COMMENTARY

Not deprived, not defined: a ‘lost generation’

Kristina Egger

Earlier this week a writer for The Winston Salem Journal called the Student Publications Office to ask if any large anti-war protests had occurred on the Appalachian State University campus since the Bush administration launched the on-going military campaign in Afghanistan.

With the exception of a cowardly display on Sanford Mall in late September, our campus has remained relatively quiet. I think that is because many of us do not know what to do about how we are feeling.

We are a lost generation.

We have spent much of our lives patterning ourselves after our parents’ examples because we have suffered no hardships of our own.

We have attempted to turn this war against terrorism into the Vietnam War and the two are not remotely the same.

Why do we feel the need to protest and get worked up about peace when we are dealing with violent people?

It is because we are a lost generation. We live our lives on the coat tails of our parents with little concern for the repercussions of our actions and with little responsibility.

We don’t know what it’s like to really be deprived of anything. We drink expensive beer.
We do expensive drugs.

We drop out of school to follow bands across the country sleeping in the back of our Land Rovers, wearing patchwork pants and fondling nature. We dread our hair, wear bandanas, and pay for our weekend excursions with credit cards, trust funds and money generated by selling garlic grilled cheese sandwiches.

It is easy for us to whine about peace and attempt to talk about things we really know very little about when we have never been threatened ourselves.

We are a lost generation—like the Lost Boys in Peter Pan.

We aren’t living in the 1960s.

We can hear our parents’ stories, listen to their music and call ourselves hippies, but hippies died with Jerry Garcia.

Will we ever live our lives instead of living the lives of our parents? The only thing we have in common is that we are both confused.

I do not think anyone in his or her right mind really enjoys the idea of war. Innocent people, people that we love, die in wars.

The point is right now we have no choice but to fight—regardless of whose fault this whole thing is. Marching for peace will do nothing but simply wear out another pair of shoes that we bought on our parents’ credit cards.

COMMENTARY

Long-term solutions irritate current students

Sarah Newell

I leave my apartment in Banner Elk at 15 minutes after the hour, allowing plenty of time to battle traffic on U.S. Highway 105, arrive at Greenwood Parking Lot, find a space to park my car and catch the 35-minute after bus down to Raley Circle.

However, things are not going exactly as planned. About one month ago I was confronted with one-lane traffic on 105, where crews were patching a few rough spots on the road, backing up traffic for about four miles.

It took about an hour to make a 15-minute trip to school, causing me to miss class. This was followed by the repaving of the highway, on a stretch between University Highlands and Wendy’s, once again creating traffic delays.

Finally, all of this construction was finished, fooling me into believing that I could now arrive at Greenwood on time and catch the bus down to class. I was wrong.

I tried to head down Rivers Street and up Bodenheimer Drive to the Greenwood lot. I managed to drive all of 10 yards up Bodenheimer before traffic came to a halt and I saw a sign that declared “One-Lane Traffic Ahead.” The cause was machinery and trucks around the site of the Living Learning Center.

I, along with about 10 other cars, waited in line to travel up the hill for 15 minutes. I finally turned around to find parking on the street, so that I wouldn’t miss class for yet another traffic-related reason.

These things do not even take into consideration the difficulty of sometimes finding a spot in Greenwood, due to the fact that about a quarter of the few spaces that are in that lot have been blocked by various construction trucks that are clearing debris from an adjacent lot.

I realize Boone is trying to better the roads before winter, and that Appalachian is building more parking for the influx of students that will be attending the university within a few short years. But couldn’t these projects have been both started and completed during the summer, when there wasn’t as much traffic around town?

Yes, there are still the Floridians who come up to Boone to enjoy the cool weather during the summer, there are still summer-school students and students that stay here year-round, and the other non-Appalachian residents who live in Boone.

But the number of drivers who are here during the summer is nowhere near the number that is here during the school year. These traffic problems, which are designed to improve driving and parking in the High Country, are actually more of a hindrance during the busy school-season. While such upgrades are appreciated in the long run, there are better times when the work could be done.

Our Perspective ...

Mini bottle battle
University overstepped bounds with request; faces realities of national culture in effort

The local Alcoholic Beverage Control (ABC) Board recently rejected an Appalachian State University request that local stores place limits on the number of miniature liquor bottles sold on days of home football games.

The request was part of an initiative to curb game day drinking at Kidd Brewer Stadium, spawned by Chancellor Francis T. Borkowski in September after he received several letters from concerned alumni following the season-opening home victory over
Liberty University.

The rationale behind the ABC board’s decision was a consensus among its members that the panel lacked the authority to stand in the way of an individual’s legal right to purchase alcohol.

In an Oct. 25 article, Michael C. Herring, administrator of the North Carolina Alcohol Beverage Commission, told The Appalachian he respects the concerns of the university but does not believe reducing the sale of mini bottles is the solution to its problem, a sentiment we strongly agree with.

We commend university officials for their newly found commitment to enforce long-standing state laws that prohibit the consumption or possession of alcohol on state-owned property and for taking steps to keep the health and safety of the student body paramount in its initiative to limit game day drinking.

But we feel the university overstepped its bounds by attempting to infringe upon a right granted to adults by local and state statutes: the right to legally purchase alcoholic beverages.

We doubt the local ABC Board storms onto the turf of higher education with grandiose requests and suggestions detailing the proper way the University of North Carolina system should educate the future leaders of the Tar Heel state.

In their haste to appease those alumni who penned the aforementioned letters, we must question whether Borkowski and the university officials he selected to coordinate the on-going anti-drinking measures have taken into account a key reality of American society, sports and alcohol have become an interrelated entity in this nation.

To be successful in this effort to curb drinking inside Kidd Brewer Stadium, Appalachian State officials must alter the culture of a university community molded by this national mindset.

The ever-growing relationship between sports and alcohol in the United States is evident in the form of commercial advertising time purchased by beer and alcohol manufacturers during most major televised sporting events, strategically placed signs on outfield walls at a number of major league ballparks or on NASCAR’s high-speed billboards.

A simple fact of life in our society is the connection between sports and alcohol, a firmly cemented cornerstone of American life.

Couple this with the rate of alcohol consumption on most college campuses, and we are forced to ask the following question: Are Borkowski and those leading this effort to combat game day drinking fighting a winnable battle?