"Mr" 'W 1
Editorials:
outta sight,
outta mind?
For more than three months I've criticized, cajoled
and congratulated on page four,
The impact? It seems negligible.
I wonder how many people have read the editorials.
Of those few, I wonder how many have reacted.
. I don't think my plight is much different from that of
former Daily Nebraskan editors. UNL students have
carried their blase, who-cares attitude for several years
now.
More than once I've wondered what college students
here consider important. It obviously isn't the quality of
education they are receiving. At best, it's mediocre.
Yet how many have complained? Or even have thought
about it?
Most NU students aren't visibly concerned about the
larger world either. The planet might De neaamg
toward widespread famine, economic collapse, nuclear
warfare and more. ,
Although individuals often feel powerless in the face
of these disasters, ignoring them is not the answer.
Problems must be discussed if we are to hope. for their
disappearance.
Sometimes I wonder if the lack of concern comes
from a lack of awareness. Few college students even
read a daily newspaper. Part of an editor's job is to be
an opinion leader, but what if no one has an opinion to
lead?
Enough. Harangues on apathy never prod people. I
can't hope to do better in mine.
jane uwens j
Inconsiderate Americans
gobbling up world's food
Every day American dinner tables offer up a
cornucopia of delights. Steaming vegetables mix odors
over dishes of meat and potatoes. Sugary desserts offer
themselves as rewards to those who clean their plates.
Between meals we stuff ourselves with an assortment
of munchies, crunchies and brunchies that carry us
through to the next mealtime assault.
Once a year we celebrate this overabundance of food
with a feast of overindulgence. Friends and relatives
are pitted against mountains of calories in a battle that
usually ends with empty plates, stuffed tummies and
choruses of "I ate too much."
We call it Thanksgiving. The starving have another
name for it. Waste.
Why are Americans so inconsiderate? Why do we
drive metal monsters that gobble gas when other
nations are satisfied to use economy cars? Why do we
b use natural resources like God or the Constitution gave
us exclusive rights to earth's wealth? And why do we
stuff ourselves when the world is hungry?
For one thing, we've been conditioned to it. Flashing
(RQAwSigns over slop shops imprint .the, word, "EAT"
Tiivtelibly on our minds. The ring -'of ; cash registers
:sparks a Pavlovian responseshoppers scurry for
anything marked new, improved or fortified, regardless
of its nutritional value.
staff
opinion
We're taught that the skinny man is sick, the
vegetarian odd. Arid it's no coincidence that America
was the first nation to invent vending machinesa
development that allows us to catacomb even our walls
with food. . ' : '
This preoccupation with gluttony starts early. A
healthy baby is a happy baby. So Mother shoveled
spoonfuls of food down our mouths And we kept that
spoon flying roundtrips between plate and mouth the
rest of our lives.
Ironically, it was also Mother who first made us
aware that somewhere beyond our dinner table there
are people with birdcage bodies, protruding stomachs
and eyes as empty as their dinner plates.
"Clean your plate, dear," she said. "Don't you know
there are starving children in India who would give,
anything to have what you've got?"
So we cleaned our plates and won our desserts and
somehow those children in India were supposed to be a
little less hungry because of it. The reasoning is faulty
but typical.
Nevertheless, Mother was close to a solution -or at
least a starting point. We've got to stop the waste.
Go to a cafeteria some day and watch what people
throw away. Half-empty glasses of milk nestle against
plates of poorly-picked chicken and the dessert
someone thought they could (or should) eat but didn't.
Watch that food go into a trash can when it could just as
well go into an empty stomach halfway around the
world or here in our own country.
And we've got to stop eating junk. Compare the
turn-of-the century grocery store with today's,
suprmarkets. The staples of our diet have been joined
by a myriad of products that promise the world and
deliver indigestion along with little nutritional value.
The ingredients in those products could just as easily
go into something more useful. And watching football
games and soap operas without munchies is not as hard
as we think.
The time has come to rethink our thinking,
recondition our conditioning.
On a sinking ship, the man who keeps the only life
raft to himself can expect sooner or later to have to fight
for it. If he shares it or shows the others how to make
their own, he'll survive. If not, he'll drown.
Earth, already layercaked with people and limited in
arable land, may be such a ship, the time has come to
cut our waste, to share our food and technology with
our less fortunate neighbors before they come to get
it.
Wes Albers
Recipe foryuletide cheer
My lately-raised consciousness has
provoked a new recipe for Christmas
cheer.
Start with the traditional Santa
Claus and God Rest Ye Merry
Gentlemen and stir vigorously to raise
fresh spirits to the top. What you get
are Russian folk tales and pin-up
calendars that put the shoe on the
other fcot.
amy struthers
fooo sioe
Despite the influence of a Jewish
baby so many years ago, Santa Claus
seems to be the big star of the
pre-Christmas rush. As I watched one
irbmUfcelUdAifyftiass lolly fa1J m&cods
bbunoing'alMie'gifl on his khee,?a
favorite person of mine reminded me
that the whole world doesn't depend
on men for the delivery of their
goodies.
He told me the story of Babushka,
. Eastern Europe's answer to Saint
Nick. The picturesque peasants say
that when Babushka, an old grand
mother, heard of the birth of Jesus,
she filled a big basket with toys and
started walking to Bethlehem.
She found out the Holy Land wasn't
exactly within walking distance of
Siberia. But she kept on walking and
started handing out her toys to little
children she met along the way. She's
been walking ever since.
That bit of folklore aside, I started
through the stores, looking for those
perfect gifts that never materialize.
But I did find some interesting results
of the women's movement on mer
chandising. The bookstores proved to be the
most fertile round. Among the
calendars, three caught my eye. The
first is "The Liberated Woman's
Appointment Calendar", which also
is being sold at the Women's
Resource Center. A collection of black
and white photos and notes on the
advance of Women's Suffrage, it sells
for about $3.
A more colorful calendar is a
collection of art work by women
artists, people one rarely hears about.
The works span several centuries and
are a good reminder that women have
been . paintingjand Sculpting- for i
longer than just the past twenty
years.
The one I bought was "The Ladies' ,
oHoVwe Companion Calendar?-! 'An ,
tarppaHlng exploitation' of' men as sei
objects, the calendar features twelve
sepia-tone photos of men floating in
intertubes, running down country
roads with their dogs and my
favorite standing by an old propeller
airplane, dlad only in goggles and a
long scarf. 'Tis the season to be jolly.
As I hurried from store to store, I
cast a sidelong glance at the glittering
windows of Frederick's of Hollywood.
Old Fred has some curious ideas
about what's classy. Yet I couldn't
deny the selling appeal of harem
outfits and feather underwear.
And as I climbed into the car and
sped off into the night, I thought to
myself, "God bless us one and all.
And please let the earth swallow up
the University before my finals."
MY -vv YH K
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"Strange things about more bombs. ..it squeezes us closer together"
page 4
daily nebraskan
friday, december 13, 1974