Opinion
Published daily since 1912
Kansan
Jodie Chester, *Editor* Marc Harrell, *Business manager*
Gerry Doyle, *Managing editor* Jamie Holman, *Retail sales manager*
Ryan Koerner, *Managing editor* Dan Simon, *Sales and marketing adviser*
Tom Eblen, *General manager*, news adviser Justin Knupp, *Technology coordinator*
Tuesday, August 25,1998
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Editorials
Student support of locally owned businesses fosters town's charm
The students of the University of Kansas comprise a large portion of Lawrence's population. Thus, they have a significant effect on the city's commerce. A business can prosper solely from students' patronage, and it can go bankrupt from their apathy.
Students should realize that every dollar they spend at a business influences the commercial makeup of Lawrence and the aesthetic values of the city. Students who want to purchase novels have the option of buying books from Raven Bookstore or Borders. By choosing the Raven, students may spend a few more dollars than they would at the corporate alternative. However, they also are contributing to a locally owned and operated business that is committed to keeping the charm of the downtown area.
Every dollar counts as a vote for keeping downtown shops prospering.
As the populace grows, more and more corporations are viewing Lawrence as an ideal market. This already is evident along the south end of Iowa Street, where the bland facades of Kohl's and J C Penney join discount stores such as Walmart and SuperTarget on the once noncommercially developed area.
Storefronts downtown that once held local businesses now bear the insignias of The Gap, Abercrombie and Fitch and Border's Books and Music. These retailers sometimes offer lower prices than their local competitors. However, they also take away from Lawrence's individuality, making it seem like just another suburban town.
Students may find good bargains at these national chains. Yet they should be aware that their dollars are their votes on how they want their town to look.Would they prefer the charm of the locally run businesses or the banality of national chains.
Kathryn Jensen for the editorial board
Groups deserve Pat on the Back
Every Tuesday, the editorial board will recognize groups or individuals who go above and beyond the call of duty or just did something really great with a Pat on the Back.
This week the editorial board is recognizing Hawk Link, a service sponsored by the Office of Minority Affairs. More than 100 students, faculty and Lawrence residents welcomed minority students, helped them move in and acquainted them with the University community. This was the first year for Hawk Link and the Office of Minority Affairs intends on continuing Hawk Link each year.
Hawk Link volunteers helped students move into residence halls from 8 a.m. until 6 p.m., Aug. 15. On Aug. 16, faculty and students welcomed new
Many organizations helped introduce new students to the University.
students at a barbecue at the Multicultural Resource Center. After the barbecue, entertainment was provided at the Anschutz Sports Pavilion. About 150 people attended the show.
The Office of New Student Orientation deserves a hearty Pat on the Back for its work in providing Hawk Week. Hawk Week organizers spent a summer publicizing and coordinating Hawk Week events such as Play Fair, Beach N Boulevard and Traditions Night for hundreds of new students to get acquainted with the University.
Another Pat on the Back goes to the Organization of Adult Knowledge Seekers. This was the first year that an organization formally welcomed nontraditional students to the University
The final Pats on the Back goes to the Center for Community Outreach and, again, New Student Orientation for cosponsoring the Hawk Week Service Project.
A CCO representative said there were between 130 and 140 volunteers Saturday at the Kansas Union. They were dispersed to charitable organizations throughout Lawrence such as the Humane Society, Social Services League and Pélathe Community Resource Center.
To make nominations for Pat on the Back, contact Ann Premier (apremer@kansan.com.).
Kansan staff
Tim Harrington and Ann Premer for the editorial board
Ann Premer . *Editorial*
Tim Harrington . *Associate Editorial*
Aaron Marvin . *News*
Gwen Olson . *Neus*
Aaron Knopf . *Online*
Matt Friedrichs . *Sports*
Kevin Wilson . *Associate sports*
Marc Sheforgen . *Campus*
Laura Roddy . *Campus*
Lindsey Henry . *Features*
Bryan Volk . *Associate features*
Roger Nomer . *Photo*
Corie Waters . *Photo*
Angie Kuhn . *Design, graphics*
Mellissa Ngo . *Wire*
Sara Anderson . *Special sections*
Laura Veazy . *Neues Clerk*
News editors
Stacia Williams . . . Assistant retail
Brandi Byram . . . Campus
Micah Kaffitz . . . Regional
Ryan Farmer . . . National
Matt York . . . Marketing
Stephanie Krause . Production
Matt Thomas . . Production
Traci Meisenheimer . Creative
Tenley Lane . Classified
Sara Cropper . Zone
Nicolle Farrell . Zone
Jon Schlitt . Zone
Shannon Curran . Zone
Matt Lopez . Zone
Brain Allers . PR/Intern manager
Advertising managers
Broaden your mind: Today's quote
"All of the things that I really like to do are either immoral, illegal or fattening."
How to submit letters and guest columns
Letters: Should be double-spaced typed and fewer than 200 words. Letters must include the author's signature, name, address and telephone number plus class and hometown if a University student. Faculty or staff must identify their positions.
Guest columns: Should be double-
spaced typed with fewer than 700 words. The writer must be willing to be photographed for the column to run.
All letters and guest columns should be submitted to the Kansan newsroom, 111 Stuffer-Flint Hall. The Kansan reserves the right to edit, cut to length or reject all submissions. For any questions, call Ann Premer (premer@kansan.com) or Tim Harrington (tharrington@kansan.com) at 864-4810. If you have general questions or comments, email the page staff (opinion@kansan.com) or call 864-4810.
Once again, the summer draws to a close and forces us to participate in the endless cycle of life. It seems to me that humanity is out to capture and more
Another August brings same old routine, pains
Perspective
it's as if each redundant. It's as if each August is just like the last, just a repetition, a cycle... ahem.
H.G.
Miller
opinion@kansan.com
Yes, it's been another one of those Augusts we all love so much.
Alexander Woollcott
As usual, the month begins with five friends whom I had forgotten I had calling up and touting my ability to "lift stuff." Apparently, if you don't personally change residences, you become
obligated to share the moving experience with others.
So, I spent the first few days in August injuring various muscles in my body that have been dormant since the last time I moved couches, televisions and halogen lamps. My last bits of will power and common sense broken, somebody always makes the statement: "It's only like a 10-minute drive, and most of the futon is in the back of the hatchback. You just hold it, okay?"
Okay.
Rather than sit back and enjoy the exhaustion, I end up surveying my own living habitat and realize that the good summer cleaning I was going to give it never quite happened. You know, things come up – work, sleep, the revelation that my mother won't be coming by to do a dust check until at least October.
However, rather than rely on fond recollections of what color my carpet is, I decide to participate in the August ritual of cleaning my apartment.
Now, some would relate the cleaning of their abodes to a spiritual experience - a renewal of interest in your personal space, a cleansing of sorts, a time to organize the most basic aspects of your life before school starts. I've found that cleaning my apartment compares more favorably to an archeological dig.
Among the debris are several dead roaches, about a thousand nickels and pennies and a few overdue bills that probably would explain the lack of hot water recently.
Like the other months, August has its share of bills, but it seems to me that it manages to pop in some extra expenditures. A mere week and a half into the month brings about the deadline for payment on this semester's learning opportunity, and the need to check my financial status becomes apparent.
Parking permits, new shoes and everybody needs a blender. Yes, August means adding to the phone bill by calling mom and dad and explaining the importance of a costly education.
That summer trip that seemed so cheap at the time suddenly manifests itself on my credit card statement, where it soon will be joined by the reading selections of my professors. Hey, debt loves company, and besides, who knew that there would be so much required reading about Japan?
Hey, there is that geography book I meant
Still, the month moves on.
to sell back two years ago. Looks as if I forgot to water the plant again. And there's the number of that girl I was supposed to call back in March. Oops.
Sorry, the math works out.
As we reach week three, August continues to drudge up the same nasty changes in routine it always does.
Granted, having my first class at noon wouldn't normally qualify as stress, but now I've got to get up in the morning. And I truly believe that a good breakfast can't be served any time before two in the afternoon.
With classes comes the need to shave regularly, and somebody will notice if I wear the same shirt for a week straight. The same insecurities about college return. Can I handle my class load? Will I have time to hit all the bars this semester? Is she looking at me or my fancy Tweety-bird pen?
Of course, subtle little differences around the campus become apparent when the actual attending of classes takes place. The freshmen seem smaller, a few new flowers dot the landscape and my favorite dirt path has been replaced with one of those "convenient" paved sidewalks.
Yes, August came back again, and now it's almost over. It brought back a boring routine and more endless debt while taking away my peaceful summer days of idle rest and simplistic reflection.
In return?
At least there's more traffic.
Miller is a senior from Hutchinson majoring in English.
Storytelling opens door to soul and experiences
that although the two of us never developed one of those twin languages that only each other could understand, we spoke in a code that prompted explanation on numerous occasions. Examples of this phenomenon include:
"Son of a...
W when I went home for the summer, I spent a lot of time with my sister, Katie. During all of our discussions I learned to steer away vocalisation
"You don't have to go to Wichita, but you can't stay here."
Nick
Bartkoski
opinion@kansan.com
It seems like random gibberish to just about
everyone that's not us, but to us, each quote represents much more than that. Each sentence represents a story. Some are about friends, ourselves or some event interesting enough to be immortalized in a single sentence. For example, one time we all were making homemade pizza. We were trying to add garlic powder to the sauce, but the container I found was nearly empty. My brother Steven came in asking what was wrong, so I explained the garlic powder situation. He rummaged through the cabinets for about a minute and pulled out the biggest bottle of garlic powder I had ever seen. I just stood there with an incredulous look on my face and mumbled "Son of a..."
The second sentence actually created this summer. My family usually makes a yearly pilgrimage to Wichita to see my brother Matthew participate in Special Olympics. While everyone else is rollicking in Wichita, Katie and I get a three-day vacation from the rest of the family. However, this year everyone but my brother and my dad stayed home because my youngest sister, Amelia, had to get her softball picture taken. The realization that Katie's and my days of peace, quiet and rest were gone, prompted us to scream out at different times: "You don't have to go to Wichita, but you sure can't stay here."
This whole thing got me thinking, and I came to a conclusion — each and every one
Ultimately, all of us are storytellers. When we tell our friends about the long lines in the supermarket this afternoon, we're offering them a picture out of our lives. It doesn't matter if the story is only mildly interesting or doesn't have enough explosions or gratuitous sex—the act of telling puts you in the same profession as William Shakespeare, Mark Twain, or even the guy who writes the made-up letters to Penthouse.
Some people may not see how I can get away with writing 800-word epics about my latest diet or my cats, but those people don't see that those are just chapters and subchapters in my ongoing story. I don't have some giant cache of rediscovered ancient manuscripts to draw from, nor do I possess enough marginal writing talent to compose the Great American novel. However, I can tell my story, the story of a lonely, overweight college student with excessive free time, in a manner that no one else can, even if it does include the words Sparky, the Wondercat.
The truly wonderful thing about the stories that constitute our lives is that they always are new to someone. The people in my hall emit a collective groan whenever I start telling the story of "The Butchery at Battenfeld" simply because they've heard the story about five hundred billion times, but while I was in housing training, I actually found someone interested in hearing it...until he actually heard the story.
So the next time you're ready to stop me on campus to ask, "Nick, buddy, what are you thinkin?" or even ask the person sitting in front of you to speak more quietly, remember that what you are receiving is as precious as one of the great plays of Shakespeare, or at least the latest Jackie Collins novel.
of our lives is a collection of stories. There are the stories of the good times, to help us weather the tougher ones. There are the stories of the bad times, to help us reflect, and then there are the stories of the wonder kittens.
Barkoski is a Baseer senior majoring in journalism and English.
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