The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current, November 19, 2001, Image 11

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    Page 11
et high,
be the na®.
onday, November 19, 2001
THE BATTALION
to this will
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is a circle on!
ie centerpoleij
vith 27 piecei;
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: of the vie;
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d how it
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in 292 Met
fhey will al
designs at
llery throett
...And they call it 4 Aggie Bonfire 7
The future of Bonfire
rests in the hands of
A&M y s current students
methingTo-P response to Melissa
>mber: rSullivan's Nov. 15 article:
> Can Do II |
15-0569 Mexas A&M’s Department
TTALION of Student Activities told
—Fightin’ Texas Aggie
mpetition Cheer Squad
| exclude “Aggie” from its
me and the A&M logo
m its uniforms because
'eral alumni complained
University officials. The
|imni said they are wor-
d the squad will be con
ed with the Aggie Yell
taders.
hat idea is baseless
cause everyone who
*i tches A&M football
|lj ows the yell leaders are
male. However, the
_est outrage is that
University officials and
mbers of the student
y are fighting the squad,
^or A&M officials to ask a
student organization that is
rking in good faith and
h the purpose of bring-
positive attention to the
tiool not to use the Aggie
name or logo is a slap in
K face for all their work
■d effort. They have the
■ht to use the Aggie
. ■me, because they are
■IGSS Aggies. They have the right
to use the logo because
this is their school,
ge Station 'No one wants to see the
Waldenb# P leaders replaced, or
OCflA even * iave to s l’ iare th e ' r
ODU'’' traditional spirit responsi-
$ 59 9
Dn
•ed Agent
bilities at Midnight Yell or
the games.
They simply want to com
pete against the squads at
other universities. There is
nothing wrong with that. It
could be a good thing for
the university to be repre
sented in another area of
competition.
These students should
be commended for taking
an initiative. They have
been fought every step of
the way by not only the
university, but by their
own student body. That is
truly the saddest part of
this situation.
The school that prides
itself on unity, tradition
and the importance of
family is turning on its
own because it worries
about what others might
think.
The squad simply wants
the ability to cheer at
competitions around the
country and show their
school spirit and pride.
What the University and
the student body need to
worry about is the mes
sage this sends to other
Aggies and future Aggies
who want to take a chance
and do something new.
Shame on the University
officials for trying to take
away the freedoms of its
students because of alum
ni’s threats. Most of all,
shame on the student body
for not supporting its fel
low students.
Joseph Pleasant
Class of 2003
Accompanied by
three signatures
Uncartoonist
uncool
not
Let me say that your
Nov. 16 cartoon was a ray
of light that broke through
Friday’s dreary sky. As a
playwright, I have to whole
heartedly admit that I enjoy
your style, even though I
may not agree with your
madness. I am usually the
guy who has to explain all
your cartoons to all his
friends.
As for those readers
who did not get it on Friday,
I believe the message illus
trated how people try to
use technicalities to get
away with things, much like
the University’s bureaucrat
ic systems. And if you actu
ally thought it had some
thing to do with rocks, then
you are a rockhead for tak
ing the cartoon too literally.
Borrowing a line from
the movie Top Gun, I say to
you, Uncartoonist, “You can
be my wingman anyday.”
Matthew V. Parker
Class of 2002
CARTOON OF THE DAY
T he story of Texas Aggie Bonfire
defies explanation. Words can only
clumsily describe an experience that
has to be lived to be understood, and even
if it never burns again.
Bonfire will always exem
plify Aggie spirit.
That is because Bonfire
is no longer solely about a
towering stack of logs and
a football rivalry. It also
connotes the memory of
those who perished doing
something they loved.
In the early-morning hours of Nov.
18, 1999, the 90th Aggie Bonfire col
lapsed, claiming the lives of 12 Aggies
and injuring 27 others. The story that
unfolded in the days, weeks and months
afterward is engraved in the hearts and
minds of Aggies every
where. In Reed Arena the
„ night of the collapse, then-
Lt. Gov. Rick Perry, Class of
1972, said, “We will remember
them as long as there is a
Texas A&M and Aggie spir
it, and that, my friends, is
forever.”
And so we have.
Two years later. Aggies have
moved on. Wounds of the heart
are still healing, but the Aggie
family mourns no more. And
Aggies will never forget —
Nov. 18 will always be a day of
observance in Aggieland.
What Aggies did in the
aftermath of the 1999 Aggie
Bonfire collapse proved that
Bonfire embodies everything
the Aggie spirit should be. It
proved that Bonfire is about
people who cared for each
other — a bond of unity that
transcends everything else. In
Aggieland on Nov. 18, 1999,
fate proved the old adage that,
“From the outside looking in,
you can’t understand it. From
the inside looking out, you
can’t explain it.”
The world looked upon A&M
the day of the collapse with eyes
filled with tears of grief and a
sparkle of admiration. Bonfire
proved that there is no place
like Aggieland and no peo
ple like Texas Aggies.
“The A&M student body is
truly one of the greatest
treasures of our state,” wrote
Eric Opiela, vice president of student
government at the University of Texas-
Austin, of the memorial service in Reed
Arena. “As part of the UT delegation, we
sat on the floor of Reed Arena, and imme
diately following the end of the service, I
heard this rustling sound behind me. I
looked over my shoulder and saw the sight
of 20,000 students spontaneously putting
their arms on their neighbor’s shoulders,
forming a great circle around the arena. The
mass stood there in pin-drop silence for
close to five minutes; then, from some
where, someone began to hum quietly the
hymn ‘Amazing Grace.’ Within seconds,
the whole arena was singing. I tried, too —
I choked, I cried. This event brought me to
tears. It was one, if not the, defining
moment of my college career. I learned
something tonight. For all us Longhorns
who discount A&M in our never-ending
rivalry, we need to realize one thing:
Aggieland is a special place with special
people. It is infinitely better equipped than
us at dealing with a tragedy such as this for
one simple reason: it is a family. It is a
family that cares for its own, a family that
reaches out, a family that is unified in the
face of adversity, a family that moved this
Longhorn to tears.”
Even rivalry was set aside the next week
when A&M played UT. UT’s annual Hex
Rally, their version of a pre-game yell prac
tice, was canceled and replaced with a
memorial service. The Longhorn Band ded
icated its halftime performance to the 12
fallen Aggies, and in rare form, the 12th
Man remained standing for the perform
ance.
This year, the horizon above the Polo
Fields is void of what should be there.
Since 1909, Aggieland has been without
a Bonfire only three years. In 1963, Aggies
decided to forgo their Bonfire as a memori
al to slain President John F. Kennedy.
“It is the most we have and the least we
can give,” said Head Yell Leader Mike
Marlowe when the decision to not burn
Bonfire was made.
In 1994, Bonfire fell days before it was
to bum. There were no injuries or deaths,
and students and alumni flocked to the Polo
Fields to rebuild the shrine.
Aggies were not so lucky in 1999.
A&M President Dr. Ray M. Bowen can
celed Bonfire the day of the collapse — a
decision that remains in limbo today. The
commission tasked with investigating the
1999 collapse forced the A&M community
to confront the stark reality of a tradition
that was out of control. Resistance to
change and “tunnel vision” caused adminis
trators to ignore safety concerns and to
allow a complex structure to be built by
untrained students whose immature behav
ior had become an embarrassment.
“If I had to allow my heart to make the
decision, we’d have a Bonfire,” Bowen said
after the commission presented its report.
“But my heart won’t make the decision —
my brain has to make the decision.”
That chapter of Bonfire history remains
unwritten today as Bowen determines the
fate of Bonfire 2002.
Bonfire has become a point of con
tention among Aggies, dividing the A&M
family. Some are upset that Bonfire has
been postponed. Others fear it will never
burn again, and critics oppose the idea of
trying to bring back Bonfire.
But consensus on campus is clear: the
spirit of Bonfire is dying as each year pass
es without the blaze. Dorm unity, some
students say, is almost non-existent, and the
Classes of 2004 and 2005 have no concept
of what Bonfire means and why it is impor
tant to Aggies. They do not realize that
Aggie Bonfire is a culture unto itself — a
staple of Aggies and Aggieland.
The evolution of Bonfire is not a simple
story, though. Rather, it is a saga decorated
with legend, lore, mystery and tradition.
The blueprints for Bonfire are in the
souls of those who love Bonfire, and a pas
sion for tradition has perpetuated all the
knowledge necessary to build Bonfire from
generation to generation. Though no writ
ten documentation exists. Bonfire has sur
vived 90 years. Today, its future hangs in
the balance.
Each facet of Bonfire culture is special
in the heart of everyone who helped build it
and everyone who watched it burn — a
The consensus on campus is
clear: the spirit of Bonfire is
dying with each passing year.
manifestation of their burning desire to
“beat the hell outta t.u.” and enjoy the fel
lowship of thousands of Aggies.
That culture, though, is fading away.
Bonfire knowledge is compartmentalized
— no single person can recount Bonfire
legend in its entirety. The good and the bad
of that tradition are waning as Aggies grad
uate, because each who knows about
Bonfire is part of a greater whole: the liv
ing institutional memory of Bonfire.
In 1963, non-cadets were, for the first
time, allowed to join the Corps of Cadets in
building Bonfire. Since then, friendly rival
ry and mutual respect have been bred by
that relationship. Today, though, the two
factions have no connection. That must
change before it is too late.
A 1963 Battalion editorial commented
on a situation similar to that in which
Aggies find themselves today.
“We will readily admit that construction
of the Aggie Bonfire does not do much for
academic quality of our University,” the
editorial stated. “But one thing is for sure:
The construction of the world’s largest
Bonfire — which the Aggie Bonfire most
certainly is — demonstrates one of the
characteristics that have won Aggies respect
around the world. That one characteristic is
the Aggies’ ability to take on the biggest
jobs of all and then do them well.
“We want to promise the fish who have
never worked on an Aggie Bonfire before
that they are about to undergo an experi
ence they will never forget and one that
will seldom be matched — regardless of
what they might accomplish during their
lives. For many of the Class of 1967, the
Aggie Bonfire will be their first experi
ence to accomplish the apparently impos
sible. Learn the lessons well and it will go
with you through life.”
Members of the Classes of 2004 and
2005: That message applies to you, too,
and the future of Bonfire is in your hands.
Act now, or it will be lost forever. Those
who will come after you await your lead
ership in ensuring Bonfire burns in the
future. Those in Aggieland today await
your willingness to accept their knowledge.
A blueprint for Aggie Bonfire is enclosed
in today’s newspaper.
The hearts of Aggies are devout, and the
spirit of Aggieland can ne’er be told.
But it can certainly be seen.
Brady Creel is a junior
journalism and management major.