Letting go
. Drugs end close relationship
I began my senior year of high
school without any friends I could call
my own. I left for lunch alone every
day, certain that everyone was watching
me.
Then I noticed Amy (not her real
name) walking toward the parking lot
and took a chance. By the end of the
half-hour, we were sworn lunch part
ners.
Amy and I shared a lot in the 12
months that followed: gossiping fifth
hour, cruising and smoking during
lunch hour, getting high and giggling
on the bus to Grant. I taught Amy to
drive a stick-shift on country roads dur
ing lunch.
One day that spring comes to mind,
along with a memory of twist ice
cream dried on my car door:
Amy and I both worked at
McDonald’s. We were taking a main -
after work; she was driving my car, and
I was anxious as usual. Three times in a
row I had to yell at her to avoid rear
ending somebody.
I flung open my door right there on
B Street, ran around the back of the car
and told her to get the hell out of the
driver’s seat. A block later my ice cream
cone plastered itself to the door as I
screeched to a stop. I guess by that
point we were even copying each
other’s mistakes.
A nasty break-up that March trig
gered my fall into a painful depression.
I was determined to fight it with the
help of my friends. I told them all how I
was feeling and begged for their sup
port. I don’t know whether they were
scared by my candor or whether they
just didn’t give a damn; I watched them
abandon me one by one.
Amy was the only one who stood
by me. She nursed my confidence back
to a point where I could be happy
again.
I’m crying now.
I was home for a weekend this
spring when I realized Amy had a prob
lem.
She was driving my car, like old
times, and I didn’t even realize she was
stoned until she gushed, “Oh, Kate, it
was so crazy! We smoked this fat-ass
blunt, and then passed the steamroller
and smoked another blunt..
That night should have made me
realize what was happening and take
the initiative to rescue her.
Gone were the days when we got
high only once in a while, as an excep
tion. Smoking weed had become a
daily routine for Amy ; coke or meth
was an occasion.
I contended that I didn’t see how
smoking pot could be that great when
you did it every day. Amy tried to ratio
nalize it with medical-type B.S., telling
me that everybody gets a different high
and that it just doesn’t affect me
enough to make me like it.
Amy was excited when I decided to
move back home for the summer. She
spoke of all the fim we would have and
how it would be just like last summer.
“And just wait till you meet Melissa!
She’s from Omaha, and she’s so cool.
You’ll get along great ”
Melissa was what Amy needed; she
was a friend who had similar interests.
Most importantly, she was on Amy’s
side of matters that were driving a
wedge between us.
A Friday early in the summer:
I found Amy early in the evening,
just returning from the lake with
Melissa.
The three of us drove around,
cranked up the stereo and wandered
from party to party. We grabbed a beer
when we could or took a couple hits if £
joint was going around.
The night was good until some
body gave Amy 10 bucks to buy crank.
She tracked down her supplier, a guy sc
disgusting 1 didn’t want to be seen talk
ing to him.
Amy threw in a 10, and they scored
their stuff. They never even thought of
splitting it with the guy whose money
they’d taken.
A couple of weeks later I was at
Amy’s house. She showed me her most
recent shoplifting score and told me
about Mike, a guy she’d met in Lincoln
and was crazy about.
She had called in sick to work, and
we were going to do something that
night. Then the phone rang. There was
a party in Lincoln, and Mike would be
there.
Amy and Melissa left at 5 in the
afternoon for a town four hours away,
with the intention of getting drunk and
stoned and driving home by 8 in the
morning.
I never should have let her go. I told
Amy that I would drive by work in the
morning to see if she’d made it back. I
tried to make her understand how wor
ried I would be if she wasn’t there.
I hardly slept that night, and by
8:30 a.m. I was at Mickey D’s. She
wasn’t. I spent that day making
phone calls to the highway
patrol. I scouted Amy’s
house and the cruise
route. Over and over I
called the girl whose
party they’d gone to.
Visions of Amy’s I
funeral played in
my head.
Amy showed up V
around 5, wearing my
sunglasses and acting
like nothing was the
matter. That night I sat
in the back while Amy
and Melissa drove all
over town look
ing for someone
wno would give mein a nee iiiwinj
bowl.
We never hung out again. \|J \
One night Amy ditched work ^
to go to the fair. I was so wor
ried about the direction her life was tak
i ing that I couldn’t concentrate on my
shift in the drive-through, and when rm
dad came
through, I ran out of the store to cry in
his arms.
I decided to visit the Narcotics
Anonymous office the next day and ask
them what I could do. I broke down
crying again when I told my mom
about my plan. That’s when I learned of
Amy’s greatest offense, one that far sur
passed not calling me back or leaving
me to cover her shift.
Amy had stolen a prescription pad
from a clinic and forged a doctor’s note
for missing work. And she had signed
my mother’s name at the bottom. I told
my mom, “Amy is my friend, and I love
her. I have to help her.”
1 was not angry
until I found out
that the
\ manage
ment
thought I
was in on
it.
Shawn Drapal/D^K^^
At McDonald s, we otten joke tnat
we’re “going to lose it before the night
is over.” When 1 had to work with Amy
for six hours, the joke got serious. I
could feel the rage boiling inside of me,
barely kept in check by worried looks
from the manager. I promised that by
the end of the night I would either start
throwing punches or end up on the
floor, giggling maniacally. Fortunately,
I went with the latter.
In McDonald’s terms, I lost it. The
remaining weeks of the summer were
more emotionally charged than any
thing I’ve experienced. The slightest
glimpse of Amy or mention of her
name set me off. I threw a bag of
ketchup at a guy in the drive-through
because he pointed at her car.
Instead of cleaning when I wasn’t
busy, I gazed out the window. Unable
to comprehend the images in front of
me, I closed my eyes and watched the
confused bubbles of feeling that
bounced against a blank screen in my
mind.
I slowly forgave Amy, who had
never realized why I was mad at her. It
was easier to laugh and talk with
■ her than to be hostile. I left
town without saying goodbye,
and we haven’t spoken since.
1 think ot Amy otten ana
try not to wonder if she’s
thinking of me. I don’t
I know whether I’m writing
this for Amy or for all of
you. I’m not trying to tell
i anyone how to live.
| Maybe I am trying
I to warn you that drugs
I can take over your life
[ if you ’re not careful.
' Watch out for your
friends and make sure
they realize how impor
fv xani iney are 10 you.
Amy, I know this col
umn will find its way to you.
You’ve taught me quite a les
son, one I wouldn’t have mind
ed missing out on. Sister of
i my heart, I love you and
wish you well.
Kate Grafel is a junior news-editonal and English major and a guest columnist.
Growing up, not out
Development could destroy fragile ecosystemsl_
Lincoln is not unique in that it faces
a critical turning point during the next
five years, which will either direct it
toward a prosperous, contained future,
or one that is ravaged by the spoils of a
cancerous growth.
In the beginning, the developing
agencies in Lincoln (MEGA, Lincoln
Public Schools, UNL, Chamber of
Commerce, etc.) look for areas within
the city’s jurisdiction that are inexpen
sive to purchase and are easy to devel
op.
Some of these areas are fragile
ecosystems like wetlands and prairies,
and other areas consist of the most
prime farmland in the vicinity. Neither
is of much concern to greed-intoxicat
ed suits with big play toys.
Since profits from agriculture have
been ruined by the very industrializa
tion that creates its grossly obscene
production level, the farmland around
Lincoln is very cheap and very ripe for
development.
Next, when these prospective
developers find a good piece of specu
lative property, a series of events
occurs:
1) Go through the bureaucracy of
working with the
Lincoln/Lancaster County
Planning Department,
2) Amend the Lincoln/Lancaster
County Comprehensive Plan
for a “zone” change (which
dictates what may or may not
be built in an area),
3) Get approval of the zone change
by the City Council and mayor,
developing site plans for the
development with regard to the
new “zone” distinction,
4) Engineer around possibly dan
gerous situations (which are
usually better to be avoided
altogether),
5) Get approval of the site plans by
the city council and mayor
6) And finally, finance the develop
ment.
This process can take three months
to two years or more, depending on the
amount of engineering involved to
develop a safe plan, answer public con
cerns and begin the political/planning
bureaucracy.
During this time, a lot of money is
spent on lawyer fees, engineer consult
ing, land acquisition, etc.
But here’s the inside scoop.
The main developing entities, the
lawyers, the politicians, the media, the
planners, the engineers... some of them
sleep together in the same bed and do
not pursue the benefit of the Lincoln
“community.”
Their “community” is defined as
who can scratch whose back in order to
make a quick buck for the elites
u
It will be a cornerstone of doom for
Wilderness Park by adding a notch in the
noose of a sensitive ecosystem habitat and
beginning the paving of a tremendous water
storage area.
involved.
It takes only a few rotten members
to spoil the bunch. And if the bunch
looks rotten to the people, then there
can be serious trouble.
When I say some, I mean some, not
all. Some of the politicians, media per
sons, planners and engineers have
heartfelt convictions against the march
of sprawl across Lincoln’s farmland.
However, their job position may
shackle their ability to refuse or reject
ugly, irresponsible, disruptive develop
ment proposals. That’s why they
encourage the public to get involved at
the beginning stages, not at the end.
What’s interesting and maybe of
more concern is how little the public
knows about it.
When an insulated group deter
mines the unattractive spread of
Lincoln’s girth, it moves from efficient
and convenient to collusion with con
flicting interests.
It’s a fine line that one dare not
cross.
Of course, the public is given notice
of public hearings, but those notices are
quite small and are imbedded in the
local paper.
The meeting times for public hear
ings often conflict with people’s work
schedules, because they are usually
held at 1:30 in the afternoon. Only on
special occasions do they hold meet
ings in the evenings.
Furthermore, the public’s input at
the time of public hearings comes too
late anyway, because the process has
moved too far along for people to influ
ence any decisions.
Too much money has already been
spent, too many deals have been made,
too many legal problems will be
incurred if the city does not allow the
progress of the project.
Recently the Horizon Business
Center abomination passed through the
City Council (5-2 in favor) and was
signed by Mayor Don Wesely.
For those that don’t know, the
Horizon Business Center will be on the
west side of 14th Street near Pine Lake
! Road, directly abutting Wilderness
Park (save a thin 17-acre buffer strip). It
will house warehouses, other light
industry and business offices.v
It will be a cornerstone of doom for
Wilderness Park by adding a notch in
the noose of a sensitive ecosystem
habitat and beginning the paving of a
tremendous water storage area.
Furthermore, the engineering plans
that the City Council and the mayor
signed were faulty, because the data
used to calculate flood water flow did
not reflect a fully urbanized scenario,
which is what is expected for that area.
The Horizon plans didn’t even take
into account the near-future develop
ment that will be built on the east side
of 14th Street in the same area that will
increase the rate and amount of water
flow into the Horizon area.
As other developments strangle
Wilderness Park, it will become the
country’s first throw-away park after
being nationally recognized in the
1970s as an innovative method for
flood retention and reintegrating wild
areas near urban centers.
It’s time that Lincoln grew up,
because growing out is simply irre
sponsible in light of present concerns
and interests of the general health, safe
ty and welfare of the community.
We might get along for one more
year, but when an emergency hits this
town down the road, it will be far more
difficult to recover the community’s
losses when the community has
stretched itself too thin.
How long does it take for people to
understand?
Graham Johnson is a graduate student in Germany environmental and social studies and a Daily Nebraskan columnist
