfounded as dad is
matching at the front door and Roy Scheider killed the
shark. Yet, the fear is still intense and you don’t have to be
seven for it to occur.
Periodically, we’ve all been in frightening situations when
AP/TracieTso oureyes were alert and as big as Bart Simpson’s. These
reactions your body generates are made up of increased
heart rate, muscle contraction and adrenaline, and although
abhorred by most, some consider it a “rush.” The “rushees”
are also called “fear-lovers.”
The second type of fear is for survival. These instinctive
fears are the ones we usually try to avoid, but are most
[amiliar with. Women often suffer them in dark parking lots.
I get them on my motorcycle in heavy traffic. This is a good
[ear, and if the tendency for self-preservation is high, it is
most effective for “fear-haters.”
Unfortunately, I fall into the category of “fear-luster.”
While trying to remain out of the hospital and certainly away
from the grave, slightly life-threatening situations seem to
attract me once or twice a year. Usually water is involved.
My first heart-pounder was at a high school beach party
where I was one of seven students in a Toyota Land Cruiser
that drove off a marina bank at high speed. It sank like a
rock of course, but we all managed to make it ashore with
little more than the sniffles.
Having grown up in Corpus Christi, the water played a
large role in my life and influenced my interest in sailing.
One summer, a friend and I decided to sail 18 miles to Port
Aransas on my 15-foot racer. Because he had no experience
whatsoever, I naturally gave him the helm and shouted
commands like, “Make the boat lean more.” The boat
flipped over while miles offshore and because of a
neglected repair it sank like a rock. We were wide-eyed to
say the least. Someone radioed a Coast Guard helicopter,
which hovered over us just like on TV.
My next boat was a 22-foot sloop with a small galley and
even “slept five” (they must’ve meant five pre-schoolers). I
took some friends night sailing in the dead of winter at Lake
Conroe. The boat’s electrical system was in a state of
disrepair, so illumination was reduced to the use of a
flashlight. Since we were guzzling ice-cold beer and freezing
our butts off, I
decided to use the
alcohol stove for
both light AND
heat. I only had
rubbing alcohol for
fuel (wrong kind -
big mistake). Soon
we had much more
light and heat than we planned. It took five of us frantically
scooping water and beating the inferno with parkas to fix the
problem. We were sober in minutes.
That summer, two roommates and I decided to sail
across the Gulf from Freeport to Corpus Christi. We
started really late, but no problem - we had charts, food
AND lights. After about 50 miles and total darkness, we
realized the charts were useless. Someone forgot to light
the entire coast of Texas. No matter - I forgot the
binoculars anyway. We anchored the boat in the surf and
trudged ashore for a seaweed fire and the most miserable,
wet, sleepless, mosquito-infested night of my life. At 5 a.m.
we were on our way back to Freeport.
My last and perhaps most frightening nautical experience
occurred on a large yacht in New England. Three years ago
we found ourselves in Newport, RL, during a hurricane
warning. After dropping the yacht owners at a hotel in town,
the crew went looking for a hiding place in Narragansett
Bay. As we entered the area, our on-deck TV announced:
“Hurricane Bob is turning sharply into Narragansett Bay.”
During the next two hours of 100 mph winds, zero visibility
and 70 degree rocking, our electricity went out, our radar
failed and our anchor broke loose - sending us rotating freely
and blindly. I was so scared I didn’t even get seasick.
Although everything turned out OK, I was left with one
prevailing thought regarding all my nautical disasters:
The sea is a beautiful place, especially when you’re not
drowning.
Boating anyone ... ?
Periodically, ive've all been
in frightening situations
when our eyes were alert
and as big as Bart Simpson's.
stros
Frank Stanford is a graduate philosophy student
Q PINION
N£W
The Battalion
Editorial Board
Mark Evans, Editor in chief
William Harrison, Managing editor
Jay Robbins, Opinion editor
Editorials appearing in The Battalion reflect
the views of the editorial board. They do not
necessarily reflect the opinions of other
Battalion staff members, the Texas A&M
student body, regents, administration, faculty
or staff.
Columns, guest columns, cartoons and
letters express the opinions of the authors.
Contact the opinion editor for information
on submitting guest columns.
July 20,1969-R.I.P.
Apollo triumph neglected after 25 years
Today, we celebrate the 25th an
niversary of the day Neil Armstrong
stepped off the ItuSSt shuttle of the
Apollo 11 mission and onto the surface
of the moon and utter those memorable
words, “This is one small
step for man, one giant
leap for mankind.”
That moment is frozen
in the minds of the mil
lions of Americans who
witnessed it. Even today,
Americans take pride in
this remarkable achieve
ment. It signified to them
the defeat of the Soviet
Union in the space race
and marked the United
States as the leader in
space exploration and
new technology.
Today, the United
States must renew its
emphasis on space explo
ration and development
of space technology.
NASA has seen its bud
get trimmed in recent
years because of percep
tions of it as a large, inef
ficient bureaucracy. While
NASA has had its share of
problems lately, the explo
ration of space is too im
portant to neglect.
Whether NASA needs
a major administrative shakeup or
even replacement by another agency,
the United States must support an ac
tive space program.
The benefits of space exploration are
worth their cost and crucial to the future
of the development of American technolo
gy. The future of research is in space.
Pharmaceutical and biological studies
conducted aboard the space
shuttle during the past
decade have launched those
fields forward in numerous
areas. This research will
lead to important new sci
entific discoveries, like vac
cines, treatments and pre
ventive medicines.
The United States will
fall behind its European
and Asian competitors
and could become a sec
ond rate power if it allows
other nations such as
Germany and Japan to
take the lead.
Research is often the
first thing to feel the bud
get axe because there is
little immediate return on
the investment. However,
it is incredibly shortsight
ed to abandon the Ameri
can space program. Its
long-term development is
of highest importance to
the future of this country
and the world. Tomorrow’s
technology depends on the
research of today.
America has always expanded is
horizons by bravely venturing into the
unknown and unexplored. We must
not turn away from this tradition.
Everybody does
not need college
Graduation, degree should not
prevent pursuit of life's dreams
M
ELIZABETH
NICOL
Guest Columnist
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pitched 4 1-3
sight runs on
:ros had won
Size of coliseum,not
■hours.
Fragment P2 hit Jupiter
ednesday morning, becoming the
ltd piece of comet Shoemaker-Levy
■0 batter the giant planet.
The next fragment in the comet
* is Q2. It will be followed by two
ter large boulders that will drill into
'Piter's cloud tops at about the
fne place.
CALL
to play in the Special Events Center (12,500
seats) either - maybe Kyle Field. If a band
chooses not to play here, it is not necessarily
because our coliseums won’t hold enough peo
ple, often a performer can’t sell enough tick
ets in a smaller community like B-CS. Bands
play in Houston, Austin and Dallas over Col
lege Station because there are more people,
with more money in those cities, the band is
almost guaranteed a sell-out. With the popu
lation of B-CS at just over 100,000, we are
bematorial race wi>J uc ky to get the performers that we do.
how Texans percemu-* R-K ?lc George, Willie, R.E.M.,
Richards’ record versus George i’ m not against the
W. Bushs qualifications, local
f - ' • j- ■ ■■ ■' '•••' Wy.-y• .■•■3■ '
oday's Batt
Iggielife
3
'lassified
4
bmics
4
ocal
2
)pinion
5
party officials said.
Dr. Richard Stadelmann, fac
ulty adviser for the College Re
publicans, said the race could
go either way at this point.
“It’s a little too early to tell,”
he said. “But all of the polls in
dicate that this is likely to be a
close race.”
Dr. Gary Halter, faculty ad
viser for the Aggie Democrats,
said voter turnout will be the
key to the election.
“If we have a low turnout. I
will expect George W Busn as
governor,” he said. “If there is
a high turnout, then Ann
Richards will win.”
Stephen Sandlin
Class of ’96
ir, but I want people- to
Riiitely not going to be the
poo So, don’t expect to see
irming at the next trac-
Ric
in oi
flue]
boar
Ii
Lem • x
theuon to flags
Guappropriate
frorr
shettention given to the
''Tan flag both inappro-
De In the first place, the
Coan abstract representa-
d the freedoms that we
is not a physical mani
festation of this country itself. I find it ap
palling and in bad taste when people raise
the flag up to the level of a religious icon. To
die in order to protect this country and the
values we hold is honorable. To die in order
to save the flag would be mere foolishness.
I further take offense at the way some
writers have criticized the University Police
Department in their performance of hanging
the flag. These hard working men and
women are here “to serve and protect” the
campus and its inhabitants. The hanging of
a few flags is the least of their worries. I feel
to criticize the UPD in this one aspect of their
many duties is to be disrespectful and un
grateful. Surely the members of our police
force are no less patriotic than you or I.
Given the current national situation, it
may not be appropriate to hang the flag up
side down. If all we can do is complain that
the flag is unlit, we are surely doomed.
Paul Herrera
College Station
The Baaalion encourages
letters to the editor and will
print as many as space
allows. Letters must be 300
words or less and include
the author's name, class,
and phone number.
We reserve the right to
edit letters for length, style,
and accuracy.
Address letters to:
The Battalion - Mail Call
013 Reed McDonald
Texas A&M University
Coflege Station, TX
77843-t til
Fax: (409) 845-2647
"y mother used to tell me that
if I worked half as hard on my
-homework as I did on my
piano, I’d be a straight-A student.
Since my high school graduation, I
have spent ten months in England,
attended two universities, enrolled in
a spectrum of majors (among them
drama, engineering and Russian), worked seven jobs,
driven two Volkswagens and a motorcycle, been in the
Corps and out, lived on campus and off. I guess you could
say I have a schizophrenic personality, but the one thing
that remains constant is that I love to play my piano.
I have one remaining semester before Aggieland
becomes a distant memory for me, and at this point
something has suddenly become very cleaT: I was not
meant to be a college student.
I’m sure many people have felt this way some time or
another, but the majority of graduates will either attend
grad school or seek work in their chosen field. Not so for me.
In fact, I am going in the opposite direction. After enduring
one last fall - at the end of which I am scheduled to get a
degree in anthropology - and whether I pass math or not, I
am moving to New York City to become an actress.
You might scoff, or you might console me that at least I
have a degree to fall back on. Try consoling me about the
$20,000 debt I’ve accumulated. My mother tells all her
friends that I’m going to New York for a year to get the
acting bug out of my system and will attend law school
upon my return. Needless to say, the only person for whom
I am earning a degree is her - so that when I am cowering
on a sidewalk on 42nd Street with a tin cup full of change, I
won’t have to hear those ominous words: “If you had gotten
your degree, Elizabeth, you wouldn’t be groveling to all
those lawyers who can afford to go to the theater.”
My mother groomed me in preparation for sororities, the
search for a rich husband, the Junior League, death. I
rebelled in every way possible. Ninety-five percent of our
arguments were
based on the way I
dressed, which
was ever-offensive
to my mother, who
looks like she just
stepped out of
Vogue. I smoked
for a while. I
bought a
motorcycle. I dated a guy with pink hair. I got a tattoo. I
played my piano until they shouted at me to go to bed. I was
what you’d call a difficult child.
I enrolled in the drama department at UT and
excelled in all (and only) my theater classes. Mom was
chagrined. I don’t know if it was her nagging, some
ingrained army tradition I was brought up with or my
aforementioned schizophrenia, but after one year I left
UT and came to A&M to join the Corps, because that’s
what I was supposed to do.
My piano was gone. After a two-year stint of physical
and emotional character-building hell, I am now in an
apartment and I have my grandmother’s piano. Mine
burned down, along with our house, four years ago. Mother
is a prime suspect.
When I returned from England, nearly all of my
girlfriends had gotten married and were pregnant (not
necessarily in that order). Now that I am about to leave
school, another cycle of friends has entered into
married/engaged life. There is a reason I have never
had a boyfriend or any serious kind of emotional
attachment. I am not cut from the same mold that says
marriage plus kids plus steady paycheck equals happy
life and a gold watch for retirement.
I see so many people who struggle and work like dogs so
that they can keep up with the Joneses, who would be
failures in their mind’s eye if they did not complete a
degree. I made five dollars singing with an old saxophonist
on St. Peter Street outside Preservation Hall in New
Orleans, and it was the best five dollars I ever made.
Aggieland might be a special place for a lot of people, but
Tin Pan Alley holds just as many friendships and memories
as this place ever could. Broadway is the stuff that dreams
are made of - where talent and intense desire supercede the
degree you hold. Where the neighbors don’t bang on the
ceiling because you’re playing the piano too loud. Where if
people worked half as hard on their homework as they do
on the piano, they’d be Nobel Prize winners.
Elizabeth Nicol is a senior anthropology major
I have one semester left at
Aggieland, and at this point it
is very clear: I was not meant
to be a college student.