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Page 2 - GAS LIGHT - Tuesday, March 23, 1976
Eastridge Book Store
Destroys Best Sellers
If America is to grow up thinking ...
Reading is fundamental.
Upon the opening of the new Eastridge Mall in Gastonia, I
decided to check-it-out. My first impression was that of an ex
tremely expensive and very modernly designed structure. J.C.
Penney’s was having a sale on albums and I wanted to look them
over to see if there was anything worth purchasing. Adjacent to the
record department is the book department. I noticed a sign which
read: “Best Sellers for the Month of February.” A young girl was
straightening the rack while I was glancing over the books. About
this time, another young lady older than the first came up and told
the girl, “Start tearing the backs off of these, we’re going to destroy
them.” I stood there amazed. I just couldn’t believe what I had
heard, and considering that Penney’s had just opened, I wondered
if I had heard the latter young lady correctly. So, I asked her what
she was doing, and she replied, “I’m just doing what I was told,”
then she began to do just that; she tore backs off at least seven
different kinds of books and about fifteen of each of these.
I thought about this for a long time and for some reason, it didn’t
seem right to me. The next day, I went back to talk to someone
asking to speak to the manager, but the switchboard operator
referred me to a man in charge of personnel who referred me to
another man, who referred me to a third man. I felt like I was
getting the run-around. Finally, I met Mr. Lumus Vick who ex
plained to me that Penney’s had a contract with Computer Book
Company, a distributing source out of Chicago to destroy paper
back books. Mr. Vick states, “Shipping charges are humongous
unless you send back tons at a time, and if we can’t put them on a
shelf, we don’t need them.” Now this might be a good business
practice for those who are concerned with making lots of money,
but to me, I feel those books could have been put to use and
remained a good business practice also. I told Mr. Vick that there
were plenty of institutions; such as mental and correctional in
stitutions which have libraries that could have used those books
and not have hurt Penney’s business practices. Mr. Vick agreec
with me and explained that Penney’s could make an arrangemen
with a legitimate club or organization so long as the books didn’;
get into the wrong hands.
I would like to recommend this worthwhile community service
project to any club at Gaston or in the vicinity who is interested in
picking up and distributing these books where they are needed, to
do so immediately.
To keep the “Best Sellers for the Month of March” from being
destroyed, I would advise that any club who would like to undertake
this project to go by and talk with Mr. Vick. Surely, you can think
of some place these books could be used for educational purposes.
If America is to grow up thinking ...
Reading is fundamental.
'RUN FOR YOUR LIVES . . . IT'S THE PRIMARY MONSTER!'
Cruising through the country
Viewing nature’s art. On
sunny, warm Sunday’s af
ternoon, passing by the cattle
grazing on the newly sprouted
grass. The budding trees with
leaves of green. Blossoms of
red, white, pinkish-purple
allowing the tree to appear as a
giant snowball. Bright red
berries making the leaveless
trees look as if they are rusted.
The orangeish-brown Earth
cultivated, ready for planting,
sloping down, then up, and
across level ground. The shrubs
covered with pearly fashioned
and shaped berries posing with
polk-a-dot green and cream
relatives, alKgned in the yard
producing its blades of green
mingled with dead sprigs of the
fall. Approaching a pine with
its year-round hue of greenish
leaves intertwined with its
brown needles, and cones.
Nature’s beauty, never ending,
continuously amazing, the
scenes before the eyes. A
painted picture it almost seems.
Spying upon a muddy, dry-
looking immature pond.
Pondering the possibility of
biting fish. Nearing a tin-roofed
red-worn barn, the aroma of
such that the one of cow
manure’s odor, the spring af
ternoon expected, because it is
a component of the artist’s
peacefulness, creating a chain
reaction of thoughts spurting
through the mind. A field of
weeds winding across the creek
' to a land of woods with a hint of
life existing there. Driving
along the narrow highway,
listening to a song, hearing a
new factor revealing its
totalness of meaning. Picturing
the views over and over again,
breathing deeply catching a
“whif ” of the fresh air. Another
and proceeding down it.
There’s a different version of
nature with housing for the
people with smaller patches of
till^land. Flowers blooming in
yellow and red standing against
the mowed lawn. Gatherings of
The principle on which this
country was founded remains
an ever-existing facet in the
lives of Americans. It never
ends. It’s continuous. As long
as there are people, there will
be search to gain it. Figured out
what it is? If not. Keep guessing
The first peoples to colonize
escaped their mother country
for this very reason, except it
was of religious origin. Yet,
I ther settlements were begun
lor other forms of it.
?"REEDOM ... of what? ol
whom? by what? by whom?
when? where? to what? or to
do what, when to do what, and
where to do what by whom ol
whom of what? Tough question,
ain’t it? Can it be answered?
Figure that one out for yourself!
Actually, what is freedom?
Defined, freedom means being
loose; not fastened or shut up;
not a slave; not under another’s
control; not prevented from
acting or thinking as one]
pleases; liberty, power of
choosing what one will do.
That’s enough to sort of get an
The United States is a free
country or that is what we’ve
always been told; however,
there are more freedoms being
sought after each day. Take for
instance ... freedom of religion
... freedom of speech and press
... freedom from slavery ...
freedom for women to be able to
vote ... freedom for younger
individuals to vote ... freedom
from discrimination ... and now,
the ERA ... what types of
freedom will we be looking tor
as a country in ten to fifteen
years? Not even an attempt at
In an encyclopedia, freedom
or liberty is an individual ex
perience. This is true. Actually
freedom is what you believe
. freedom is. Although, th^re are
restrictions on what you
believe. (That ain’t freedom).
The only thing left to do is don’t
do what you believe to be right
just because you believe it.
That should take care of the
situation. But, the mind stands
in utter amazement when
thinking about all the types of
freedom. The freedoms gained
by this country ... the ones being
fought for now ... the freedoms
of the future ...
An idealistic view of freedom
would be: to be able to act as an
individual as the individual so
desires to act upon an idea or
subject with doing no harm to
other individuals’ rights to act
as separate beings. Freedom
would be no worry, if we did not
have to think of doing
something illegal. Even
freedom has restrictions.
That’s the way it is and always
Freedom after 200 years ...
it’s the same now as then. The
United States continuously
searches for it, gains it, loses it,
sidetracks it. After another 200
years, this country will be
finding new principles of
freedom to gain.
It seems like we should have
found it after 200 years ... but
freedom can never be fully
gained as we search for more
individual beliefs, ideas, and
“I’ll call it the Pill—itni
families to play a softball game,
or two “kids” flying a kite.
Passing by two young fellows
riding their bikes with fishing
rods and tackle boxes intact.
Yet, not a car has been a hassel;
only passing by two or three
while in this land of silent
respected nature. Swerving
easily, hogging the road with no
fear, glancing at a meadow with
its patches of small budding
flowers lying upon the green
grassy land. Hidden in a valley,
a creek is spotted with its banks
of grayish-white clay packed
neatly with spurts of grass
shooting upward infrequently
mending them into a patchwork
quilt. Bicyclists exercising in
the Sunday warmth riding with
ease, satisfaction, enjoyment.
Edging slowly toward the city
limits, not wanting to return to
the “hussle and bussle” of life.
Stop. Go. Slow down ... Turn.
Red light, green light. Slow
down. Slow-ass car. Stupid
driver. Stop. Turn. Alright go,
damn it. Understand?
Depicting the haze over
shadowing the town in various
places. Exhausted from
viewing the land being bull
dozed for more construction of
houses. Town gets farther into
the country. Growing.
Creeping slowly yet steadily till
there’s no country. All
pavement. All houses, lawns.
An apartment complex or a
trailer park. City. Yuk!
Businesses, stores, banks,
savings and loans, stoplights -
traffic. Rushing around. The
air smeUs different already.
Polluted. No peacefulness.
Noise. Depressing. Country life
may be away from con
veniences, but the city life with
its hassel is too much. When
driving through the country, an
experience of life in many ways
can be seen through the
speechless scene telling its
story in silence; there’s no need
to speak, the view of such
natural wonder has its own
wording with each individual
who views it.
Yeah, just another Sunday
country afternoon viewing
creation’s work of art while
strolling along the careless