I know you are, but what am I?

Editor,
Highlighting the spelling errors in a readerās letter just because the letter is critical of The Metropolitan is a sleazy trick. Sleazy and childish.
It is especially disgraceful in a rag as prone to spelling and style errors as yours.
Grow up, boys and girls!

Charles Everitt
Metro student

Experience provokes thought, change

Editor,
I would like to share a thought provoking experience I had with you and your readers.

I watched a man while I sat in front of my homework in the science building lounge. I had seen him grab a half empty bag of chips out of the trash can outside and he came in to eat them. After he ate a few chips, he began to get on his hands and knees to look for any dropped change under the vending machines. All the while, he cursed to himself in a muffled voice. His search unsuccessful, he sat back down to eat his chips.  He never bothered anyone for money, food, or anything.

As I sat there watching his sad display, I kept thinking that I should give him some money or something. I began to search through my ćmoney spotsä and discovered that I had a twenty dollar bill, a ten dollar bill, a five dollar bill, and about $1.70 in change.  I had hoped I had a couple of dollar bills I could give him because I didnāt want to give him too much. I took the $1.70 in change to the man and said, ćHere, do you want to get yourself some food?ä He simply replied, ćYeahä as he put his hand out for the small amount of change. He finished his chips and proceeded to lay the change out on the table. He bought two things from the vending machine and mumbled his way out the door.

As I looked around the room after he left, I noticed all the trash that had been carelessly left on the tables. Then I noticed that the man whom I had given so little to, had thoughtfully thrown his empty chip bag away. At this moment I felt an extreme sadness.  I was very disappointed that I hadnāt done more for him. I should have, at the very least, given him my twenty. He made me wish that I could fix everything, but I canāt.  I can only make tiny contributions to a sad and awful life.

I wish someone like me would win a huge lottery. Someone who would help people with his/her winnings. Like buying that man a good meal everyday or paying for a bone marrow transplant that a single mother with leukemia needs. This is what I would do if I won the lottery, but I donāt even play the lottery because I never win at anything. I can only make tiny contributions to my life as well.

Christina Gabe
Metro student

A little something I swore Iād never do

Readers,

As lame and probably inappropriate as it is to do this, Iām left with little choice. You see, this space is reserved for student letters. Well, we donāt have one to go here, so Iām going to write one.

Part of it is to you. Part of it is to other people.

First, for you. Thanks to all four of you who have faithfully read this newspaper this year. We put it out, warts and all, for you. The numerous mistakes weāve made havenāt been due to a lack of effort. No, we tried hard to make those mistakes.

If sappy thank-yous annoy you, stop reading now.

Kate Lutrey, thanks for guidance, being a friend and most of all for putting up with my moods. In addition to everything else. And all the stuff that wonāt fit here.

Chris Mancuso, thanks for the Powerbook, the computer knowledge and for kicking my ass regularly in racquetball. And all the copy editing help, advice, etc.

Donnita. Thanks for perspective on perspective, for protecting the staff and for frostbite thanks to your love of air conditioning in the winter.

Staff, thanks for taking my abuse, abusing me and (most of you) for showing up each week to put out the fishwrap.

Jëssë Stëphënsön, you took perhaps the most abuse and worked harder than anyone. Thanks.

Perry Swanson, you will be the man this year. Unless the New York Times snaps you up first. Thanks, for everything you did for the paper and for me (Nissan).

BEC, what can I say. You are gifted, and if you donāt wind up following Barry White around the country, I imagine Iāll read your name in Rolling Stone or something. Thanks.

Longhair, the best sports editor this paper has ever seen. Stay in school forever so I donāt have to compete with you for a job. And if you get a job, buy me a bike, biootch.

Flomzone. You know you da man, brotha. Couldnāt have done any of this without you. When you blow up like the Godfatha, donāt forget me. Money Plays Eight, straight.

Sparks. Much love. You are the best photog on the planet and the coolest woman alive. Go get a damn job.
Savvas. Nothing I want to say to you can be printed here. Thanks, Webmaster.

Brian, Webmaster Jr. thanks and donāt hit me with any racquetballs.

Jane, if you actually read this, thanks for all the knowledge, the late Tuesday conversations and for patiently trying to help me learn to write.

Claudia, you know why, and for not quitting.

Richard Chapman, J.P. McLaughlin, Bill Vaile, Jay Brodell, Christopher Broderick, Deb Frazier and the Journalism Department ÷ thanks.

And, finally, thanks to the Board of Publications.

If I forgot anyone, thanks for not being offended, and thanks for whatever it is you did.

÷ Michael BeDan
FORMER Metro student