This week's stories:
Re-chartering needs cooperation In Our Opinion Let this be a lesson in thoroughness. The debate within the Student Government Association to re-charter the 240-member Student Athlete Association, one of the largest and most diverse student groups on campus, boils down to one thing: failure to thoroughly follow directions. SAA organizers failed to provide adequate details on membership criteria in their petition to re-charter. SGA's Membership Committee failed to follow its bylaws, which require it notifies clubs of negative recommendations before the next senate meeting. SGA representatives interpreted the group's constitution to discriminate against non-athletes, stating the club only accepts Division I athletes for membership. SAA representatives disagree. They say any athlete, team manager, student trainer, cheerleader, sports information worker, Team Bona member or anyone "associated with athletics" may join the group. Any student may try out for athletic teams or work for various divisions of Athletics. Perhaps SAA should have spelled this out clearly on the petition from the onset. And while SGA representatives clearly considered the anti-discrimination clause in their bylaws, they did not consider an equally important section, which requires the committee to notify the group with adequate time to further explain its operation and membership. Student groups must take petitioning for re-charter seriously and consider problem areas such as possible discrimination. The committee must thoroughly stick to its bylaws. Student clubs largely depend upon the funding they receive from SGA. It's only fair if SGA follows its rules when a threat to reject that funding arises. The student Senate is slated to vote to re-charter at its next meeting on Dec. 2. Let's hope they make a point of this sloppy case before the final tallies are taken.
Informational pamphlets lack information In Our opinion That's vague, could you be more specific? Journalism students are used to hearing this plea. The rest of the student body had a chance to ask the same thing after the demonstration in the Reilly Center lobby Monday, informing students about the new recreation center. Representatives handed out pamphlets. Three pages. Boring. Cannon Design's logo graces the cover larger than the words "Recreational Center." Opening the pamphlet unfolds a two-page spread of what the building will hopefully look like — no information. The students and trees superimposed in front of the concept building design look creepy. If one doesn't have superior superimposing abilities, shouldn't superimpose. The students look like ghosts wandering the campus. The pamphlet placed the concept building design in an area that looks like the lawn of the Reilly Center, rather than its intended lot, the tennis courts behind Robinson/Falconio halls. University President Robert J. Wickenheiser calls the location "the heart of the campus" on the first page. Did the tennis team know they had been practicing on the heart of the campus for all these years? Several other pictures and graphics fill the empty space of the pamphlet. A water color picture of the center sits at the bottom of page three, next to a random picture of the Devereux Hall archway. Next to that lies a picture of girls playing volleyball in an already existing gym at some other university — still no information. The pamphlet fills spaces rather than creating them. The unrelated pictures and drawings don't tell students anything about their new building. The back shows a map of the area surrounding the location of the center. Four red arrows surround the center's intended lot and shoot off into all directions. They neither serve a purpose nor bear an explanation. After viewing this promotional literature, students walk away with a picture of the Devereux arch, superimposed ghosts, a quote from the president and four red arrows. Nothing informs students of date of desired completion, cost, size, maximum capacity, center rules or who can even use it. The pamphlet makes a great paper airplane.
OTC performances are always a treat In Your Opinion To the Editor:
I enjoyed the features in this morning's paper about the Olean Community Theatre (OCT) production of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat." As a supporter of OCT, and someone who has worked with the group in the past, I feel it's necessary to offer a bit of clarification on one of the points you made in your review. You referred to the solid performances as "a rare treat for fans of the community theater." While the performances were, indeed, a treat, they were hardly rare. OCT has a reputation throughout New York as being one of the most talented and professional community theatres in the state. In fact, they have won more awards in their 24-year history than any other community theatre in New York. Just last year, their production of "One Person" was not only deemed the best community theatre production in the state, it went on to win first place at the Eastern States Theatre Association's festival, where it beat out productions from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, Delaware, and D.C. The production also netted acting and technical awards. We are lucky to have a theatre company in residence on campus that has such a formidable record of artistic excellence.
Chris Mackowski, Journalism Professor
College students have a great life In Your Opinion To the Editor:
In response to last week's article, "College is a privilege, not a given right," I think that the person that wrote it is just jealous of our lifestyle. Who could argue with the lifestyle we live? On average, the students go to five classes a week, we sleep in late and nap whenever we get the chance, we go out every weekend, which starts on Wednesday, and we have little or no responsibility. Who could not want our lifestyle? College isn't a privilege it is a right that we all chose. I'm not always thrilled to be here, but I know that if I want to have a successful life I need to be. I work 60 hours a week during the summer at the two worst jobs one could have so I can survive at SBU all school year without depending on my parents. I am responsible for paying back school loans when I finish my time here at Bonaventure. I worked my butt off in high school to get into SBU, and I continue to do it now so I can remain here. If coming here were a "privilege," I wouldn't have to work two jobs all summer from five in the morning to sometimes nine at night. I wouldn't have to try hard in the classroom. Going to college is a right by law to everyone. Financially, if a family cannot afford it, it is taken care of by the government, and we all know the government doesn't give anyone "privileges." Going to school at SBU or and private university is a right to anyone who strives to be successful in life no matter sex, color, or where they come from in terms of family background. I believe that the author of the article that was in last week's edition of The Bona Venture is just jealous. One can always go back to school. The author used an effective tool also referred to as "sarcasm" when he stated that, "Émaybe for Christmas [we] can thank our parents for sacrificing so much to send [us] to a great college which is [our] given right!" Maybe the author should ask for an application to St. Bonaventure this Christmas if he is so envious of us. I hear that Santa Claus is making appearances at the Olean Mall.
Rob Dermody, Junior
By Allie Herryman Last week in Clare 104, The Good Life, the class spent an hour applying the philosopher Kant's theories to whether or not it was moral for someone to "go have sex" if offered the opportunity. The discussion touched on the autonomy of individuals and the possibilities of life changing consequences as a result of the decision. Throughout the class, students used the word "sex" in many contexts, including "go have sex," "don't have sex" and "have safe sex." After a few minutes of blushing and cringing at the word, everyone in the class got relatively comfortable with using it and participation soared. Nothing like a good sex talk to get a class involved, but the very level of involvement made me wonder when we began to accept using "sex" so casually. How much did desensitization to the word effect the perception of the decision the class discussed? Everyone's vocabulary has included "sex" in some form or another. People throw it around in jest, sincerity and proposition. Few give it much thought. With the exception of perhaps saying "sex" to a parent in reference to the weekend's planned activities, no one hesitates. This includes the class. One day, sex became just a word, a three-letter clinical term to describe an action that many students experience during their college careers. It's a subject of jokes, a topic of conversation at parties and a source of class discussion. When used in mixed company and casual discussion, it's just as simple to use as "he" and "she." At some time, I'm sure society gave sex more respect than that. Just as in earlier decades people reserved the action for a happy couple's wedding night, where they could share the experience intimately, they once saved "sex" for quiet whispers. The Victorian generation revered the word to the point that they kept it as quiet as the biological details of the action. Hearing the word proclaimed loudly across the classroom would have caused them to roll over in their graves. Sex, the action, is intimate. In its ideal form, it involves a great deal of caring by the individuals and a strong desire to express emotions that there are no words for. Sex should be romantic and beautiful. It even plays a role in the great phenomenon of reproduction. It can lead to the creation of another human life, born out of an expression of love between two people. Currently, many people take sex as simply an action performed for the desired physical result. These days, though it can also include a whole selection of sexually transmitted diseases. With those considerations, it should mean much more than it once did to share that activity with someone. Instead, the word means less. People talking about sex, from the classroom to the bedroom, need to remember the action behind the word. Sex is the strongest bond a pair of people can share, but if used improperly it can be a death sentence. Sex should not be as casual as it is becoming, in word or in action. Remember the value you place on the best sex you've ever had or heard about. Use the word accordingly.
Dev fire alarms are living nightmares
By Tracy Nelson You know that feeling when you're all cuddled up under an oversized fleece blanket laying in bed on a cold fall night? You're in such a deep slumber that you're dreams become realities? You've taken a night off from the partying that is sy nonimous with St. Bonaventure to stay in and catch up on some much-needed z's? Then it happens. That irritating, never-ending sound that makes you roll over in your sleep. Beep, beep, beep. You even convince yourself for five minutes that it's not real, just one of your dreams creeping into reality. Beep, beep, beep. Finally, you can only muster up enough energy to open one eye. Then you make that fateful jump from the top bunk with a raging sigh. You bundle up because it's going to be a cold one. Beep, beep, beep. Better grab the mittens, too. As you march down the three flights of stairs, the noise seems to vibrate against your eardrum, louder and louder with each step. You open the door, greeted by a gust of 30-degree Western New York weather. The degrees seem to drop as the minutes go by. Fifteen minutes. Thirty minutes. Forty minutes. Just another night full of Devereux fire alarms. This semester they happen more and more often, and for no good reason. The question remains, why? They seem to have become an addiction to the nearest drunk who comes into the building. For the past four weekends, at least one fire alarm has disrupted residents' sleep as late as 5 a.m. I guess after a few pitchers and a keg-stand or two, the fire alarm begins to resemble that blonde at the party, he just can't keep his hands off. Of course, there's the ever-so-popular burning of the midnight snack: popcorn, Raymen noodles and other options that are a must-have after any night of partying. The problem here lies in the fact that he can't seem to understand how to work this new and strange appliance staring him in the face. It's called a microwave. Ten minutes is good enough. Well, better make it 20 just in case. Beep, beep, beep, and run. Then he joins the rest of his friends outside on the Devereux lawn while the resident assistants take an eternity to check the rooms. Everyone's complaining and he just stands there looking innocent and clean. After the 40-minute wait and the usual slap on the wrist lecture from Mr. Resident Director, he finally goes back inside. He forgets his midnight snack, and you resume your slumber. Beep, beep, beep. Here we go again.
The big screen plays dreams of society
By Torre Catalano Director Martin Scorsese said movies are like a dream state. Doctors, businessmen, politicians — they have important jobs — but screenwriters and directors take us to dreamlands. I don't think we could live without them. Imagine a world without movies. We'd be the most unhappy creatures in the universe. A truly good movie keeps you on a high all day. Different movies have the ability to cater to our different moods. There are few things in this world that can make us sad when we're happy, happy when we're sad, and even sadder when we're sad. Movies can do this because we let them. There is something in the magic of the silver screen that makes us submit to the story being visually presented to us. We open up. We let them in and they consume us for two hours. There are few things we give that sort of power to. So what is it about movies? Why do we allow them to change our moods, to get inside out heads and make us cry or shout or burry our face in the shoulder of the person sitting next to us? We know it's not real, but man do we cry when Ingrid Bergman gets on the plane. We watched a movie in English class the other day. I watched a girl hold her hands just above her eyes so she could see, yet still keep them ready to quickly shield her eyes for the gory parts to come. I thought to myself, "She knows this is fake, right?" It didn't matter, the movie was in her. She let it in and for the next 50 minutes of class, it owned her. Very much like our dreams. We know dreams aren't real. Some dreams have scared the hell out of me nonetheless. I've checked in closets and looked under beds, I admit it. The closets in Gardens Apartments aren't big enough to house a boogey man. When I first saw "Rocky 3," I was 10. After the movie, I constructed a man made of pillows and beat him senseless. After seeing Kevin Costner in "Robin Hood" I made a bow and arrow out of sticks and string and made the kid next door run around while I shot sticks at him. After seeing Disney's "Dumbo," I couldn't go to Kindergarten for a week because the scene when his mother got captured damaged me psychologically and I couldn't part with my own mother. When teachers asked me why I clawed at the walls as they tried to drag me into class, I answered simply, "the movie." As I grew, movies affected me in a different way. I wanted to make my own. My first few films were straight rip offs. The black-and-white mystery-drama I did at age 13 had Scorsese written all over it. My eight-minute, disturbing story of a man and his depressing day came straight from the mind of Tarentino. Still, I wanted to take people to that dream state, even if the audience was just reduced to my immediate family. Psychologists sometimes use dreams to define us. If movies are like dreams, then they can tell us a lot about ourselves and our society. Doctors can heal us, politicians can guide us, but directors and screen writers can make us forget about whatever might be ailing us. That's a dream I never want the world to wake from.
My top 10 movies of all time: 1. ÒThe GodfatherÓ 2. ÒOn the WaterfrontÓ 3. ÒPulp FictionÓ 4. ÒThe Royal TenenbaumsÓ 5. ÒRaging BullÓ 6. ÒOne Flew Over The Cuckoo's NestÓ 7. ÒGoodfellasÓ 8. ÒPsychoÓ 9. ÒCasablancaÓ 10. ÒRushmoreÓ
Living alone teaches life's lessons
By Mike Trask My first apartment in Allegany cost $325 a month, including utilities. It wasn't a bad place. Of course, movie stars won't be moving in upstairs anytime soon. But, it was nice enough for a college student. In a big city it would probably would have cost $500 a month. In New York City it would cost three times as much, plus two of my extremities and utilities. I'll probably live in worse places in my life. A St. Bonaventure University degree won't make me a millioniare in my late twenties, nor do I like my luck in the lottery. But, I can't put a price tag on my first apartment. After dreaming of my luxurious first place of my own, I had it. I didn't have the loft and fireplace I envisioned. Neither did it have the pool table and game room I had dreamed of. It had a porch though. It provided a great look at the railroad tracks behind the building. The blaring horn had a nice ring to it. It said, "You have your own apartment. Welcome to the real world." I'll admit it, I thought the whole living on my own for the first time thing would be much easier. Then I had to turn on the telephone service: $55. Then I put gas in my car: $20. Then I bought groceries: $45. Then I went to the laundry mat: $6. That was the first two days. Luckily, some family and friends donated the essentials, like vintage lime-green plates and a toaster. It made me wonder how my parents kept me fed. More than that, it makes me wonder how parents with several children manage. It's beyond me, being a naïve youngster, how families survive. Parents pay for it all; mortgages, car payments, clothes, food, phone bills, movie tickets, baseball gloves and dolls. Kids live, eat, get rides, borrow the car, call our friends, go to the cinema and play. And then we wonder why mom or dad occasionally go into one of those parental rants with wild accusations, "You spoiled brat. Learn to be thankful." Everyone has heard something along these lines in their life, and every parent has uttered, or screamed, something like it. Now I know why. I'd be upset if I paid $50 for a new tennis racket, then my kid lost it the next day. This I did. I would also flip out all the times I was conned into buying the boxes of cereal with the cool toy inside, then saw my child eat half a bowl, get the toy and let the it go stale in the cupboard. This, too, I did. But, remember parents, especially those of college students, we are thankful. Even if sometimes we don't show it, and even if we make mistakes or don't eat the cereal.
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