Editorial Opinion
Shortchanged
The budget song for Penn State remains the
same: "You can't always get what you want
While the University requested an $l3O
million appropriation for the upcoming year,
Gov. Thornburgh requested only $ll7 million
under his "no frills, no nonsense" budget. So
what does a measely $l2 million mean?
It means another untimely tuition increase
along with cuts in existing programs.
That is, unless the legislature finds it in its
heart to susbstantially increase the governor's
suggested appropriation. Don't count on it,
though; the legislature rarely votes to dole out
much more than the recommended 'amount.
University officials will probably have to make
do with the 5 percent raise.
Five percent is about the same increase the
University has received in the past, but it's
worth even less because of inflation. Our recent
history in the teeth-pulling budgetary process
has left us with nothing but a mouthful of
cavities. Although Gov. Thornburgh pledged
greater support for higher education, the 5
percent increase follows the same trend started
by ex-Gov. Shapp.
Penn State and the other state-related
universities Temple, Pitt and Lincoln
University aren't getting a fair shake. The
A trail conceived
I find it hard to believe, in a so-called scholar
producing institution like Penn State, that at
least one knowledgeable mind could not be found
and hired to fill the quasi-mindless void within
the housing department. I refer, of course, to
Penn State's new policy for dorm contracting,
whereby students stand (sleep, collapse . . .) in
line foi• up to 36 wasted hours for the privilege of
obtaining a dorm contract.
As I watched a queue that seemed never to
end, these words came to mind: It is a trail
conceived by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing. (My apologies to Bill
Shakespeare).:--.
Since: the_old_system of_ handing in a card
seemed to work so well, it seems unfortunate
that no one thought to keep it. Ergo, I would like
to take this opportunity to award the "booby
prize of the year" to whoever is responsible for
this unbelievable situation, with noteworthy
mention for their concern and understanding of
Ti me passages:
Bond was wrong, you only live once
When we last left State College, the
gap of understanding between black and
white was an important topic of con
versation, brought to light by six in
famous ads in The Daily Collegian.
While vacationing in Florida during
term break, I came across another
societal split, which isn't discussed
much these days but may be wider than
the one between the races. Behold, The
Generation Gap.
The term was used much more
frequently about a decade ago, when
youths rebelled louder than ever against
their elders' values. The long hair and
loud music which symbolized that
rebellion were usually scoffed at and
misunderstood by the older generation,
But the generation gap I discovered
somewhere between Palm Beach and
Miami, the mecca of retirees, was much
different. It seemed that many senior
citizens are having a tough time coping
with the physicalness of the Seventies.
Disco dancing, jogging, racquetball
many of the activities that are popular
nowadays for teenagers, young adults
and many middle-agers as well, are
physically off-limitS to the elderly. Most
senior citizens would not step near a
disco dance floor, not because they
wouldn't like to, but because' the next
flashing lights they'd see would be
mounted on top of an ambulance.
Although I can't recall much from the
late Sixties, when my own self-searching
consisted of looking for the prize at the
bottom of the cereal box, I think the
elderly are more envious of youth today.
Ten years ago, most oldsters turned up
their noses at the king hair, turned down
the music and closed their eyes to the
peace signs. But last week I got the
feeling that the physical limitations of
old age were the only thing keeping
senior citizens from taking part in the
fitness-oriented Seventies. To them,
"Stayin' Alive" is something to worry
about.
And while the youth movement of the
Sixties didn't involve or trust anyone
over 30, the physical-fitness, disco wave
of this decade has swept up many from
middle-age America. Thus, causing
senior citizens to feel that being in touch
is just out of their reach.
Don't get the impression that all the
oldsters I met in South Florida were
couped up in rocking chairs. Several
people were fighting very hard to stay in
shape and keertactive.
the plights of the student. And to all those
students who stood and waited, have you con
sidered turning next year's ordeal into some kind
of charity marathon?
Laughing
Where Gentle Thursday takes place or
whether there are balloons or no balloons will
make little difference. Gentle Thursday cannot
duplicate or even be vaguely familiar to what it
was in the '6os and early '7os. The thought of
students turning in their designer jeans and
disco attitudes for one "day of sharing" leaves
me somewhere between laughter and tears. It
won't be the balloons and clowns that make
Gentle Thursday different, but the attitudes and
outlook of today's students. If Gentle Thursday
were restricted to those few who have retained
some of the attitudes characteristic of the '6os,
I met Murray, 70, and Fritz, 64, in a
health club. Murray was curling 50-lb,
weights with one arm and Fritz was
skipping rope like a machine, and both
men were in as good shape as I can ever
hope to be in my retired years. Yet, I
still got the feeling they were very aware
that, even in good health, old age is an
unforgettable burden. The men
challenged me to guess their ages and
fought back toothy grins when I un
derestimated. Murray reminisced about
his tennis volleys with Vitas Geralitis
and Fritz recalled his days as a Golden
Gloves boxer and high school sprint star.
As hard as I tried though, I couldn't
envision Murray attacking the ball with
an overhead smash or Fritz pounding
out a left-right combination. I couldn't
picture them without the grey and the
wrinkles, but I'd only known them for 50
minutes, not 50 years.
c 4 ' 4
- a _
Another elderly man entered the gym
and interrupted our training session,
with a quote stolen from George Bernard
Shaw. "I'm sick and tired of going to the
funerals of all my friends who exercise,"
he chuckled. Keeping in shape in one's
golden years, I found, is not only a battle
against blood pressure, but against peer
pressure too.
Several people would rather their
seniors didn't join in the fun. At a disco
near the beach, a couple in their early
60's were outclassing every 20 and 30-
year old on the dance floor when I
overheard one barstoolee remark:
"Why don't they act their age!" Even if
an old fellow wants to forget his age,
there are a lot of people around who
want to remind him.
Most of the folks I ran into though
didn't even try to forget their age.
Conversation inevitably turned to
medicine, doctors and the skyrocketing
cost of health care. And while Murray
and Fritz may be flexing in the mirror,
there are others in good shape who don't
seem to believe in themselves.
I
schools that are are those 14 colleges and
universities owned and operated by the state
they've been recommended for 7 percent in
creases. That figure may even be closer to 9
percent, according to state Rep. Gregg Cun
ningham, R-Centre.
Considering Penn State's contributions to the
Commonwealth, the difference in the
proportionate budget slices between state
related and state-owned schools is larger than it
should be. Penn State's research and
development in areas such as agriculture and
engineering benefit people throughout the state
as well as the world. Also, the reputations of
Penn State, Pitt and Temple are valuable
drawing cards for Pennsylvania, bringing into
the state people and their money who
would otherwise never come here.
The state-owned schools, on the other hand,
are mostly teachers colleges and liberal arts
schools valuable in their own right, but not
compared to Penn State. And according to Rep.
Cunningham, salaries at the state-owned
schools are already among the highest
educational paylists in the country.
Gov. Thornburgh's plan for the final year of
this decade seems to be a giant leap for the
state-owned schools, a small step for Penn
State.
Letters to the Editor
• Vicki Smith
State College resident
March 7
the bell tower of Old Main could probably ac
commodate the crowd.
Women's weak
Do you know what Thursday March 8 was?
Well . . . it was International Women's Day. Big
deal you may say. Due to lack of interest In
ternational Women's Day has been canceled on
the Penn State campus.
Over term break, I made a journey north
towards Amherst, Mass., where I was pleased at
the response to Women's Week. A ' women's
concert with Mpg Christian, JT Thomas and
Holly Near kicked off the event, and was
followed by week-long women-oriented ac
tivities. The community, area universities and
media all did an incredible job to make Women's
Week a success.
My question to be pondered is this: Why is
After running me ragged on the tennis
courts, a gentlemen who had just turned
65 told me he wished he could have 40
years back again. It's a good thing I held
back my panting and wiped my brow
quickly or the guy wouldn't have thought
all 20-year-olds can leap tall buildings in
a single bound.
Although my trip to the Fountain of
Youth provided me with an un
comfortable insight into, literally, "The
Twilight Zone", it also made me ap
preciate that I have what a lot of people
want, but can't buy. A lot of you have it
too. It's a shame that while Murray,
Fritz and many others want it back so
bad, we waste it so often.
So, when the springtime sunshine gets
around to warming this place up and
you've been booking your brains sen
seless and a bunch of friends ask you to
come along to Stone Valley, but you
insist on cramming more, think again
and then close your book.
Because 40 years from now, you'll
value that spring day in your youth very
much . . . even if some young blood
doesn't believe you ever had any fun.
Andy Ratner is a ninth-term jour
nalism major and is editorial editor of
..
The Daily Collegian.
Carol Miele
10th-history
Feb. 15
. . . and you're lucky
Quite a few years ago,• a neurotic,
middle-aged man appeared on one of
those New York City television talk
shows promoting a new book or just
bitching in general, I really can't
remember about time.
The gist of his wild-eyed pitch was that
we all have a limited amount of time
before our respective biological clocks
stop ticking and that every time you're
made to wait for something, the person
or institution making you wait is robbing
you of an irreplacable segment of your
life.
At the time, I dismissed him as either
suffering from male menopause or
chronophobia, but after this last term
break, his message began to take on a
new meaning.
It began when I missed a C.O.D.
delivery the first time, was 27 cents
short the second time, and went to the
bank especially, to withdraw money for
the third, and last delivery. Upon
returning from the bank, my roommate
told me the United Parcel Service man
was just there, and that he was returning
my package to the company from
whence it came. At first I thought he Was
kidding, because the U.P.S. man had
told me he wouldn't be showing up until 5
Penn State so conservative, should I dare say
apathetic? Every state school and most large
schools that I know of have an active women's
center located on campus. (Did you know that
there is a women's center in town?) Most radio
stations provide adequate air time for female
musicians. However, I find that not to be the case
at Penn State. Did you know many colleges have
a women's studies major and/or option (and did
you know that Penn State is finally in the stages
of formulating one)?
Do you realize that of all the concerts spon
sored on this campus, none were geared towards
women's music? (Have you ever tried to reach
the president of the University Concert Com
mittee? . . .IhaVe.)
What I do hope one realizes is that
. there is
plenty of consciousness raising needed
open campus, and that there are several avenues open
to us to achieve that goal. It is my sincere hope
that next year, International Women's Day can
be a success, and that it is geared towards a
feminist perspective, here on this campus. Main
p.m. and it was only noon.
Desperate for the package, I called the
U.P.S. office, and was told I could catch
the delivery man at a local restaurant.
He was there, and made me wait at least
a half-hour to get the package. Ap
parently two minutes of his time was
worth more than 30 of mine.
For the first time in years, I thought of
that neurotic man on the TV.
A week or so later, I was working part
time with a local store delivering fur
niture in a vintage van held together
more by hope than nuts and bolts. The
relic's battery chose to visit that great
recharger in the sky in the middle of
traffic one sunny afternoon during the
noon rush.
Luckily, I was able to coast down Allen
Street into a vacant parking space, trot
to the store to get someone with a car
and cables to come over in the adjacent,
vacant parking space for a jump, and
trot back to guard the aforementioned
space before it was occupied.
The first man pulling into that space
immediately left when I told film why I
needed it. Tim second man told me, in
effect, to go to hell. He said he wouldn't
be back for maybe an hour, and that I
could jolly well wait until then to jump
the van. Only after the most persistant
cajoling did he begrudgingly consent to
move the car to one of the available
spaces down the street. And then, he told
me that if I were him, I wouldn't be
doing me such a favor.
I told him I didn't need any favors
thinking that he didn't have any right to
steal even an hour of my life because of
his laziness. The neurotic little man and
his emphasis on time being more than
just money again entered my mind.
And then there was the pudgy little
math teacher at the high school where
my mother works, who, drunk with the
power 'he exercised over those who
would presume to walk that school's
corridors between classes, would not let
me pass to tell my mother I was
borrowing her car.
t ( ''
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RRy
YoU
if you get that much : - -I' -
..„.D,
Every hall guard I encountered in Ult.:.
last four years at that school had let nig:::
by, but this guy weighed my tinier:::i
against the possibility that "she might 7.li'
be going over an important point," af,t.,,,,
decided to make me wait. No reflectio gi l t
on my mother's teaching, but I douCti!!':
that even her approach to teaching higldlV
school Spanish would be impaired by"„ ;
-
ten-second interruption. , .--.7A-4
tl7i
At exactly the point when I turned WIN
on the teacher's smugly smiling mugrf:111: 1
remembered the neurotic man on TV,ldi.,:
and decided that he wasn't so neurotiql:i!w
after all. .
A ti•,,,;
V ).
I began to appreciate my dentist, who,..
for as long as I can remember has 11::.:
kept me waiting in his office for more,:::
than 10 minutes at a time the sound of •,:-:
drill bits grinding into roots ma ing*:::
seem even less. Conveysel I.llei.e ate.f.:'
these two surgeons in tompe. 41 keei):.4•!:
y il
you waiting for an an, 1i9u141 . I .i hall,:-:::.
and once made me W4iftliir•nearly three;;.. •
hours for an examination. • .• . ' '
That's three hours staring at fractured:
tibias and reading month-old People: ,:.
magazines when you could be working,:: :.:
learning, sleeping, walking, talking,: :,0
philandering doing anything yob.':
want; not what someone else forces yoli::: , ZE
to do.:: ::: ..,
. _
" — sc)i2r
‘;'/itAt'tt..
campus has the potential to formulate a strotig i
governing women's caucus and I feel it is time
that the feminists on campus pull together to it
work together ,
Jill Jacoby,. p
9th-agricultural engineering; ‘ It
March 8
i:
dlinlCollegiai n
4 : ,
'j
Pete Barnes Marjie Schlessinger
Editor Business Manager' ~;".
BOARD OF EDITORS: Managing Editor, Harry, .Glenp.;,
Editorial Editors, Andy Ratner, Jim Zarroli; - News-Editore. 4 •4
Bruce Becker, Gipa Carroll;_CPpy Editors, Corliss Efachriatitr,v,:s7.
Vicki Fong, Tim Konski, Allen Reeder, Jim Wilhelm, Mary Ellen -- 3 :+k:
Wright; Photo Editors, Chip Connelly, Joe Tort; Assistant Phtito: l -: -
Editor, Dave Kraft; Sports Editor, Jerry Micco; Assistant Sportge r
Editors, Denise Bachnian, Jon Saraceno; Features Editor, ShkiP , w 4- :
Ellis; Arts Editor, Joyce Gannon; Assistant Arts Editor, Diahe-:-
Younken; Graphics Editor, Della Hoke; Office Managir,-,..,^
Lorraine Ryan.
An example somewhat closer to home', 1; r.„ .
maybe that boring prof you had laiit: :.;•--
term, a sure cure for insomnia and ncit-:: 4 :
just because you weren't interested iii:!f•:'
the subject, but, because he wki:;l .
repetitious, assigned a book that was: -
twice as long or complex as it need be;: , ::::
and taught things irrelevant to ttie. :;-.:
subject matter, your major and life In';?
general and then had the nerve to test::
you on them. ..
.: i;l4-:
You know, the kind of prof that mak'esliV
e.Arvnadtiornnadyibden'until
yocii,l:-.
you appreciate the other kind of prof whiy ;;; . 4::
gives his lectures clearly, concisely ap - '41,1:
interestingly and who spends.your tincel 0 :
as efficiently as he would spend his own: i i . 4.':
Back when I first saw the neurotielo;
man and the only scheduling probleins;t:
in: i t t, wasted through th&;15:
were deciding between a weetßkrnalyteomyatcohnalluenabrtill7
scout meeting and watching
w g ti e m h t n e l e e a n n h o d e u l g i l ts h uv c a o :
belligerence or carelessness it
u o n f to
people, you don't really start think' '''',-
nt•( , -.
about time and appreciating
quota of the stuff is almost gone.
.1.11q'•
Bob Frick is a 13th-term journalistie:
major. .:Al.
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