6
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REVVED ABOUT RECYCLING
To the Editor,
As first-year students, we were
dismayed to realize Guilford lacks
a comprehensive recycling pro
gram. One reason we both chose
this school was because of its high
social conscience. Coming from
communities where recycling was
a factor of everyday life, we do not
understand why this most impor
tant aspect is lacking in Guilford's
social action. What is being done?
How can students get involved?
We think there are enough students
willing to work for this if they only
know what needed to be done.
Adrienne Massanari
Laura Davis
EMBARRASSED ABOUT
OTHERS' CONDUCT
To the Editor,
I have just returned home from
attending "Parents' Weekend."
My reasons for going were three
fold: 1) To see my daughter, 2) to
meet her advisor and geology pro
fessors, and 3) to hear Jimmy
Johnson's highly acclaimed blues
guitar.
Results to 1 and 2 were gratify
ing. Needless to say, 3 was a di
saster. I was appalled at the un
precedented rudeness the Guilford
audience showed an artist of Mr.
Johnson's calibre. It was inexcus
able.
I am embarrassed for the school
and the musicians. It is not a com
fortable feeling. I am also angry,
hence this letter.
In the future, I hope that who
ever is responsible for booking art
ists to the Arts-Etc. concerts bet
ter matches the artist and the audi
ence. This insult should never
have happened.
To all who attended and walked
out.."Shame on you!"... Jimmy
Johnson and his talented accom
panists deserved far better. Those
who came to hear him were re
SENIORS
READ THIS!
Only 15% of the Senior class
has responded to the Senior
Event Survey. Does that really
mean that 224 Seniors don't
care a bit about Graduation? If
you didn't recieve a survey or
would like another please con
tact Laura DeDois at x 3192 or
PO. Box 17137.
warded by a fine performance by
justly recognized musicians under
trying circumstances.
My heartfelt thanks to Mr.
Johnson and his band for playing
on. I doubt I could or would have
shown such grace.
Marty Donaldson
RESPONSE TO RANDY SPECS
To the Editor,
I would like to take this oppor
tunity to inform you and your read
ing audience that I did not, I re
peat, did not, nor have I ever,
washed Randy Specs' mouth out
with soap. I thought about it a time
or two, but I never, repeat never,
did this to him. Mainly because I
could not find a bar of Octagon
soap big enough for his mouth. His
mother, Ma Podie, and I do agree
with your policy on fowl language.
It really is chicken to use such
words in print and then hide be
hind a pseudonym.
In summary, T. Randy Specs is
incorrect and you are right on tar
get in exercising your license to
edit.
Michael White
P.S. Randy never did eat collard
greens when he was growing up.
However, he did have plenty of op
portunities. This deficiency could
explain why he is prone to use so
many four-letter words.
FAMILY WEEKEND A SUCCESS
Dear Editor,
FAMILY WEEKEND '93 has
come and gone but the warm glow
from having over 850 family mem
bers on campus is still being felt!
Thanks very much to all the fac
ulty, staff and students who hosted
tables at the President's Brunch,
greeted parents at the Parent and
Faculty Mixer and helped with all
the details that surface during such
a large all-campus celebration.
Early comments from family
members have been very positive
and enthusiastic. Many of them are
already making plans to be here
next fall September 23-25 for
Family Weekend '94!
Sincere thanks to everyone.
Lillian Lyndrup
Director of Parent Relations
I RECYCLING FORUM I
" Tuesday Nov. 16 at 8:30 P.M. *
• in the cafeteria •
• Student support is needed! *
• Sponsered by Environmental Concerns •
• Committee and Foreve^reen
ser*pectite*
A slice of real life
from the Butcher
Butch Maier
Special to The Guilfordian
When I last left you this April, I
was signing off from my 234 th and
"final" Guilfordian article.
So much for finality.
Just like the transience of youth,
not too many things stay the same,
as one may hope, expect or be told.
So here I am again, taking a slice
out of my life and offering it with
open palm to you, my former school
chums and co-existees.
Upon shifting my cap tassel in
May, I was forced to leave the
friendly confines of Mr. Bill Rog
ers' Quakeresque community for a
new beginning in Mr. Fred Rogers'
neighborhood of Pittsburgh.
I suppose I wasn't forced exacdy.
I could have followed in the bare
footsteps of many other recent grads
who clung to their Guilfordite iden
tity, puttering around Greensboro
without a job, only to visit the fa
miliar campus to realize there was
no room in the inn, until no one re
membered who they were anymore.
But not me. It was time to go.
Four years and out was my under
standing of the expected college
stay. Unless you got red-shirted —
or red-faced from exam blues.
Neither crossed my path, so I
stuffed three cars full of my worldly
possessions and motored home to
West Virginia, never looking back,
save for the occasional rear view
mirror check.
Unlike many others, I did not
have to fly solo, technically at least
My "roomdog" of three years Allen
Hill, joined me in my pilgrimage to
"William Penn's Woodlands."
Even with my college roommate
right across the hall, we live such
separate lives that I can't help but
feel a twinge of loneliness at times.
Who am I kidding? I can't claim,
like Art and Paul, that "I am a rock;
I am an island." Not intentionally.
It just seems that the ocean crept up
to each of my shoes until I was sur
rounded at every turn.
WAR
Cont. fran page 5
Walter looked at the man on
the ground. His brow was
smooth; the lines of fear and
worry had been wiped clean by
death's hand.. He looked so
young. Here he lay-somebody's
husband, somebody's father,
somebody's son. Someone,
somewhere would weep bitter
tears over ihis man. He would
not be going home.
In the front seat, Walter's
As if our generation—the baby
bust—wasn't lost or misplaced
enough, I've hit the age of irrel
evancy. Just out of college, yet not
quite married. The twenty-some
thing crowd gets shuffled aside with
nary an identity to claim.
I have found a wonderful church
to attend, but involvement has been
a different story. Sure, there are your
basic school fellowships, all the way
up through high school and college
and there are young married couples
and older married couples groups.
But what about the single 20ish col
lege grad crowd?
Nothing. Only a singles get-to
gether every six weeks. "Yippee.
In college, your choice of social
preference is laid out before you as
neatly as a grade schooler's outfit
for the next day. Dorms—excuse
me—residence halls offer the im
mediacy of friendly confines.
And even if you don't get to know
your neighbors, at least you can be
a groupie. Fellowship groups, var
sity athletic teams, intramurals, pub
lications, WQFS, Senate.
Or you can enjoy a get-together.
Fellowship retreats, sport events,
quad dances, meals in the caf, brown
bag lunches, art exhibits.
I did it all, pretty much. But leave
your place of higher educations, and
greater fraternization and relations
become a chore.
As an almost full-time news
writer for the Sewickley Herald (al
most, 'cause they don't want to of
fer me benefits) and a sprats free
lancer for the North Hills Record, I
keep pretty busy.
Two papers, 40 hours a week, and
all I want to do is veg in front of my
brand new television (which clashes
miserably with the '6o's-style fur
niture that came with the house).
And what do I watch? General
Hospital, Roseanne, Moonlighting,
Oprah, The Second Half, Seinfeld,
Letterman, Lightmusic, Later with
Bob Costas, Lip Service and The
Real World.
The Real World Seen that show?
voice wavered slightly, and he
stopped abruptly and changed the
subject I rode quietly for a few
minutes, silenced by this awesome
new perspective. Soon my mind
returned to more immediate things,
and I had a great day helping these
two men pour concrete at Camp
Truett. But I saw new dimensions
in Walter Middleton. He had
taught me a side of wars I hadn't
read about in books or seen in
movies. Walter had stared the devil
in the eye and lived to tell about it
And this was a devil 1 suddenly
Sobember 5,1993
MTV puts seven strangers in a
bouse together and starts rolling the
cameras, filming everything they
do. So I watch, secondhand, other
people communicating, relating and
living from my orange couch, as I
hold onto my faithful glass of Pepsi
and bag of pretzels.
And what does my "real world"
entail?
Grocery trips that magnify the
difference between brand-name and
generic item pricing. Dish piles that,
if not excavated, can exude unbear
able and unthinkable odors. Books
of stamps sent on more envelopes
that you receive, save for bills and
"current resident" mailings. Phone
bills that hit the roof from reaching
out to keep in touch with those who
don't write back.
Then, after a four-month hiatus, I
returned last weekend for a 48-hour
visit to that place where I felt 1 be
longed. I was saddened by an over
whelming thickness of apathy in the
air.
Guilford, realize what you have
been granted.
Don't take higher education for
granted. Do excel in the class
room —listen, share and learn.
Don't take the community for
granted. Do get involved—give,
care and grow. Don't take people for
granted. Do love—encourage, cel
ebrate and comfort
Not many people are given a hia
tus between dependence and inde
pendence to explore who they are
and what they want to be. Be thank
ful.
You have a place to lay your head.
Most of you have food prepared and
dishes cleaned for you. And even
have the whole sha-bang paid for.
How can you be apathetic toward
all this? Ask yourself, do you really
appreciate what you have, right
now, this instant?
As the Hill Street Blues dis
patcher would quip, "Be careful out
there," I offer you a similar gentle,
empathetic reminder.
Be care-full down there.
never wanted to face myself.
A few weeks later, I got out
my old army men and looked at
them. I set several up in random
formation and snuffed a couple
of lives with the tap of a thumb.
But the old magic was gone. I
gathered them in a box and
stored them in the top corner of
my closet I think they graduated
to the attic a year or so later. I'm
not sure what happened to them
after that