Page 4 -- Capital Times, Dec. 9, 1987
Editorial Page
Jan Travers/Editor
Good-bye!
Life
For me, saying goodbye is the hardest part of everyday life. I don't
mean just good-bye, see your tomorrow, but good-bye, have a nice life.
Beginning in January, I will be earning the last of my undergraduate
credits in an internship off-campus. So this issues marks my last as editor.
But before I go, I want to recognize what Penn State Harrisburg has meant for
me. Like most other students here, I spent the long seven-day weeks hitting
the books. Sleepless nights with a pot of coffee were not unusual. When the
smoke clears though, I know I won't remember the pain. But I will remember
the people who have touched my life.
My major role model here has been Ruth Leventhal. She told me
early on in my academic life that many women, unlike men, won't take on a
job unless they know how to do it beforehand. Her advice was to continually
set goals and reach for them. Through her words of wisdom and
encouragement I have taken a chance on several projects which can only help
me in my career. It is Ruth Leventhal that I think about whenever I start
something new which is just a little above my grasp.
I had three "real life" professionals ( Don Sarvey, Kate Barron.
and Roger Doran) who came to campus to teach journalism courses. They
were the toughest professors I had since coming back to school and my
thoughts and words about them were sometimes less than complimentary.
But learn I did. So I thank them for knocking me off my pedestal when I
needed it most.
I thank Bill Mahar for his direction during my academic life'and
Clem Gilpin for the respect and kindness he gives all students, Mehdi
Khosrowpour for his faith in my judgment, Janet Widoff for being my
friend and confidante and Lois Cochran and Cindi Morris from student
activities for always having the answers to my questions.
But most of all thanks to the college community, particularly the
staff, for your support in making my job a lot easier. I can only hope you
give the new editor, Michele Hart, the same.
So, good-bye, have a nice life.
Editor of New. Paper Needs Date
By Mark Keisling
I love this paper. I really do. I
love it to pieces. I mean, come on.
They let me write anything I want--even
if I ramble. And I ramble.
That notwithstanding, however,
this may be the last time I write in the
Capital Times. Not because it's the last
issue of the semester--that wouldn't stop
me from babbling. Rather I think I
want to start and run my own campus
newspaper. I'd call it The Advark--
Mark's Alternative Fish Wrap with the
Big Nose.
See PSU/Harrisburg is not a
one newspaper town any more. Nosiree.
Oh contraire. We've had the Capital
Times, of course. Now, though, we
have several other newspapers too--so I
should get my own. There are some
new papers in fact which are so new and
so secret that we really can't mention
them here. Then there's the relatively
new and relatively secret The Advocate--
The Alternative Fish Rap. It's about
three issues old. You've probably seen
it. I love it to pieces. You know. It's
the one with questions to Dr. Roof. It's
satirical and really seems to annoy the
band wallies (In my high school, nerds
were called band wallies) who
traditionally react with philistinic yahoo
ness to newness and creativity.
Anyway, I want my own
newspaper too. Just think of the fun.
The Advocate folk(s) seem to have fun
Have a Nice
both in their writing and anonymity.
They/he/she must have a grand blast
assembling theit rag (meant reverently).
It seems so. I think they must enjoy
beer. I think they maybe enjoy too
much beer, or maybe they enjoy beer too
much or maybe too much beer too
much. Anyway, cheers--I'm amused.
Keep it up. Mark's Fish Wrap With the
Big Nose welcomes the competition.
So goodbye Capita! Times
readers. I'm off to start my own campus
newspaper.
One last thing, while I still get
free column space (and I know they'll
print anything). I just have to say:
SPM (single professional
male), 28 is seeking SF for
friendship, fun, etc. You should
be attractive, intelligent and
usually secure. You should not
be a whiner, skier or someone
who will make me eat casseroles
or Jello salad. I am one heck of
a catch (ask my mother--555-
6999). You know, I'm
intelligent, attractive, and I
don't talk like I w rite. Hey,
let's get together.
To respond to this personal
classified ad, write to BOX MK, Capital
Times Office, Room W-129 (slide under
door). Include brief description and
phone number. All responses are, of
course, confidential. Fraudulent letters
will be prosecuted.
Oh, yeh, and I want the Lion's
Den to start serving Ice Tea Cooler.
Still Smoking After All
These Years
By Michele E. Hart
Another Great American
Smokeout has come and gone and once
again I did not quit smoking. I really
tried to quit this year. I let two non
smokers adopt me for the day of the
Smokeout, I hid my cigarettes, I stuffed
my pockets with candy and gum, and I
told my mom I was going to give up
my precious nicotine for 24 hours just
for her.
It didn't work. My efforts were
almost futile. I quit smoking, but not
for 24 hours like I had hoped. No,
Miss-what-is-willpower, could only go
for six hours without a cigarette. And
by the end of those six hours I was
miserable. My hands were shaky, I felt
light-headed, I was cranky, and I could
not stop eating. I was eating so much
candy and gum I thought my teeth were
going to fall out. I even found myself
trying to inhale "smoke" from my
pencil. My downfall came when my
friend John lit up and I caught a whiff of
the smell of the burning paper and
tobacco and watched his cheeks suck in
as he filled his lungs with carbon
monoxide and 'tar. I WANTED A
CIGARETTE!
I wanted a cigarette. There was
nothing I could do. Trying to fight the
urge to smoke had worn me down and I
was ready to admit defeat. But. ' , couldn't
smoke at school, my adoptive non
smokers would see me and make me feel
guilty about being a slave to the tobacco
industry. I made up an excuse to skip a
meeting, ran to my car and drove home.
Once in the solitude of my own living
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room I grabbed my trusty cigarette case,
my Bic lighter, and sat down to enjoy a
smoke.
That cigarette was going to be
sOOO g000d! I lit it, drew my first puff,
and started to cough so hard I had to get
a drink. Maybe there was something to
this Smokeout after all. I started to feel
guilty. I had gone back on my pledge to
quit smoking for the day. How was I
going to tell Angie and Dina ( who said
she had a bet riding on my ability to go
without a smoke) and my mom that I
was a failure, that I had let them down.
My cigarette didn't taste so good
anymore and the smell was starting to
make me sneeze. The guilt was really
starting to get to me .
I'm probably not the only
guilty smoker in the world. The
American Cancer Society said that a
third of all the smokers in the United
States gave up cigarettes for 24 hours,
and that half of those people were stil
not smoking two weeks later. I know
why they quit: guilt. They did not want
to admit to their moms that they
couldn't go for a measly 24 hours
without lighting up. I think the
American Cancer Society knows this and
subtly preys on our fear of disappointing
our mothers each year. It worked on me
this' yeat:Tve resblved to 'try batder inf
the future to quit smoking and I have cut
down the number of cigarettes I smoke
in a day.
Maybe next year will be my
year to quit. I'll try Ma, honest I will.
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