Wednesday
March 22, 1995
■
The Battalion • Page 11
We must all cut apron strings
Move to independence proves to be inevitable journey
From our first steps to leaving for col
lege, we walk toward independence.
From the parents’ points of view,
when they look at their grown chil
dren, it may seem as if all their sacri
fices and agonizing choices have gone
unnoticed. But, children remember.
We remember lullabies in the rock
ing chair and pancakes on Sunday
mornings. We remember the car
games played to pass the time on long
trips. Birthday parties, even though
the pictures didn’t come out. Whis
pers of encouragement. Spankings.
Wheelbarrow rides and Slip-N-Slides.
Christmas morning rituals. Sand
wiches with the crusts cut off. Hugs.
Pajamas with feet. Temper-tanrums.
The tickle game and beat the clock.
Homemade popsicles. Naps in the
hammock. Playing outside until dark.
All the memories of childhood that
we think stay safely packed away in
the family photo album surface in the
way we go about daily activities like
fingerprints. However different each
person’s childhood may be, so much of
our adulthood is shaped by our child
hood experiences.
When I go home now or call my par
ents to tell them about my latest col
lege experience, I know they feel that I
am growing up and away from them.
In a way that is true. But, the experi
ences they gave me and the sacrifices
they made for me, gave me a model of
the type of parent I want to be.
Of all the things I remember about
the childhood that my parents made
for me, the one thing I don’t remember
is telling them thank you.
-Jenny Magee is a junior English
and journalism major
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u ^ ’7’ou’ll blink your
eyes, and the
next thing you’ll
know, they will be this
big,” my boyfriend’s fa
ther told the mother of
three squirming, bright
eyed children sitting at
the restaurant table next
to ours. Then he smiled at his own
grown sons.
The mother politely smiled back and
went about the business of freeing her
son from the straps of his high chair.
Maybe she pictured him in his prom
tuxedo or or envisioned his determined
look on a college-aged face. Maybe for a
brief moment she tasted the pain of re
leasing the child from her protection
and allowing him to live his own life.
She quietly glanced at the two older
sons, but was immediately distracted
by the younger son’s attempt to scoop a
handful of ketchup off his plate. He
was still two years old, and she was
still the center of his world. So the mo
ment passed without consequence —
like all the tiny moments that would
turn her baby son into a man.
But time alone cannot make a man
or a woman. It is the experiences that
begin the moment children breathe
their first breath of air that makes a
child an adult. And these experiences,
especially in early childhood, are deter
mined largely by they child’s parents.
My friends and I often talk about
how lucky we are to have been blessed
with parents who cared so much about
the type of people we would become.
I didn’t always feel this way. My
family’s importance to me was sharp
ened as college pulled me to the
perimeter of their world.
During junior high, on
certain days, I was
ashamed to admit that I
had parents, let alone be
seen in public with them.
One day when I was
about 13 years old, I
went to the movies with
my mother, but I made
her drop me off at the front door while
she parked the car. I didn’t want to be
seen walking into the popular teenage
hang-out with my mother. I can’t imag
ine how that must have hurt her.
There was this look on her face of
accepting pain. I think that was the
moment when my mother became a
person to me. It was the moment I re
alized how much she had sacrificed for
me. As children, we sometimes think
that it is the parents’ job to graciously
accept the backlash when time pulls us
in different directions and we are not
sure of which way to go.
During my high school years, there
was an ongoing struggle to break away
from their authority and to cling to it
at the same time.
“I want my own life. I want to make
my own mistakes,” I would tell my par
ents in the same conversation I had be
gun by asking their advice.
As most parents will tell you, parent
ing isn’t such an easy job. Children don’t
come equipped with a trouble-shooting
guide, and modern society doesn’t pro
vide an ideal child-rearing environment.
But the natural phenomenon of
growing up is often the most painful
obstacle for both parents and children
to come to terms with. From the
minute we are born, we begin to grow
up and away from our parent’s protec
tive grasp. Nature demands it of us.
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The Battalion
Established in 1893
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.
EDITORIAL BOARD
Mark Smith
Editor in chief
Jay Robbins Heather Winch
Senior Managing Managing editor
editor for Business
Sterling Hayman
Opinion editor
Erin Hill
Asst, opinion editor
Run with It
The newly appointed Texas A&M System
regents should make the most of their new jobs.
On Monday, Gov. George W. Bush
appointed three new regents to the
Texas A&M System. The three re
gents, who will each serve a six-year
term, will have much to deal with
during their terms.
As the A&M System grows, so too
does the responsibility of being a re
gent. With further expansion, new
problems will surely arise. For exam
ple, the attempt to merge Texas
A&M International University
into the University of Texas ^
System is something that
would have to be dealt
with by the new regents.
In addition, the new re
gents will be under in
tense public scrutiny, in
part due to the questionable
actions of past Texas A&M
System regents.
The new regents should be the ones
who redeem the public perception of
Texas A&M and her regents; their be
havior must be beyond reproach.
Regents are our leaders, in addi
tion to representing us. Instead of
causing problems, they must guide us
through them.
The Texas A&M System is sure to
experience more growing pains as it
moves into the 21st century. Our re
gents must be prepared to work
through those inevitable problems so
that A&M can remain a world-class
University.
One way to ensure A&M’s contin
ued world-class status is to keep lines
of communication open between the
regents and the students, faculty and
administration of A&M.
Currently, we do not have a
student representative on the
board of regents, which
means that the voice of the
.^\ student body is often easily
overlooked.
Regents should take
steps to include the stu
dent body’s concerns in
their decision making. They
also should seek out represen
tatives from the student body who
can serve as this liaison.
The priorities of the Texas A&M
System should be the same priorities
of those chosen to represent it.
Keeping the students, faculty and
administration in mind will help to
ensure that obligation is met.
The Texas A&M System is'a world
class one, and in turn should have re
gents with world-class performance
Mail
Playboy advertisement
not "highly detrimental"
I am writing in response to Marc
Woodruffs attack on the insidious Play
boy. Marc, I seriously think that he
needs to lighten up just a little bit.
I’ve been receiving Playboy monthly
for quite some time now. I don’t think
I’ve received any of the “highly detri
mental” effects he claims this magazine
is having on me, nor have any of my
friends. I did get a headache once while
reading one, but I think it was just
those cologne ads.
Try picking one up sometime. It’s ac
tually a pretty good read.
Deric K. Walpole
Class of ’92
Nude body represents
beauty, natural state
I am writing in response to the mail
call letter, “Playboy ad demeans
women, is detrimental to men as well”
on March 20.
First of all, as a woman, I was sad
dened to read this. I do not see how the
mere look of a naked body can be so of
fensive. It is a shame that the presence
of a naked body is lumped together with
pornography.
The human body is a work of art and
something beautiful to look at.
Playboy portrays this beauty, which
everyone beholds — women and men.
In no way is it demeaning or detri
mental. If nudity is in no way associat
ed with violence or sexual acts, how can
that be pornography?
We were all born into this world
naked and we all have bodies, so why
by ashamed to look at naked pictures of
women or men that are done in good
taste? The body is beautiful and not at
all offensive.
Furthermore, being naked is natural.
People who are so quick to push off con
servative ideas are missing the beauty
of life. Every time you see a naked body,
you should thank God for creating such
a beautiful creature. Peace — enjoy life.
Shelly R. Cormier
Class of ’93
Guns serve as easiest
way to kill people
In response to Trey Morton’s letter
on March 21, it is not as easy to kill a
person with a rock or a bat as it is to
kill a person with a gun. It just isn’t. I
ask Morton — what kind of gun had
he envisioned? Had he mentally
loaded this gun that killed people as
well as rocks?
I concede that it is possible to kill a
person with a rock or a bat, but honest
ly, would be be more frightened by a
mafia hit man threatening him with a
rock or a disgruntled worker with a
small handgun?
Marcus Goodyear
Class of ’97
Accompanied by two signatures
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Trip expands cultural horizons
Mexico excursion opens eyes to poverty, American behavior
D uring Spring Break,
everyone I met at
South Padre suggested
a trip to Matamoros, Mexico.
To be honest, the prospects of
50-cent beers and dollar mar-
garitas were tempting enough
to lure me across the border.
After a long day on the
beach, my spring break group
and I decided to venture south for no other clear reason than
to consume alcoholic beverages in mass quantities. Now that
I think about it, that was the underlying theme behind the
whole week of keg stands and beer bongs that was Spring
Break 1995, Padre style.
The night sky had settled over South Texas. Nursing our
sunburns with aloe vera and Anheuser Busch, we set out for
Mecca, or rather Matamoros.
Throughout the course of our 30-mile drive, the words my
mother said to me before I left for Padre 36 hours earlier
played over and over in my head.
“Drew, do not go to Mexico.”
“Come on Mom, you know I won’t.”
“And if you do, don’t drive your car. It will get stolen.”
Feeling guilty, yet excited, while at the same time nauseat
ed, I boogied down Texas 48; my best friend was in the passen
ger seat and three young women from t.u. were in the back.
As I tried to keep up with a group of people I thought were
my friends, I started thinking that I was indeed following the
Andretti family.
Stick together.
That was the message everyone voiced after we parked our
cars in Brownsville and headed across the border. With 19
people in our group, I figured sticking together wouldn’t be
too hard. Five minutes into Matamoros, we lost someone.
Fortunately, he resurfaced about 10 minutes later, and we
were able to continue our assault on the bars.
As we walked down the main strip towards another bar, I
was immediately struck by the overt poverty and wretched
ness of the citizens of Matamoros. Little kids lined the street
pushing one dollar packs of cigarettes, 75-cent roses and 50-
cent boxes of chiclets on the thrifty mass of drunken Ameri
can college students.
A dollar here, two dollars there, some smokes and a necklace.
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for these people. I am well
aware of the poverty that exists in the world. I had never had
the opportunity to be exposed to it first hand.
The remarks made on the streets by spring breakers hurt
my feelings. Tip jars in bars were left empty. The young kids '
and old women were being haggled for lower prices on their
goods. As if two bucks was too expensive to pay for a necklace._
Do business with these people, do not exploit them.
The sight of six- and seven-year-old kids wandering the
street, desperately trying to sell various goods, seemed nor
mal — which it was — yet perverse — which it also was.
Out of pity for these young vendors, I bought chiclets to
freshen my breath, a rose for a young lady and a necklace to
commemorate my trip.
All fear I had of going to Matamoros disappeared after ;
about 30 minutes. However, continuous viewing of the na- ;
tives’ plight made for a very sobering experience.
These people were so dependent on us to fuel their deca
dent excuse for an economy. It was sad.
Partying for pesos and exploiting this poor town by milk
ing it was far too tempting, for everyone else there.
I had fun, and it appeared as if it was fun the Mexican
people wanted us to have. But you’ve got to figure if there
was a better way to make a buck, they’d gladly take it. What
about cleaning up that place after the spring breakers are
gone? What about selling chiclets and cigarettes and roses?
What is life like in Matamoros in the eleven other months
out of the year?
Is it a living party or rather a living poverty?
These are the things we do not think about when we go
down there to party and to exploit and to consume large
quantities of alcohol for a low price.
Stop to think about the people of town you are invading.
Think about the people who sell the cigarettes, the chiclets
and the roses. Be kind to them.
Buy from them, and, what the hell, pay the price they ask,
not the one you bargain for.
They need our business, but they do not need our exploitation.
Have fun, go to Matamoros and show some respect to
those that call that city their home. As Americans we are
lucky, remember that. Be proud of that, but do not use it as
leverage to denounce another people.
Drew Diener is a junior English major