Opinion
Page 4 University Daily Kansan, September 11. 1981
Let them eat ketchup
"Guns or butter" is an awfully snappy, if overused, characterization of the difficult choice facing conscientious American administrators.
At least it's supposed to be difficult. This time, however, the administrators haven't been too conscientious and the choices haven't been so difficult. A case in point is "butter" in the form of the invaluable nutrition provided by federal school lunch programs. Chalk one up for guns.
The Reagan team met Wednesday to discuss where additional cuts in the 1982 budget would be made in pursuit of the elusive $42.5 billion deficit in 1982.
But this quibbling over $3 billion in planes here or $5 billion in tanks there comes too late. The Weinberger-Stockman debate is small comfort to those who will be hit by as much as $15 billion in additional cuts in social services.
This high-level hand-wringing means nothing to more than 27 million American children whose school lunches will have
"refined nutrition standards" if the Department of Agriculture wins approval for one of its brilliant budget proposals. The changes, which include smaller portions, are on top of $1.5 billion in school lunch cuts Congress has already approved.
Nothing too significant, you know; just making ketchup and pickle relish count as vegetables, or using peanut butter or nuts as a main dish. Nothing too significant, except that for entirely too many children, a well-balanced lunch is the sole source of good nutrition.
There is apparently no demilitarized zone in the battle of the budget. No social services, even those that can't be labeled "need-creating" or "self-perpetuating," are safe from the crude aim of these regressive salvos.
The Reagan administration has conveniently forgotten the difficulty of the "guns or butter" problem. As long as the guns are in their warehouses, it seems to matter little whether there is butter to nourish poverty's hapless victims.
Appreciation for grandparents should last more than a day
The FTD man is at it again and before the weekend is over he will have had his way with many of us. If our billfolds are not raped by the golden-suited man with winged beels, our pockets will surely be pillaged by his cohorts in the wallet card and boxed chocolate industries.
We won't mind our wallets being ravaged, though, because the price of a potted plant or a box of assorted creams is small compared to the
CORAL BEACH
guilt we would be forced to endure knowing that
That's right, Mother's Day in May, Father's
Day in September, Parent's Day in
September. Where will it stop?
Of course In-Law's Day is already on the calendar, but the heart and flower pushers have chosen to ignore it so far. And what about all of those auctions and uncles out there? Don't they deserve a little recognition too? The folks at Hallmark must be slipping.
True, most mothers, fathers and grandparents do deserve an occasional pat on the back, but big business doesn't necessarily deserve to make a profit from it. Nor does the American public campaigned be bombarded with advertising campaigns designed to induce feelings of guilt and anxiety.
With Grandpa'rent's Day now on the calendar,
touching commercials featuring tye-eyed,
silver-haired men and jolly, overweight old
men with a smile. September, Each year, announcers will remind
September. Each year, announcers will remind
us of all that our grandparents have done for us and all that we haven't done for them; quick and easy solutions to the imbalance will be offered.
"Let them know you really care. Send them
"Fill in the blank with your choice of.
- an attractive card, complete with a sentimental verse that you were too busy to write your own
- a box of candy that will aggravate their high blood pressure and their diabetes.
There are also non-traditional gift options available to grandchildren this Sept. 13. Why not offer to wash and wax Gramps he. Probably would appreciate it more than a bunch of daisies, and it would last longer too. Or better yet, make a deal with him to wash it every week. Who says Sports Illustrated is the only gift that can keep on giving?
As far as Grandma is concerned, how about cooking Sunday dinner for her for a change? Granted, washing the car and cooking dinner don't sound too impressive, but Grandparent's Day is not designed to impress people. Its purpose is to encourage grandchildren to spend time with their grandparents and let them know they are appreciated.
Actually it's rather sad that Grandparent's Day had to be put on the calendar. If they are only remembered once a year, many grandparent feel quite forgotten a great deal of the time.
The idea behind Grandparent's Day is a good one, and the fact that free enterprise is exploiting the idea doesn't automatically negate the positive aspects of the day.
Traps set by the florists and candy stores should be avoided this Sunday, but Grandparents should not. Grandparents do deserve the very best, and to them their grandchildren are probably the very best. Give them what they deserve.
Letters to the Editor
PATCO has petty demands
To the Editor:
What strikes me about PATCO's behavior is the low stakes the strikers are playing for. They are wielding a powerful weapon that already has inflicted large losses on the airlines and on innocent bystanders, and they are counting on their damage. Their goals are so petty and unimaginable that no one can afford wealth (from an average of $32,000 to $60,000 yearly), and a shorter work week.
Should we really condone their gambling with other people's welfare for such stakes? Strikes are supposed to hit the employers, who have the means to avert them, not innocent bystanders. This is why strikes by public employees are outlawed.
What goals could be commensurate with PATCO's action? Look at Solidarity in Poland, as Michael Welsh did in his Sept. 2 letter. Their eyes are open for the welfare of the whole society. But even Solidarity's vision for freedom and bread pales before H. G. Wells' vision of air controller power. The sky is the limit. In his 1933 book, "The Shape of Things to Come," Wells sees civilization falling apart after a second World War until the Aviators' Association—in alliance with shipping—resolutely assumes absolute power by refusing transport.
For the next century, the Air Control governs the world under the lofty principles of peace, lifelong creative education for all and abolition of nationalism and religion as instigators of nationalism. The Air Control recognizes scientists and incorruptible officials dedicated to a frugal life of public service without personal
aspirations, and democracy as such has faded because only the well-institutionalized can make them.
With such a scenario for the future, no wonder President Reagan took PATCO seriously!
Katie D. Christiansen
Assistant professor of business
I was a bit dishearred to note the failure of Jane Neufeld (Sept. 1 Kanan) to mention one small but rather interesting factor that should be mentioned in mentioning the side-effects of contraceptives.
In 1974 the Food and Drug Administration finally granted approval for the marketing of the much safer "low-dose" contraceptives, some to six years after women in Communist China were vaccinated. Prior to 1974, oral contraceptives marked in this country were of the "high-dose" formula.
Virtually all the risks associated with oral contraceptives have stemmed from the early, 'high-dose' formula. It is not at all surprising to recent study that Neufeld referred to these terms for women who had taken the 'high-dose' formula ago were significantly higher than non-users.
Effects of the Pill
To the Editor:
The University Daily
Business Manager
Larry Lheengood
John Oberan
Rick Musser
Clay Center law student
For what I would consider to be an enlightened alternative to the traditionally negative treatment of oral contraceptives in the press today, I would suggest reading "The Politics of Contraception" by Stanford University chemist Carl Djersaian. D.F. Martin
KANSAN
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Editor
Scott C. Faust
Sales and Marketing Adviser ...
General Manager and News Adviser
KU should breed tolerance. not hate
There was a circle of hate on this campus last week. It formed outside of Flint each afternoon, composed of students who taunted and jeered at one Jed Smock, an evangelist. But as some vocal yokels were replaced this week by more thoughtful students, the "circle of hate" dissolved, if not from wisdom, at least from boredom. The hot-stools took their pot shots at tables, and away smug and satisfied, to engross themselves in their more routine amusements.
Cool logic took the place of hot air, and the change was as refreshing as a summer rainstorm. The students who stayed had questions, considerations and challenges that were moderated by a willingness to listen. The baiting became debating.
As a student-journalist, I was drawn to the circle by a fascination for such open-field debate as Lincoln and Douglas or Darrow and Bryan once waged; innovative, dueling deeds of minds.
Open debate sometimes necessarily involves sticking the knife into someone else's values with an unfinchning thrust. Often it also involves, perhaps unnecessarily, twisting the knife with relish. Neither Lincoln nor Douglas hesitated to twist the knife on occasion during their debates. Both had sharp wit and nimble minds, and both accepted the barbs as part of the debate.
However, it was less advisable for Jed to "twist the knife" in his comments. His was not a formal debate, and so could not claim all of the conventions of one. Also, he possessed far more age, experience and knowledge of the subject matter than did his opponents.
But the man did have provocation. Here was a former professor being ridiculed by enough students to fill a classroom—but had they actually been in a classroom, they likely would have suffered these same ideas with nary a word, whether from unthinking adherence to convention, or simply for the sake of a grade. And since he was not a teacher of knowledge, some students mocked him. It would have taken Saint Paul himself to withstand the temptation to return some of the jibes.
The first afternoon Jed was here I sat among the circle, surrounded by the same feeling that must have been endemic to France's Reign of Terror. This day was a moment of the South's "Restoration," from which this
But on subsequent afternoons I was greatly reassured by the transformation that occurred. There was less agitation and more cogitation. It was clear that the changes could be wrought by a man with convictions.
country never has recovered). I saw unthinking intolerance; I saw outright hate; I saw many cowards ganging up on a solitary man who spoke his convictions.
I make no bones about the fact I admire the man. I guarantee I will admire any one of you who will stand before a crowd all day and battle
BEN
IONES
for your convictions. I wonder how many of you or subject yourselves to that. (I can tell you I would
It is an assurance, in this country founded on freedom of thought and speech, that, although the unthinking may prevail in unimportant matters (such as whether Molly Hatchet gave a concert at KU), they soon lose interest in more vital concerns and leave consideration and concern of such matters to those who are primarily willing to hear, and only secondarily, to be heard.
Critics of our government say its power is concentrated in the hands of a few, yet the actions of the few are only made potent by the inaction of the many. Those who content themselves with more rebel rels will have a small voice at any Apomattox.
Some of you might claim Jed Smock has no right to disturb the cloistered atmosphere of a college campus. More than half a century ago, William Allen White refuted that in a Pultzer Prize-winning editorial called "To an Anxious Friend."
White wrote, "Peace is good. But if you are interested in peace through force and without free discussion—that is to say, free utterance decently and in order—your interest in justice is to have your voice heard." This is the part of last week's more reckless 'debaters'—although I saw a great deal free (in the
sense a hurricane is free to rampage where it will utterance.
Let's get back, in our heads not on paper, or the concept of a university: a free body of thinkers who have come together for the ex-act purposes. Mock is here with some ideas. Ergo, he belongs.
Of course we can reject his ideas. It is our right to ignore or argue. It is not our right to ridicule or slander. Argument should be from a sincere attempt to arrive at truth, not a desire to promote discord. Whether or not you agree with Jed's beliefs is immaterial to his right as a citizen of these United States to be heard, not shouted down.
The Bill of Rights is nothing but principles. It is a piece of paper, it is a grocery list. The goods are delivered by upholding these principles. I wager you cannot find a student on this campus you will not approve of First Amendment rights to print in print and then I'll bet double-or-nothing for the centage of students who disapprove of First Amendment freedoms in the flesh.
It doesn't matter whether those rights happen to cloth themselves in a polyester suit and point a finger of accusation from the Almighty, or whether those rights speak from lips that aren't Arabian or Iranian. They are the embodiment, the substance of the grocery list we claim to cherish so much.
Granted, jed is a lot to swallow. He can be outrageous, clownish, provocative, smug. He can also be sensible. We need to pay more attention to a speaker's message; less to his method. A speaker may muster him. he may lisp. He may say "iin't" instead of "iin't". He may wear a bow tie and thick glasses. It does not matter. What matters is the message. Eccentric bears no correlation to rightness. Einstein was eccentric; he was also right, as far as we know.
Perhaps it was this consideration that caused eyebrows this week to trowr not in anger, but in thought. The circle drew in closer, the voices became quieter. Even after Jed had gone one afternoon, there remained clusters of people pursuing their own convictions and doubts. They were in earnest, but they were calm. Out of the large circle they had formed several smaller circles, like beads of water that remain after a summer rainstorm.
--originally commissioned by KU alum John M. Simpson for his Salina home. (The flashy name.) It seems Simpson decided to sell the house and donate the piece to KU. I'm sure the traffice booth workers that have to look at it day after day are pleased.
If you somehow missed it, the "sculpture" resembles a denuded construction site. The thing is huge. It lay on its back all summer and it collapsed in a vertical position on a base this week.
I don't like to bite the hand that feeds us, but the guy who donated the black monstrosity now posing as art at 16th and Indiana did us no favor.
The artist, Dale Eldred, named the sculpture "Salina Piece." The work was
The definition of art has been debated for centuries, but one thing is for sure: "Sailin Piece" doesn't measure up to any conceivable definition. In my mind, it's 40 tons of black steel sitting in the middle of a beautiful green field that used to be perfect for playing Frisbee and football. But, no longer. The first down-and-out pass pattern would result in the receiver being clothes-lined by a two-ton steel girder.
First, there are the over-the-shoulder stereores—10-pound music makers that were sure to impair the hearing of everyone within a one mile radius of them. Now, people are driving, bike riding and roller skating to their own tunes, with lightweight, battery-
Let's hear it for technology. It has provided us with another way to tolerate ourselves
**Inspiration:**
operated radios and cassette tape players and tiny headphones that allow the "in-tune" listeners to "tute-out" the real world.
I wouldn't mind the wonder machines so much if their owners didn't tend to step in front of cars (because they can't hear the cars' horns) and perform other suicidal feats.
I do not remember when I first heard about Title IX.
Music is supposed to be enjoyed and appreciated, not used to alienate and annihilate.
It was bad enough when I had to listen to everyone else's music from over-the-shoulder stereos, but it is more irritating to constantly play the same deaf audiophiles created by the minstereos.
Are we really so selfish that we have to block out society 24 hours a day? I realize hearing the sounds of the city is not as soothing as listening to James Taylor, but one's ears can endure only so much audio abuse.
Most of the heated discussions about whether a law could or should eliminate sex discrimination in public schools meant nothing to me until I entered the ninth grade.
Even then, I was more confused than angry when I learned that my teammates and I on the junior high track team were not allowed to
use the school's only whirlpool, conveniently located in the boys locker room, or that the boys were getting brand new sweats and we were getting their old ones.
That first year of interscholastic athletics, I decided, was enough.
But I've never understood why, at KU, for instance, it is so difficult to find room for women to eat at the training table, or why women athletes should be blamed for not to draw a crowd and earn revenue when they are put to play at the worst possible time—during the dinner hour, as a sort of pre-game appetizer for the men's crowds.
With President Reagan's announcement that Title IX may fall victim to his budgetary ack, KU has lost its only apparent incentive for change, and I for one am glad my career in competitive athletics never went beyond the ninth grade.