Page 4 University Daily Kansan, April 14, 1981
Opinion
Budget's not so sacred
"Don't touch that budget!" seems to be the recent battle cry from the White House to Capital Hill. Speaking for the convalsesking president, Vice President Bush last week in no uncertain terms "ordered" Congress to pass Reagan's proposed 1982 budget intact. Bush almost insulted that changing the budget would be considered un-American.
The White House obviously fears that the proposed budget will be so watered down and dissected by Congress that it'll lose whatever economic punch it holds now. And if budget committees allow special interests to take over—like they did with President Carter's once-bold energy program—then the fear is justified.
But the president can't expect Congress
to leave such a radical budget untouched.
Reagan not only slashed social programs to the bone; at the same time he sharply boosted defense appropriations—meaning that to reduce the original Carter proposal by $40 billion, social programs had to be cut even more. A good segment of Congress is bound to question such guns-without-butter fiscal strategy.
Congress, after all, isn't in the habit of blindly rubber-stamping the president in budgetary matters, and chances are it won't start now. The White House will have to accept some modifications—including the restoration of some social funds at the expense of defense—if the radical budget is to be passed at all. If Reagan gets even $20 billion in reduced annual deficit, he should be quite satisfied.
Imitations of other cultures ignore Midwest's advantages
A man sat at a wooden table, under the shade of a palm tree. A gentle breeze fanned the green foliage that surrounded him as he turned to greet a native woman who brought him a tall glass of wine.
At first glance, this scene seems idyllic, but unfortunately the harmony was marred by a few minor faults.
To name a few, the palm tree was plastic, the iced tea was instant, the native woman was a
VANESSA
HERRON
native of southern Kansas and her mumm was made of hot-pink polyster.
In addition, the restaurant in question is called the Kona Kafe (that's kafé with a 'k')—one of the hot spots in the Hutchinson, Kan., Holiday Inn.
The entire motel, in fact, is built on a Hawaiian theme, complete with palm trees, swimming pools and a magnificent Mai Tai.
Outside the Holiday Inn on that day, a Kansas rainstorm was in progress. It was the kind of storm that stirs the spring air and leaves the fields clean and toasted.
Inside the Holiday Inn was a climate-controlled nightmare.
To be fair, maybe the Holiday Im is not such a ba-
fare, and maybe there is a market for pre-
fabricated furniture.
But unfortunately, this particular motel is a symptom of the problem that exists in Middlebury, Virginia. It is in the Midway.
In this part of the country, the builders, the planners, the arts counsellors—who seem to dictate taste—all tend to ignore their own needs and show the cultures of other states or other countries.
In the immediate area, Kansas City, Mo. offers some of the most striking examples of this sport's power.
In the nearby Country Club Plaza, one can find a table—but they are much bigger, and much tackler.
In one affluent neighborhood, almost every corner is graced with a pseudo-classical sculpture. On one lawn, smirking cherubs stand frozen in the midst of cutesy contortions, and on the next lawn limestone lions loll their tongues at passing cars.
one entire Plaza is built after a Spanish mott, and it is filled with fountains that are infested with algae.
According to ad campaigns that usually surface at this time, the Plaza is the best place to get a job.
A few years ago, Plaza merchants decided to hire a bigwig, a British radio spokesman, brightly coloured, i.e. British, radio spokesman.
"This spring, come and experience the Plaza," he purred over the airwaves.
(In this case, Plaza was pronounced "Plahhz-
zuh.")
Understandably, most of the ignorant
Ambitious needed his command were
suitable impressed.
This year, Kansas City's unrequited love affair with Western Europe continues.
Just last Sunday, a society editor breathtlessly announced the theme of a three-week salute to the French culture.
"The next best thing to spending April in Paris is to taste Paris in Kansas City," she wrote. "And that's just what will be offered residents of Mid-America this weekend."
The underlying message that story can be
ruthlessly editing the preceding
passage;
passage.
"The next best thing . . . is . . . Kansas City."
"The next best thing . . . is . . . Kansas City."
Those who influence taste in Kansas City, and communities like it, convey the message that the Midwest is "the nation." They seem to be nodding in obedience that the United States consists of an East Coast, a West Coast and a dark void in between.
between
Perhaps they believe this message. And after constant exposure to it, perhaps we all believe it too.
Many Kansans also seem to believe that the past is better, and that the imported past is better still. This attitude can lead to disastrous results.
For example, what would have happened if the ancient Greeks had settled for Genuine Synthetic Egyptian sculpture? Or if they had built pre-fab pyramids instead of the Parthenon?
Athens was nothing like Cairo and it never tried to be.
Instead, the city slows developed its own
immediately based on its own strengths and
weaknesses.
Perhaps the Kansas City Chamber of Commerce could learn to do the same.
Believe it or not, this part of the Midwest has strong points. There are a variety of Indian cultures, Kansas City jazz, barbecue, wheat fields, cattle, hand-made quilts, and native limestone buildings that rise strong and honest above the small towns.
The austere beauty of the Flint Hills in the winter does not exist anywhere else. And in his watercolors, Robert Sudlow, a KU professor of fine arts, manages to capture that beauty.
Another artist wrote this description:
"There might be hot, still noons above a wildness of clover. Or again, it might be a stair El Greco horizon, pregnant with inky rain and a passing glimpse of quicksilverish water and harsh, green corn, the whole arrangement open like a fan, somewhere in Kansas."
Surprisingly, this passage was not written by the author, the pulitzer Prize-winning editor and tireless writer.
Instead, the passage was taken from "Lolita" by Valadimir Nabakov. And it raises a perplexing question: If an Eastern European man creates the unique beauty of Kansas, why can't we?
Admittedly, Kansas City is not New York or paris, and palm trees will never flourish in the city.
Only by recognizing their strong points and establishing their own identities will Midwestern cities graduate from second-rate imitations to first-rate originals.
But the fact remains that if we continue to judge the Midwest by standards set elsewhere, the Midwest will always be "the next best thing."
In the meantime, a good first step would be to correct the splitting of the Kona Kafé—or better
Soviet trip leaves lasting memories
Sheremetyevo Airport provides foreign tourists with their first impressions of Moscow. It is ultra-modern, well-maintained and impeccably clean. Built for last year's Olympic Games, Sheremetyevo was designed as a symbol of Soviet socialist achievement.
However, the Sunday evening I arrived, with a small delegation of KU students, it was like a deserted movie set from Star Wars. At the time of day when La Guardia and O'Hare are bustling with activity, Sheremetyevo was open only to authority and not to fans. This tranquil and well-ordered world was to be a glaring contrast to the week in Moscow that awaited us.
moscow is a sprawling metropolis of some 8 million people. It is also grim, sober and an exceedingly difficult place in which to live. Daily life is worse than anyone unfamiliar with the rules and regulations and the endless lines can imagine. At the same time, Muscovies maintain close family ties and friendships with a passion Americans long ago abandoned.
Certain images of that week continue to haunt my memory: the design of the city itself, for instance, which was extensively rebuilt after the bitterly fought invasion by the Nazis. The scale of new Moscow is overwhelming—endless high rise of buildings on either side of enormous boulevards. A person is swallowed up; even sidewalls crammed with people don't appear crowded.
The conditions of the buildings themselves were also appalling. High-rises, whose top floors were being completed, already showed signs of wear on the brand-new floors below. The building had been declared a appeal of a 20-year-old Holiday Inn. The workmanship was slipshod; windows weren't hung properly and plumbing was unpredictable. If this is a model construction job for visitors, it can only wonder what a typical home would be like in incidentally, that couldn't be arranged for us).
with aggressive shopmers will not be forgotten quickly either. An afternoon in GUM, the famous department store adjacent to Red Square, was like a hotel. On a Tuesday, with surging crowds abandoning all manners. The immediate sensation of claustrophobia that swept over me after
the crowded stores and food markets filled
DAVID
HENRY
I entered a good market on KAlinaine Prospect was truly frightening. People were hostile in their fight for scarce meat, milk and produce.
Everything appeared to be in short supply—particularly food and luxury items such as toiletries—and, when available, far below American standards. Food counters, when you finallyought your way to the front, had already been emptied. Such scarcity provokes impulse buying when anything becomes available. I remember daffodils being snatched up by the armful by a group of shoppers surprised to find them in early March.
Adding to the problem is the dramatic rise in prices—more than 50 percent for restaurant meals, carpets and overcoats (among other things) in 1980; 300 percent for coffee the year before, according to one Western estimate. This undoubtedly affects most blue- and white-collar workers, most of whom are earning slightly more than they did 10 years ago.
It also stimulates buying and selling scarce goods on the black market. This illegal and oftimes risky activity is a central part of many Russian's lives. Quality merchandise when it becomes available is usually昂贵 offended by its appearance before being sold at the marketplace. Shop counters may be empty but the closets of many resourceful Muscovites are full.
Anything Western, particularly fashion, is highly treasured and sought after on the black market. Almost everyone in our delegation was approached countless times with offers to buy or trade for blue jeans or women's pantyhose at prices far exceeding their American value. Such transactions are risky however; plainclothes police also are interested in curbing these embarrassing deals.
Although better than anyplace else in the Soviet Union, life in Moscow is tough. People must scramble, often illegally, to maintain a decent standard of living. Yet in spite of their hardships, Soviets have a spirit which finds pleasure in things we often take for granted.
An evening in a crowded hotel restaurant or dancing to Russian folk songs was unmatched by anything in New York or Los Angeles. He'd been danced with an abandon I'd never experienced.
Or the flushed excitement of young children eavesdropping in on our English tour of the Armory Museum, hearing the exotic language spoken by native speakers for perhaps the first time.
Muscovites, in spite of dreary winters, frustrating bureaucracy and constant scarcity, seem determined to enjoy life in spite of all its difficulties. Such perseverance can't help but be admired and makes me wonder how Americas could stand up in a time of shortages and hardship.
Leaving Moscow a week later, all of us undoubtedly were changed. As I flew to Helsinki, I was thankful for the American passport that gave me free passage out of the country. Moscow is indeed a sobering city with far-reaching problems.
These problems, which are almost insumountable, will be solved only by the spirit and dedication of its people—its greatest asset—not its totalitarian bureaucracy. Sadly, I wonder if this government will ever bend enough to let that energy take its course.
Letters to the Editor
KU-Wichita State game fears unfounded
To the editor:
Tracee Hamilton's column, "Shocker fans reason to ignore WSU," represents the latest installation in a continuing litany of foolish objections to a KU-WSU basketball series. First, these misguided Jayhawks argued WSU was not good enough to play KU; considering the recent game, this was an obviously incorrect assumption.
Then they argued WSU was not a major college; of course, KU often plays Division II schools far smaller than WSU. Next they said that the crowds attracted by intrastate rivalries and the small travel costs, this is another doubtful conclusion. Finally they claimed the Jayhawks could not find time in their busy schedule for Murray State or at Fresno for Murray State and a host of other unknowns.
How, as a last gasp, can these KU fans say WSU fans are rude and KU should not play teams with rude fans? In my six years at KU, I have either witnessed or participated in several activities at basketball games, many of which were played by any stretch of the imagination, were rude.
These activities included commenting on the diet of KSU fans; stealing hats off the heads of OU fans; attempts to hang posters depicting Cowbies and Cornhuskers in compromising positions; and numerous other examples of poor taste.
Beisuerst supporters are a part of college basketball, just as much as players and coaches are. If they were not, we could hold our games in the sanctity and sterility of empty auditoriums and simply sell TV rights instead of tickets. Although KU fans can hardly cast the whole no school should be condemned for "rude" fans, fans are rude; that is largely part of the game.
It is time for the vanquished Jayhawks and
their loyal fans to stand up and take their medicine. Certainly play WSU is not the bitter pill many thought it would be; KU just happened to lose this time around. If KU refuses to schedule a series with WSU, we can all expect to continue to hear the moans of those who refuse to face reality and lame excuses, such as Hamilton's instead.
John L. Carmichael
John L. Carnegie
Lawrence graduate student
Crowds not rowdy
At Henry Levitt Arena in Wichita I saw Shocker fans cheering for KU in its narrow victory over Mississippi. I also remember Shocker being cheered for KU in its victory over Arizona State.
To the editor:
On national television, I watched Wichita State beat KU and nowhere did I see a rude Shocker
Rodney Ruvalcaba Wichita law student
Blindness irrelevant To the editor.
Did it ever occur to you, Tracee Hamilton, that regularly scheduling a KU-Wichita state game might cure the 28 years of animosity between the two schools? If you sensed a note of resentment in New Orleans, it was not because Shocker fans in Kansas were contrary, there is no finer group of supporters in Kansas. That resentment stems from this University's policy of treating a major state university's athletic program as if it were nonexistent.
Bedny Boulakeh
We read with interest your article of April 8 concerning increased use of the University's computers. We are pleased that you sought the sage advice of Charles E. Hallenbeck, professor
of psychology. However, as students and friends of Hallenbeck, we were offended by your gratuitous reference to his blindness. That he is blind is sad, but it is also irrelevant to your story.
As responsible journalists, you must surely understand the desire of people who are blind or black or upside-down on Fridays to be respected for their achievements rather than their han-
Hallenbeck is a fine man and a fully productive member of the University community; this is neither because of, nor despite, his blindness. I am not sure why he kept evagant information on the sports page.
Robert B. Estill
Lawrence graduate student Anne E. Kennedy
Lawrence graduate student
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