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Western Carolinian Volume 61 Number 01

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  • AVestern Carolinian June 15,1995 J^ditorial If Chief Seattle Could See Us Now By Lynn Jones Editor in Chief Did you know that the cost of the paper we use for the WC has more than doubled in the past two years? I thought when I was told this that it was due to inflation but then I thought, "no, that would be silly. Prices don't go up that much that quickly." I then asked the inevitable question.... Why? It seems that Japan and Europe are running out of paper and must now order the majority of their paper from the good 'ol U S of A. Thus we, Americans, must pay the same prices that our American companies charge other countries. The fact that prices have gone up doesn't really sadden me as much as the fact that anyone is "running out of paper." I never would have thought in my wildest childhood dreams that it was possible to run out of trees, woods, forests, and .. . you get the picture. How can it be that an Earth full of intelligent life can exist so long without learning the proper respect for the land. Another example of the lack of respect for our earth that hits closer to home are the Cullowhee Cliffs, just off Speedwell Road. When I came to Western three years ago, the Cliffs were relatively clean. Today the entire area is covered with beer cans, snack wrappers, pieces of styro-foam and cigarette butts. The Cliffs offer one of the most spectacular views in Cullowhee. Yet, it seems that most of its visitors see it as one really big waste basket. This is very sad. Mother Nature saw fit to give us a spot from which we can view and appreciate ail that she has created. Instead of seeing the perfection we heap trash on it. Chief Seattle (quoted to the right of this article), in his letter to President Franklin Pierce, described the consequences of this attitude best when he said; "Continue to contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste." Mother Nature Isn't Good Enough for the Olympics Wh: thin By Bryan Hunter Staff Reporter The Ocoee River is a strange place. en you drive in from the east, the first § you see is a parking lot full of cars with kayaks and canoes riding atop. While driving to the put-in you are graced with the pleasure of seeing the entire 'vcr that you are trying to get excited over. P°n arrival at the take-out, the same scene awaits you that you just left six miles of lnd'ng road ago; a paved parking lot and hundreds of people. The rapids of the Ocoee are enter- fo'n'8 and not very difficult so they provide h a great P'ace for intermediate paddlers to m°ne their ^ills. The thing that draws so anY paddlers to the Ocoee are the great Pj>y spots. The only problem is that all the ch^ts you see in the parking lot will be ocked up at evey single one of these spots. 80s run high here and you will quickly be padC0Ura§ed by the lack of respect that ever ^^ ea°h °thcr 0Ut here- M°St be I?0116 IS paddling for the weak reason to et^r than the next "hot boater." '"ere is a new edition to the lovely atmosphere of the Ocoee: the Whitewater portion of the 1996 Olympic Games. The genius engeineers that have been hired to take on the great task of changing a river are doing a great job of destroying an alredy struggling environment. The water of the Ocoee has never been known for it's cleanliness; The drain-off from the copper mines surrounding Ducktown, Tennessee has polluted the river's waters for many years.-The windy road along the river has been the site of numerous accidents with tractor trailers spilling their contents into the river. Sometimes toxic, other times not. Now, with the arrival of the Olympics, the Ocoee faces another environmental night- marc. There will be three times more paddlers to choke the river and possibly a new road to bring in more traffic. And the worst part is that they are actually changing a natural river to create rapids for a race! I don't know about all of you out there, but when I go paddling I don't want to see anyone, much less a bunch of river construction. I don't care how much money is going to be brought into this area, I don't want these money-hungry morons destroying our rivers! ;.V,%W In 1854, Chief Sealth (Seattle) composed a reply to the US Government concerning the offer to buy two million acres of Indian land in the Northwest. The following statement is a translation of his reply, and is one of the most eye opening works of literature I have ever encountered: The Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. The Great Chief also sends us words of friendship and good will. This is kind of him, since we know he has little need of our friendship in return. But we will consider your offer. How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them? Every part of the earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clearing, and every humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the red man. So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us... This we know: All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself. But we will consider your offer to go to the reservation you have for my people. We will live apart, and in peace. One thing we know, which the white man may one day discover- our God is the same God. You may think now that you own him as you wish to own our land: But you cannot. He is the God of man; and his compas sion is equal for the red man and the white. This earth is precious to Him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its Creator. The whites too shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Continue to contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste. But in your perishing you will shine brightly, fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man. That destiny is a mystery to us, for we do not understand when the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses are tamed, and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires. Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone. And what is it to say good-bye to the swift pony and the hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival. So we will consider your offer to buy the land. If we agree, it will be to secure the reservation you have promised. There perhaps, we may live out our brief days as we wish. When the last red man has vanished from the earth, and his memory is only a shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, these shores and forests will still hold the spirits of my people. For they love this earth as a newborn loves its mother's heartbeat. So, if we sell our land, love it as we've loved it. Care for it as we've cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you take it. And preserve it for your children, and love it....as God loves us all. One thing we know, Our God is the same God. This earth is precious to Him. Even the white man cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may he brothers after all. We shall see... Hamburgers Hot Dogs •Charcoal •Potato Salad •Steaks •Beer •Corn on the Cob •Chips 586-8221 Sylva, NC
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Object’s are ‘parent’ level descriptions to ‘children’ items, (e.g. a book with pages).