OPINION
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
PUBLISHED DAILY SINCE 1912
LATNA SULLIVAN, Editor HEATHER VALLER, Business manager TARA TRENARY, Managing editor MARIA CRIST, Retail sales manager PAUL EAKINS, Editorial editor JUSTIN KNUPP, Technology coordinator TOM EBLEM, General manager, news adviser DAN SIMON, Sales and marketing adviser
Wednesday, June 4, 1997
Jeff MacNally / CHICAGO TRIBUNE
Editorials
City commission should rein in Lawrence's rapid rate of growth
The Lawrence City Commission needs to pay more attention to its constituents.
This is old news. Most of us have seen with our own eyes that the city is growing rapidly. We have watched the boundaries of the city expand into the countryside.
According to an article in Sunday's Lawrence Journal-World, the population of Lawrence is increasing at an annual growth rate of 2.33 percent, and at current rates, the population is projected to reach 82,616 people by the year 2000. In 1990 the population was 65,698.
However, we cannot see the views of those around us. Judging by the amount of development that city officials have prompted and supported, one would guess that their constituents want this growth as well.
But the Journal-World article informed us that, as it said in the headline, the "city is divided over pace of growth." A survey was done by a University of Kansas public administration class, in which 348 Lawrence residents were asked their opinions about numerous city issues, including growth.
Forty-six percent of local residents oppose speed of community development.
The result? Fifty percent said that the city's growth was about right, while 46 percent said it was too fast.Four percent said the city's growth was too slow. The survey had a margin of error of 5 percent.
So, with near fifty percent opposition to the current rate of growth, one might ask a few questions about the actions of the city commission. Why does the commission seem to be attempting to
bring in as many national chains as possible, such as The Gap, Borders bookstore and Hv-Vee?
The city commission voted to spend $100,000 of the taxpayers' money on a parking lot next to the future site of Borders. Of course, it is to be a "city lot" for use by anyone, but when placed next door to Borders, it is not hard to guess which store's customers and employees will use the lot most.
Why does the city keep pushing the boundaries of the city farther out, promoting development at a rate faster than is necessary, faster than the city infrastructure can handle, and faster than nearly half of the citizens of Lawrence want?
The city commission needs to reevaluate its actions, think about what its constituents want, and attempt to make the necessary changes. The city is growing too quickly, and many residents of Lawrence know it.
PAUL EAKINS FOR THE EDITORIAL BOARD
Buyer beware: ads are insults
Joe Camel is only a symptom of the problem.
In 1991, a survey showed that 91 percent of first graders could recognize Joe Camel, as many as recognized Mickey Mouse.
For years, the makers of Camel cigarette ignored theories that its cartoonish mascot appealed to the young while watching its share of the teen smoker's market lump ten percent in five years.
Now Joe Camel is on the hit list. He's on the verge of being out of work or, even more telling, involved in "I stopped... don't start" anti-smoking public service announcements. His significance as a symbol is seen as sick, wrong and unique in the advertising world.
In targeting this campaign we ignore the fact that, day in and day out, advertising targets the young without so much as a second thought. We also ignore the fact that few suppliers of goods are willing to use advertising that doesn't work at some level.
Tobacco groups not alone in targeting youngsters with cartoon campaigns
In a Center for Alcohol Awareness survey released two years ago, more fourth and fifth graders recognized the Budweiser frogs than recognized the Power Rangers or Tony the Tiger. The Anheuser-Busch company, when faced with this information, didn't blink an eye.
ception of its consumers. Perhaps they do see us as savages who can be entranced by small shiny objects or the novelty of animals that talk. Perhaps, in their eyes, we are nothing more than cargo cultivists waiting for mass-produced manna to float down from the slides.
Or, perhaps the "get 'em young" school of marketing has been a powerful weapon since advertising began. Perhaps the advertising industry sees children as a tool, a second spokesperson when we're in the supermarket and a solid second market once they're old enough to pretend to be older.
Perhaps these ad campaigns simply are a reflection of corporate America's per-
Perhaps, by making a statement with our dollars, we can get advertisers to see that pandering to us is an insult, rather than a useful tool.
SEAN DEMORY FOR THE EDITORIAL BOARD
KANSAN STAFF
NEWS EDITORS
JEN SMITH ... Copy
ANDREA ALLBRIGHT ... Campus
ASHLEIGH ROBERTS ... Photo
BRYAN VOLK ... Design
CORY CORONA ... Assistant design
ADVERTISING MANAGERS
KATHRYN JENSEN ...Classified
RACHEL RUBIN ...Creative
STEPHANIE DECKER ...Regional
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.
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Quotable
All letter and guest columns should be submitted to the Kansas newsroom, 111 Stauffer-Flint Hall. The Kansan reserves the right to edit, cut to length or reject all submissions. For any questions, call Paul Eakins at 864-4810 (opinion@kansas.com).
"We have uncovered a universe brimming over with wonders. We are on our way, if we are not so foolish as to destroy ourselves first, to the planets and to the stars. Which
path we take, which destiny we choose is up to us... All future generations, if there are any, will look back to this timeas a fundamental crossroads in human history. The choice. I believe, is literally between
life and death."
-Carl Sagan Astronomer
-Carl Sagan, Astronomer University of South Carolina, commencement speech, 1984
Summer in the city can be relaxing, fun
Columns
It's that depressing time of year when the town's collective motivation sinks like a soggy Wheatie to the bottom of the bowl. These are the dead months when you feel like you've
Welcome to summer in Lawrence. Please join me in counting the days until August.
really accomplished something with your day when you manage to take to shower. When you secretly envy your roommate for having a reason to rise before noon. When you plan your hours around TBS's showing of Weekend at Bernie's.
One can only assume that students who remain in Lawrence during these months are here to serve some sort of punishment
(i.e. jail time, summer classes) or just were too lazy to make other arrangements in a better summer town (i.e. it's really hard to find a good apartment in Hell this time of year).
By mid-June, that old friend you never called during the school year now is on your phone's speed dial because no one else is around. You want to go out and do something, but you can't think of anything better to do than go see a movie. And like the rest of the brainwashed country, you find yourself wandering like a zombie into a theater to stare at yet another movie about angry dinosaurs, salvating at the thought of a couple hours of entertainment that won't bankrupt your brain.
By July, you'll swear this wasn't the same town that was energized and bustling with loud folks during graduation weekend in May. You begin to miss the obnoxious alumni who overrun the town every Saturday for football games. You fondly recall the unbearable long wait to get into Free State. The crowds and vitality are replaced by silence and sloth. You catch yourself yelling at your neighbor for playing his "unbearably loud" James Taylor CD after 9 p.m.
You feel a distinct sadness when you finish reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, or whatever unreadable book you've finally found the time for, because what the hell are you going to do now? Various drastic ways to break out of the rut occur to you as you're lying in bed. Shave your head? Rearrange your furniture? Roadtrip to Graceland? Instead you watch reruns that weren't
But as the months drift by, you start to realize something. There are worse places you could be. Wichita, for example, where the best midsummer entertainment often centers around trying to win stuffed animals by feeding quarters into that machine at Perkins with the giant claw. You know, the one that drops down into the pile of toy giraffes, elephants and bunnies, and invariably comes up with nothing but air and frustration. Lawrence begins to seem like a pretty decent place by comparison.
You start inventing time-killers to push you from one day to the next. You look at old photos. You know it's gotten bad when you make mix tapes on consecutive days. Next thing you know, you hit rock bottom and find yourself enthusiastically singing *Take Me Out to the Ballgame* with Harry Caray during the seventh inning stretch of the Cubs-Reds game on WGN.
You learn that those who inhabit our town in the summer are infinitely cooler than the Jayhawk rowdies who rough up the town for nine months. The trippy guy in the Phish shirt you see daily throwing a frisbee with his mangy Black Lab Murph stops irritating you and begins adding to the color of the town. You're not going to have that 14-shots-of-tequila-at-Louise's-and-falling-down-on-Mass-Street brand of fun. Once you accept this fact, you'll find a new appreciation for the solitude of sitting on your porch mellowly drinking a beer, watching the sun disappear behind the trees.
When August rolls around, you find yourself grumbling about how the town is getting too crowded again. How you didn't get your usual booth in the beer garden at the Replay because it's Hawk Week. How all these damn U-Hauls are blocking traffic on Tennessee and some stupid freshman's parents are driving the wrong way down Kentucky. How the town just isn't the same.
even good the first time around and consider the walk to Burrito King your daily exercise.
Trust me, by the beginning of September,
you'll be nostalgic for those quiet moments
when you got to share a beautiful town with
the lucky few smart enough to be in on the
secret allure of Lawrence in the summer. Soon you'll join those the ranks if those who spend
the spring months counting the days until May,
when Lawrence truly becomes theirs again.
Enjoy it while you can.
Jeff Ruby is a Wichita graduate student in Journalism.
Children's game raises moral question in Utah
Parents heard about this rampant, free-love hedonism and decided to take a stand. Petitions were circulated and a joint meeting of the school board and the city council swelled with more than 200 people, a significantly larger number than the parents of Mott's students.
I must admit my secret shame: I was a farmer's wife.
I was in a largely male preschool class, and I dimly recall playing the Farmer in the Dell. I've been told that I was a farmer, a wife and cheese at some point in my life. I didn't take this as seriously as some people have, however.
According to an Associ-
For those of you who don't remember, The Farmer in the Dell is a game in which kids portraying a farmer and his wife, pair off and dance around a circle while
The response was extreme, to say the least.
Renee Mott, a kindergarten teacher in Brigham City who had more girls in her class than boys, allowed girls to be chosen as farmers when playing Farmer in the Dell. Some of these girls chose other girls to be their wives. In a class with more girls than boys, this was inevitable.
dance around a circle while other children sing. The odd person out is declared the "cheese" and gets to stand alone.
ated Press story, the citizens of Brigham City, Utah, have struck a blow in a fight that wasn't. Their field of battle: The Farmer in the Dell.
"I know these things may happen in other
applications."
How much, one is forced to wonder, can a child's psyche be healed if he or she is told that the game that a teacher has taught is wrong? How much healing can occur when a girl is told that she must either be connected to a man or alone?
What lessons do these parents want their children to learn?
When asked why she allowed this shameless, free-love hedonism to happen, Mott said "I just wanted all the children to have a turn."
Parents started an action committee and plan to sue the school board and the kindergarten for psychic damage to their children. They've got a local law stating that boys must be chosen first for the farmer role. They have conceded, however, to reserve the role of cheese for a girl.
LeClare Moffatt, a member of the city council, responded "I don't care how 'innocent' this thing started. If not all the students get a turn, that's just too bad. There are more important issues at stake here."
"That should be enough to make anyone happy," concluded School Board President Jack Peterson.
A willingness to protect their children has turned a non-issue into a central issue. I'd like to believe that this is an isolated thing, but after the furor surrounding "Ellen," I'm not so sure.
The parents also have drafted a law for the state legislature that would ban all playacting of same-sex marriages in public schools.
Sean Demory is an Olathe senior In Journalism
C
Jeff MacNallv / CHICAGO TRIBUNE