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(01/28/98 10:00am)
and Edward Sherwin College Republicans and College Democrats gathered at Houston Hall last night to watch President Clinton report to Congress on the State of the Union, joining what is believed to be the largest television audience of Clinton's career. But Clinton's 72-minute long speech did not address the issue foremost on the minds of most Americans -- allegations that he perjured himself in a deposition about a possible relationship with 24-year-old former White House intern Monica Lewinsky. The specter of presidential improprieties hung over the evening's proceedings. Lewinsky's attorney, William Ginsburg, indicated yesterday that his client will strike a plea bargain, receiving immunity in exchange for an account of her relationship with the president. Reaction to the charges among members of College Republicans and College Democrats was divided. "All of the allegations seem to point in one direction," said College sophomore Patrick Ruffini, a Republican. "He wouldn't be effective as president anymore." But Democrats saw the issue differently. "I don't know the merits of the sexual misconduct case, and I don't think the American people give a damn," said Wharton junior and College Democrats Political Director David Prager. "We didn't elect him as the most sexually prudent person." Despite the allegations -- which, if true, could jeopardize Clinton's presidency -- those gathered under the Capitol's dome rose with a roar upon hearing the traditional invocation, "Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States." Commentators were quick to note that the applause was as much for the office as for the man. "These are good times for America," Clinton declared, calling for legislation on issues including new teachers, new schools and application of any budget surplus to shore up Social Security. The president also called for a raise in the minimum wage, new anti-teen smoking legislation and a patient's bill of rights. "Medical decisions ought to be made by medical doctors," Clinton said. While Democrats were elated by the president's newfound commitment to social legislation, Republican leaders challenged the President's agenda. Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott, R-Miss., delivered the Republican rebuttal. He termed many of the new programs inconsistent with the president's promise to submit a balanced budget in 1999, three years ahead of schedule. The evening's greatest applause greeted Clinton's threat to Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein. "We are determined to deny you the capacity to use [weapons of mass destruction] again," the president said. At Houston Hall, student reaction focused on the allegations, not Clinton's proposals. "I think it would be more tasteful on his part to resign if it's proved he lied to the American people," said College sophomore Lisa Marshall. But Penn Democrats were slower to condemn Clinton. "This is a vast conspiracy against Clinton by [Whitewater Special Prosecutor] Kenneth Starr and his Republican cronies," College senior Utpal Inamdar said. "They're jealous because Clinton turned the economy around." Earlier in the day, First Lady Hillary Clinton blasted Starr, calling him "a politically motivated prosecutor" on NBC's Today show. Starr, who deposed the President's personal secretary yesterday as part of his continuing investigation, termed Mrs. Clinton's allegations "nonsense," and defended the expansion of his Whitewater investigation into the Lewinsky scandal.
(11/26/97 10:00am)
In a sport ruled by youth, Cliff Bayer's success is still uncommon. For his accomplishments throughout the 1996-97 season, the United States Fencing Association named 20-year-old Bayer, a sophomore at Penn, Male Athlete of the Year. Bayer's accomplishments both at college and international level were the basis of the honor. Fueling his success were Bayer's international success and his title as the 1997 NCAA foil champion. He has represented the United States at multiple international events, including the 1996 Olympic Games and the 1997 World Championships, where he became the first US male foil to earn a medal, a bronze, in the Under-20 Championships. Coming off such a successful season, both coach and fencer agree that there is always more. "[Bayer] had a couple of bouts that got away last year," Quakers coach David Micahnik said. "He was not totally undefeated. There is always more." "Of course, I would love to win the NCAA again this year," Bayer said. "It is a very prestigious title for the myself and the school. For myself, I would like to train and keep going until the Olympics in 2000, that is really the pinnacle for all fencers. And hopefully win a medal, that is the greatest achievement that anyone can really do." Bayer, the "Ace of Trumps" in Micahnik's terms, lives up to the title not only on the strip of competition, but also during practices. Bayer takes his sport seriously, leading his own practice and training schedule. But Bayer is still a team player, drawing off the skills of his teammates. "He gains a lot of bout experience from his teammates," Micahnik said. "If people cannot hit you, you aren't getting a push. But his teammates are pushing him; they are hitting him." In the U.S., fencing is a sport dominated by the young, with men and women in their early 20s and late teens leading the way. One of Bayer's most impressive achievements was his place on the 1996 U.S. Olympic foil team in Atlanta. "The Olympics are a very stressful tournament, it is very quick, it is very fast and there is really not much time to breathe," Bayer said. "For fencing, the Olympics are really the pinnacle of everything." Bayer is hoping his appearance in Atlanta can be used to his advantage if he makes the 2000 Sydney team. "The most important thing in my opinion is the experience," Bayer said. "When you go out to a stadium where hundreds, or maybe thousands, of people are screaming to you by name for fencing, it is really unlike most other tournaments. By going through that experience, you learn to block it out and really just concentrate on the task ahead of you." But even at such a high level of competition as the Olympics, the U.S. was represented by two college students and recent high school grad Bayer. "I think that fencing is starting to catch on and enter the media more than it did 10 years ago," Bayer said. "People are starting to learn about it more and starting to get an idea of what it is about, and I think that the younger generation has the responsibility to keep that up." "It is a relatively recent sport," Micahnik said. "The idea is to start with little 10-year-z, that way by the time they are teenagers they have the experience. Fencers do not usually peak in their teens though; they peak in their early 20s." This gives Bayer time for future success in college, but more importantly, at the international and Olympic level. But in a sport that is ruled by the young, who knows how many 15-years-olds are out there that in three years to challenge Bayer.
(10/10/97 9:00am)
Researchers at the University's Medical Center are testing a new computer imaging system that could lead to earlier and more accurate detections of female breast cancer. The American Cancer Society recommends that women as young as 40 receive annual or biannual mammograms. But problems with current mammography technology often lead to misdiagnoses. More than 180,000 new cases of breast cancer will be diagnosed this year, according to the ACS. The disease is expected to kill almost 45,000 women in 1997. The new digital technology captures higher resolution images of the breast than conventional a mammogram. The improved resolution allows radiologists to zoom in and out of images, highlighting questionable regions in the breast to examine them more closely. "You can hone in on certain aspects of the breast," explained Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania radiologist Emily Conant, who has been using the new system since the beginning of last month. Conant, who heads HUP's Breast Imaging Section, added that "the real question here is what is the necessary resolution for diagnosis." Conventional mammograms provide images with resolutions of up to 50 millimeters. Digital mammography increases resolution to between 50 and 100 microns, a high level of detail beyond the capacities of most computer monitors. The new technology uses a filmless system that stores images on a computer or magnetic tape, allowing them to be sent over the Internet. Digital storage also lessens the chance of losing the images and having to replace them, which would require patients to go through another dose of radiation. "Patients are very comfortable with the machine because it doesn't look any different," Conant said. "It's really the same technique that they're used to." The procedure involves placing the breast on a small platform. The breast is compressed, so less radiation is required to reach its center. Then, a camera rotates around the platform, taking several pictures at different angles. The difference in digital mammography is a small, black box placed underneath the platform, which generates the higher resolution images. Future applications of digital mammography could include three-dimensional renderings of the breast and computer-aided diagnoses. While the initial images obtained with the new technology appear to be more accurate than those from conventional mammograms, Conant stressed that the technology is still in the clinical trial stage. "Within five years, this will be the state of the art at bigger institutions," she said. "It will be easier to install as the technology becomes less expensive." But before the device gains widespread use, it is important "to make sure that it is at least as good as film screen mammography at detecting breast cancer," according to Harvard Radiologist Carol Hulka, who worked in Massachussettes General Hospital's Radiology Department when it conducted early clinical trials in digital mammography. Conant added that women should begin frequent self-examinations in late teens and early twenties, since mammography has not yet proved itself as an absolute diagnosis.
(09/29/97 9:00am)
The Sunset Grill at 37th and Chestnut streets was host to a party Friday night sponsored by Chi Omega -- but this wasn't any ordinary night of Dionysian revelry. The party, "Dance for Dance," benefited the Emily R. Sachs Memorial Fund, named after the Penn student and Chi Omega sister who died shortly after her freshman year in 1995. Sachs, diagnosed with asthma at the age 2, was a pre-med student and an accomplished lyrical ballet dancer. She died from asthma complications a few weeks after her freshman year ended. A member of Arts House Dance during her first year at Penn, Sachs was named Miss Dance Pennsylvania in 1992 and Miss Dance New York in 1994. She garnered several other awards and titles during her career as a dancer. Sachs' parents established the fund the summer after her death. It is slated to pay for performing arts space in the Perelman Quad, above the Irvine Auditorium stage. College senior Marla Snyder, a good friend and member of Sachs' pledge class, remembered the petite ballerina as "the No. 1 dancer in the world." "I went to watch her give up her crown [as Miss Teen Dance] in New York City in 1995," Snyder said. "In her speech, she thanked Penn for giving her the best year of her life. She loved this place." She added that Friday's party was extremely successful in raising money for the fund. It attracted a crowd of more than 700 people and raised approximately $3,661 -- double the profits from previous years. Arts House Dance performers were also on hand to pay tribute to Sachs in a floor show. "This means the most to our class graduating," Snyder said. "Everyone affected two years ago was just as affected today." Snyder added that the party was also therapeutic, giving people the chance to "get together and have fun and dance" in memory of Sachs. The goal of the fund is to reach the $100,000 mark, the cost of the future Perelman space, within five years. With the money raised at this year's Chi Omega party, the goal is well in sight -- the fund has raised nearly $85,000 to date. In addition to funds raised by the sorority, individual friends and family have also made donations to the fund. College senior Amy Siegel, an executive member of Chi Omega, described Sachs as "one of the nicest people" and noted the shock that followed her untimely death. "She was a part of my good memories," said Siegel, stressing the importance of funds which will provide much-needed performance arts space on campus. College senior Nicole Totah, a member of Arts House Dance, added that Sachs was "an inspiration" whose expertise and grace was imitated by other dancers.
(09/17/97 9:00am)
From Michael Pereira's "Vox," Fall '97 From Michael Pereira's "Vox," Fall '97Granted, the media's treatment of police has been downright criminal. The day-to-day heroics of many police pass without notice while an instant of corruption explodes into a front-page scandal. Mythologies of police have hardened into stereotypes. But representations of police are not the product of media alone. Here at Penn, for instance, University Police are a visible presence -- part of our daily lives. You can find them whizzing by on bicycles, enjoying a bracing cup at Bucks County Coffee or standing like statues along Locust Walk. In short, you can find University Police at any reasonable hour of the day, wherever there are big, secure crowds. Penn has even augmented the size of its force in the wake of last fall's dying optimism. Thus, the University Police can now be called Pennsylvania's third-largest force -- with a real, hard-boiled Philly P.I. heading the detective unit. Besides police, we will have Spectaguard, Public Safety's Special Services and Victim Support units and Sensormatic Electronics Corporation all working toward public safety from a $2.5 million headquarters on Chestnut Street. They plan to fight crime in a 21st century way, with "crime mapping and photo imaging" and 400 Gs worth of underground wiring. This is a force to be reckoned with -- a force majeure -- that should inspire fear in even the most callous criminals! Yet University Police are still perceived as small and ineffective. Crime persists, slowly but steadily approaching last fall's pandemic proportions. Students still feel afraid rather than at home around Penn's campus and applications are down as a result. The reputation of this academic corporation is in jeopardy! So Penn's Public Safety is receiving a makeover -- courtesy of administration and other pot-bellied power-brokers -- plucking the old impotent image and replacing it with a new foundation of competence. In the meantime, University Police are working to promote a notion of safety with some smaller-scale initiatives of their own, and, like the administration, confusing problems and priorities. I had the pleasure to witness one of their misdirected moral ambushes first-hand about two weeks ago. There was a small soiree near my 41st Street residence -- lively, yet self-contained and redolent of teen spirit. Pop music played at low volume and perhaps there was some watery beer splashing around in the backyard. I think I was enjoying a thermos of martini on my front porch. Across the way, my neighbors -- a bluff and amiable group of post-seniors -- sipped languidly from a split six-pack. Somewhere around 2 a.m., a single-file motorcade of University Police arrived to terminate the party? terminate, it seemed, with extreme prejudice. All festivities slowed to a standstill: the music stopped, of course, and all gazes were trained on the men and women in blue. We looked at them, they looked at us, and nobody knew quite what to do. Then somebody took a sip from something. That was their cue, their opportunity to make an example. The police yelled something, looked at one another and exchanged rectangular salutes, then charged the porch next door. Some 10 police slapped 'cuffs on one victim with a show of violence that seemed choreographed in its excess. They then threw him in the sinners' sedan and whisked him downtown for bright lights and the third degree. According to the various parties involved, this practice of aborting events before their natural conclusion is enforced with students' safety in mind. The thinking goes: if we break up the party promptly at 2 a.m. then everybody will leave holding hands and make it home in one piece. The flaws in this argument, however, are painfully obvious. While so many police were engaged in their charade, there might have been a mugging in progress some blocks down, or a rape, theft petty or large. Who knows? But instead, the energies of University Police were tied up in an on-going campaign not to protect students, but to discipline them and circumscribe their personal space. The aim of their architecture is to contain the student body in a manageable area, to possess our recreation, in short, to make us docile. Need it be added: this would make their job easier? Given: University Police have misplaced their priorities, even if their intentions are laudable (and this too is uncertain). Crime has tarnished their reputation, yet students seem to be the casualty of their scramble for good PR. As the incident on 41st Street illustrates, University Police are confusing real enemies with imaginary adversaries. Contrary to their intentions, the scenario they staged lacked any pedagogic value. Instead of teaching students to walk home in groups, to leave parties at a reasonable hour, to drink responsibly if at all, the message of the University Police came across garbled and inverted. If anything, the incident only obscured the fine line between good and bad, or between confused authority and crime run amok. In a word, it shored up those distorted stereotypes of police which waste energy and undermine relations with the public. University Police that night sacrificed the big picture to the fine print, posing as physicians while their basic effect was to mix poisons. They engendered antagonisms that benefit nobody, seemed evil when they might have meant well? and caused everyone present to forget that one day the University Police may be the best friends you have at Penn.
(08/29/97 9:00am)
Penn basketball players tried, with mixed success, to stay sharp by playing in summer leagues. During a summer busy with lifting, shooting and playing pick-up games against teammates, area summer leagues provided the only opportunities for the Penn men's basketball team members to compete in organized games. "You put uniforms on and there are referees and you like to get out there and be competitive and do your best," said Matt Langel, the Penn sophomore guard. Summer leagues give players experience in a team environment under game conditions that involve the shot clock, three-point line and time-and-score situations. They also include college players who are able to test each other. "I wanted to play in Sonny Hill (local) league because the competition is some of the best in the area," Quakers center Geoff Owens said. Under NCAA regulations, college players can compete in just one summer league, and one summer league team can have only a single player from each college's team. This rule ensures that college teams do not, in effect, practice against other teams in an organized situation. The Sonny Hill Community Involvement Basketball League is the league in which most of the Penn players from this area compete because the competition in it is widely regarded as the best in the area. Among the top Quakers expected to contribute this year who played in that league are Michael Jordan, Langel, George Mboya, Owens, Paul Romanczuk and Jed Ryan. Another local summer league is the Media Summer Basketball League. There are subtle differences between the two leagues. While the Sonny Hill League has a division open to just collegians, the Media League is a summer league open to players who range from teens to men well out of college. According to senior Garett Kreitz, who is one of two Quakers to play in the Media League (the other being Kreitz's classmate Jeff Goldstein), the older players can be problematic -- not because of their skills but because of their willingness to do anything to win an otherwise meaningless summer league game. "You're taking a chance [by playing in the Media League]. There are some guys who don't care what they do to you," Kreitz said. Besides the chance to play in an organized environment, most of the Penn players cited the strong competition as their main reason for playing in one of the two leagues. Penn coach Fran Dunphy noted that while the summer leagues do have value, they are not essential to a player's improvement. "I don't think you're going to get appreciably better playing 10 games in the summer," Dunphy said. "You get better by playing together after summer school, summer jobs, whatever keeps these guys around during the summer time ? that's how you get better. So it's not a huge emphasis that we put on the summer leagues. It's more to keep sharp in terms of game conditions." One shortcoming that develops on numerous summer league teams is selfishness. Evidence of this was present one night when Jordan's Camille Cosby team faced Ryan's Jurin Distributing team. Repeatedly, Ryan was open for easy jumpers, but was denied the ball. Jordan's team, despite coach Michael Blackshear's pleas, constantly refused to swing the ball around the perimeter to find the open shot. "There's a lot of selfishness that goes on," Jordan said. Another aspect of the summer league games that prevents a player from improving significantly is the low intensity level of the games, labeled "pretty laid back" by Langel. Though the players want to win, the closeness with teammates and the sense of urgency is not present like in February and March. Part of the reason is the discrepancy between teams' seriousness. While Owens' team tried to practice once a week, the coach of Langel's team barely made it to his games. Sometimes teams were nearly unable to field five players. When they did show up, players found it helpful to play against and with players they will see in the regular season. "It's real good for me to play with and against some of these guys that I haven't seen as much as, say Michael [Jordan], who knows about every player in the city," Langel said. "You get a better feel of what they can do and what kind of player they are." Though the benefits were limited, players used the summer leagues to improve specific areas of their games. "I'm working on my penetrating and my defense," Kreitz said. Occasionally, the games can also be used as a tool to experiment with a new move. "This is the time when you really want to try and work on it because when you come to the season you really want to have it almost perfect," said Owens, who focused on a more effective hook shot. "I'm going to work on it now and use it in the games now so when it comes to the season, I'll be comfortable with it," For most of the Quakers, improvement comes more effectively from working out with others on the Penn team and from strong competition. Jordan and Owens have been working out at the Gustein Lake Recreation Center with future NBA players and former Big 5 players. Players have to balance a work or school schedule with workouts. Dunphy noted that while rest is very important, players can't afford to take off too much time while trying to get better. "In this day and age, there's not much of an offseason," Dunphy said. Dunphy himself was sidelined until July 8, the day in which college coaches are able to begin observing their players and recruiting prospective student-athletes. The mid-summer evaluation helps players focus on how much they are improving. The Quakers worked out regularly in the Palestra and the varsity weightroom. They continued the cycles of lifting and conditioning to which they had grown accustomed. They worked on their personal weaknesses individually and also play pick-up games against themselves and other local schools. And once or twice a week, they tried to improve a little in their summer league games.
(06/26/97 9:00am)
Pulsating car stereos and rummaged-through litter aside, the 4000 block of Baltimore Avenue becomes Marlboro country at sunset. I retire to this charming neighborhood after an arduous day of working in a downtown high rise's arctic corridors. The rosy light glimmers through the trees. The air, heady with malt liquor and the onion-garlic-deep-fried magnificence of the nearby double bypass -- Billybob's and Allegro restaurants -- is cozy and inviting. More often than not, my retreat to the porch includes a cup of coffee or on longer days, a beer, and a cigarette. Between the cushions of the shabby couch on our porch lie my Parliament lights -- soon to be labeled "nicotine delivery devices"-- that constantly lure me into turning into one of the notorious 3,000. News sources say that 3,000 American teens become "regular smokers," a status gained by smoking at least once a day for an entire month. I myself have yet to enter these ranks. My inner pessimist, however, knows it's only a matter of time before I join my comrades and fold under the pressure of Big Tobacco. After all, what strength can I claim when I'm constantly exposed to such powerful imagery as the tanned, carefree couple savoring their Parliaments on the billboard beach just outside my window? Or the seductive copper-haired glamour-puss clutching her martini and a Kamel Red inside my latest issue of Details. Or, most alluring of all, that suave cartoon camel named "Joe," who incidentally also nurses a large bottle of alcohol? But harbor that cynicism no longer, America! Soon, unless you subscribe to Playboy or Hustler, in which case the Surgeon General has apparently decided you're corrupted beyond repair, you'll no longer be tempted by those glossy ads. In fact, every time you buy a pack, not only will it cost an average of three bucks -- you'll be reminded in half-inch-high letters that "Cigarettes Can Kill You." This, along with $368.5 billion and a surrender to federal regulation, is Treacherous Tobacco's indemnity for annually robbing the nation of a collective "four million years of life," according to social historian Richard Kruger. Neither side is entirely happy with the deal, which was announced Friday. But neither side is particularly indignant. Some think that $370 billion is too low a cap for the tobacco companies' bill -- which means its losses will be hefty but predictable, guarded against any more groups of sullied lungs ganging up in class-action suits against the business. Tobacco, predictably, resents regulation of its additive partners in cigarettes. But the settlement satisfies both sides, because "any decent person wants both sides to lose," as Time magazine noted. Tobacco, which naturally contains an extremely addictive substance, has taken the lives of millions -- directly and indirectly. That said, we've known this for more than thirty years. It's been banned from television and kids under 18. Warnings are plastered on every box. Perhaps it's a testament to America's current upbeat state that Clinton took on the tobacco companies. The economy is excellent. People are employed and thus working hard and making more. In their search for relaxation, Americans often turn to vices and old taboos, such as martinis and microbrews, cappuccinos and, doubtless, Marlboros. Suddenly, the number of smokers, after a years-long decline, is slowly rising. Although one may argue that there's little else for Clinton to approach politically, in an economy thriving on austerity and deregulation, a government whose job is to regulate has to find something. Tobacco is arguably, and somewhat ironically, the most innocuous thing for him to approach right now. And by promising to punish the industry further if teenage smoking doesn't decrease, the pressure is slight, but there. The settlement will invariably decrease smoking to an extent -- anyone who's ever seen a supply-demand curve knows that a higher price means lower demand. So it will be considered a success. But it won't erase smoking any more than Prohibition ended alcohol consumption. The lure of a cigarette is undeniable and embedded in our culture. While the advertisements from big tobacco companies such as Philip Morris and RJR Nabisco are given an added dose of exposure because of the current tobacco hype, they are far less memorable than the free press cigarettes get in movies, on television and in their supposed basis, reality. When it comes to censorship, reality is amazingly elusive. Pardon me while I escape it with a cup of coffee. And perhaps a nicotine-carrying device.
(06/12/97 9:00am)
To the Editor: However, the staff seemed to experience this event as an entertaining spectacle and proceeded to gawk and stare the entire evening, behaving most unprofessionally. They seemed to have adopted a "hands-off" approach to customer service, spending most of their time in the kitchen away from the guests. In spite of the rude treatment, the youth enjoyed themselves. But we then experienced further conflict when we attempted to leave the Penn Tower garage. The night manager would not honor our previous agreement for discounted parking, nor would he phone his colleague with whom we had initially contracted. We pleaded with the manager to understand that these were teens with limited income and that we had made this arrangement prior to the event (this was confirmed the following business day). The manager treated the youths and adults in a de-humanizing, condescending manner and refused to assist us. I was embarrassed to be associated with Penn at that moment and could not believe the kind of treatment that our multiracial, multigenerational group experienced. When one of our members challenged the staff member on his homophobia, another staff member came to his assistance and basically told us that "you people always say that." Come on! I was not the only alumnus at the event and the high school students in attendance did not come away with a favorable image of my alma mater. I ask that you print this so that others will be aware that the Penn Tower has a lot of work to do and that the University will only suffer if this type of maltreatment is allowed to continue. Daren Wade College '88 Social Work '94 An illegal 'tradition' To the Editor: I know that it must be hard to gather enough material for The Summer Pennsylvanian, but Randi Rothberg's column ("Party-financing plan hurts tradition," SP, 6/5/97) was stooping pretty low, even for the DP. Way to say nothing at all, Randi. Next time try including some correct information in what you write, like the fact that there is no "law forbidding fraternity brothers from charging admission to their parties." They are called zoning laws and they exist everywhere. There is a difference between residential and commercial zoning: you can't conduct commercial activities in a residential zone. Those parties are essentially re-selling beer (against the University's "bring-your-own beer" policy and the state drinking age) as any bar does, but the bar has to be in a commercial zone (and must have permits to sell it). So, why exactly should the University continue to condone such flouting of laws? To uphold tradition? Forget it. Alex Kuhner College '98
(05/16/97 9:00am)
A $145,000 grant from a group of New Jersey teenagers will help the University's Medical Center search for a cure for Progressive Osseous Heteroplasia (POH) -- a debilitating bone disease that primarily affects children. It is the first time that teenagers are funding major medical research on a genetic disease. The donation came about the New Jersey Association of Student Councils decided last year to raise money for the Ian Foundation, a non-profit organization established by a New Jersey family to raise money for POH research. Penn Orthopedic Surgery Professor Frederick Kaplan explained that the Ian Foundation grant will allow him to increase his research into the disease. "This grant will allow us to bring together a team of scientists for at least three years to begin to focus attention on the molecular cause of this disease and the genetic switch that is abnormally turned on in these children," he said. The NJASC decided to donate money to the Ian Foundation after listening to Sandra Wheeler and her 7-year-old son Ian, who suffers from POH, discuss the rare disorder. In 1994, Ian Wheeler became the first young patient to be diagnosed with POH. The determination was made by Penn's Medical Center after the Wheelers had spent three years trying to find the cause of Ian's disease. Following the diagnosis, Sandra Wheeler created the Ian Foundation to raise money for the Progressive Osseous Heteroplasia Association -- an Illinois-based organization she co-founded with another family to find a cure for POH. She explained that Ian has suffered from the disease since birth, which has affected his left leg and right foot, leaving him unable to walk without a limp or take part in many ordinary, childhood activities. But Sandra Wheeler stressed that her son is "very active' and an "all-boy kind of kid" who longs to do things like ride a bike with his friends. Wheeler said she tried to publicize the disease and support groups that are looking for a cure because she is worried that "the disease is going to get worse and I don't know what's going to happen by the time [Ian's] a teenager." After the Wheelers convinced the NJASC to donate money to the Ian Foundation, Kaplan said that the organization spent over a year raising money for the donation through activities like bake sales, basketball games, car washes, plays and senior proms. The group did so well that it surpassed its original goal of $120,000. Wheeler described the New Jersey students as "excellent" and 'remarkable," noting that the donation proves that "there's really a bunch of great young adults" in the world today. The students explained that they hope their decision to donate money to the foundation will help find a cure and help children. "In this little boy, in this newly discovered disease, we saw an opportunity to make a difference," high school senior and NJASC State Charity Representative Rachel Elkinson said in a Penn Health System press release. Elkinson spearheaded the effort among New Jersey middle- and high-schools along with NJASC President and incoming Penn student Matt Vamvakis. The students were particularly impressed by Kaplan's explanation of the disease, according to Medical Center spokesperson Harriet Levy. "The children look normal at birth with the exception of Rice Krispy-like particles of bones in their skin, often scattered throughout the body," he said. "As the children develop, the normal working structures of the skeletal system get sabotaged by these webs and vines of bone that strangle muscles, envelop the nerves and blood vessels, and ruin the normal working of the skeletal system." Kaplan added that he wants to find a cure because "children are catastrophically affected by this, and whenever a child is affected by something you have to care about it, and if we can learn what the genetic mutation is and why these children form extra bone, we can use that information in much more common conditions when bone forms where it's not supposed to." And although only 24 people in the world have been diagnosed with POH, Kaplan hopes that his team will be able to help find a cure for other bone diseases.
(04/24/97 9:00am)
In a health care environment characterized by a huge variety of patient needs and a demand for diverse services, the University must train future health care providers on how to best treat patients using limited resources. To accomplish this seemingly impossible task, the School of Nursing sought to establish a holistic approach to patient care and found an answer in the Penn Nursing Network. Encompassing eight practices and a number of other services, PNN fits the needs of a variety of patient types -- from poor urban children to the elderly -- and uses the skills of nurse-practitioners to treat patients who otherwise might not seek medical help. Beyond improving health in the community, PNN also fulfills one of the Nursing School's key missions -- to take advantage of research opportunities in teaching students how to be excellent health care providers. "We have an opportunity not only to serve our local community by providing quality health care to special populations that are really underserved, but also to be able to have the opportunity to develop and test innovative practice models that will likely have implications for public policy for the changes in the health care system that need to happen in the next ten years or so," PNN Director of Academic Nursing Practices Lois Evans said. Unlike a traditional doctor's office, the PNN centers are staffed primarily by nurse-practitioners. According to Evans, patients feel more comfortable around nurses than they do around doctors, and the comfort level affects care. Pilot data from one study indicates that patients are more willing to visit nurse-practitioners, talk to nurses more and require fewer emergency room visits when regularly treated by nurses in a system like PNN. Evans noted that of PNN's operations, two best represent the Nursing School's goals and serve as the "flagship practices" -- the Health Annex and the Collaborative Assessment and Rehabilitation for Elders, or CARE, Program. The Health Annex, located on the grounds of the Francis J. Myers Recreation Center, is actually a collaboration between the Nursing School and the Philadelphia Department of Recreation. The center caters to a primarily low- to middle-income neighborhood, many of whose residents are jobless or can be characterized as "working poor" and lack insurance. The Annex, therefore, encompasses a tremendous outreach program that educates children, parents and the elderly in locations ranging from schools to churches. In an effort to make the center accessible, the Annex was designed to include a community room for meetings and educational programs. Practicing holistic medicine in this community also means addressing ailments and issues that are often not strictly physical. "We kind of blend and blur the boundaries between the mental and the physical so patients can be assessed on both their mental health and their physical health," Health Annex Practice Director Claire Washington said. To this end, the Annex includes a mental health room and a women's room so that patients' needs can be fully addressed and each person can "be part of the team for your treatment? [and] help make the necessary lifestyle changes." The Health Annex also follows through on another major theme of the Nursing School -- focus on prevention instead of simply treatment. "Education and prevention: that is our message in the community," outreach specialist Lorraine Thomas said. And like all Nursing School ventures, the Health Annex offers "a huge role for students," Washington said. Because the center's work is interdisciplinary, students from a variety of specialties have worked at the Annex, demonstrating the Nursing School's emphasis on research, education and practice. Just as the Health Annex uses specialists from a variety of fields to treat patients, the CARE Program offers the elderly "one-stop shopping" for their health care needs. CARE helps older West Philadelphia residents by providing an alternative to a nursing home. With family, occupational, physical and speech therapists, as well as a geropsychiatric nurse and a physician on staff, the program provides a wide range of care. Washington described the CARE philosophy as "looking at the patient as a whole and looking at other factors beside physical characteristics and symptoms" -- much as the Health Annex does. Pointing to research showing that older patients do better in outpatient facilities than in nursing homes, CARE leaders say the program provides an ideal setting for both nursing research and patient treatment. And as part of the Nursing School, CARE involves students in its everyday operations. "For me this has been the best clinical experience that I've gotten," Nursing sophomore Kelly Cornelisse said. PNN programs -- which provided an educational opportunity for 300 undergraduates and graduates last year alone -- have included students from many of the University's schools in an effort to bring together all of the aspects of health care. In addition to the Health Annex and the CARE Program, PNN includes midwifery programs, a continence program, a gerontologic consultation service and community-based health services for women and teens. This fall, PNN will open the Living Independently For Elders facility, serving elderly patients who choose to live in their homes instead of moving to nursing homes. LIFE will be PNN's biggest project thus far, and Evans expects that a second site will open within a few years. PNN signifies the importance of the community to the Nursing School. The two have a symbiotic relationship -- while the school needs the community in order to conduct research and make advances in health care, the surrounding neighborhoods have received better health care tailored to their needs.
(04/09/97 9:00am)
The Associated Press A Nation of Islam march that city leaders feared could spark a riot in a racially tense neighborhood was canceled yesterday as officials announced plans for Minister Louis Farrakhan to speak at a citywide interfaith rally next week, instead. Local Nation of Islam leaders, complaining last month that police were slow to make arrests after a group of white men beat a black family, had scheduled a 5,000-man march through the city's Grays Ferry section for next Monday. Whites in Grays Ferry reacted angrily to those plans. At separate news conferences yesterday, top city officials and the head of the local Nation of Islam said Farrakhan, the group's charismatic national leader, agreed to address an anti-racism rally that men and women of all faiths and races would be welcome to attend. It is scheduled for Monday morning, the same time the march was to have been held. "This is a successful conclusion that averts a potential disastrous consequence for the city," said Mayor Ed Rendell, who wrote to Farrakhan on Friday proposing the idea of a rally at a large city arena as an alternative to the Grays Ferry march. The exact site had not been determined. Rendell, who is white and Jewish, and City Council President John Street, who is black, had been speaking to white and black residents of the economically distressed neighborhood and urging the Nation of Islam to reconsider its plans. Talks with local leaders produced the idea for Rendell to write to Farrakhan with an offer to speak, the mayor said. "We hammered home the point that there was great risk involved," said Rendell, who never spoke directly with Farrakhan. The decision to cancel the march in favor of the rally was Farrakhan's, said Minister Rodney Muhammad of Muhammad's Mosque of Islam No. 12 here. Farrakhan had sent his Chicago staff to assess the situation in Grays Ferry. "The Nation of Islam is a peaceful community," he said. Muhammad said the Nation of Islam would continue to protect the black family that was beaten in "a community plagued with racist thought," but that the circumstances called for a different course of action. "Grays Ferry is not isolated when it comes to racism," Muhammad said, sitting alongside Annette Williams, the black woman beaten with her teen-age son and nephew. "This is bigger than Rodney Muhammad. It's bigger than Grays Ferry. It's bigger than Philadelphia." Busloads of people from other cities will attend, he said. In his letter to Farrakhan, Rendell expressed confidence that a march could be disciplined and positive. He said, however, that he feared an incident started by a non-Muslim marcher, an onlooker or a troublemaking outsider could trigger a riot. Such a riot would have "disastrous consequences" for "the good people of Grays Ferry, who far, far outnumber the bad ones," and for the city, which is hosting the Presidents' Summit on National Service in two weeks, and for the Nation of Islam, which would be wrongly blamed, Rendell said. The city also committed to enhancing housing, recreation, police and other services in Grays Ferry, Street said. Grays Ferry West Community Action, a black group, scheduled a news conference for today to discuss its plans to proceed with a community march. Rendell and Street said the city would be prepared for that. Officials never were concerned over local marchers, but had been anxious about thousands of "outsiders" converging on the neighborhood, Street said. The Rev. Steven Avinger Sr. of the predominantly black Greater St. Matthew Baptist Church and co-chairman of a Grays Ferry Catholic-Protestant group formed in recent weeks, praised the cancellation.
(03/06/97 10:00am)
From: Delia Vallejo's, "Journey to Aztlan," Fall '97 From: Delia Vallejo's, "Journey to Aztlan," Fall '97 Can you remember at what point in your childhood you decided you wanted to be a lawyer or a doctor when you grew up? Maybe your father or your mother is a lawyer, and so, you grew up knowing you would be one too. Or maybe five generations of your family had gone to college, so that was a given in your life as well. Many of us are very lucky to have people -- not just our parents -- in our lives who pushed us to achieve. Where would we be without all our role models to whom we looked when we needed guidance and support? We probably wouldn't be at Penn today.From: Delia Vallejo's, "Journey to Aztlan," Fall '97 Can you remember at what point in your childhood you decided you wanted to be a lawyer or a doctor when you grew up? Maybe your father or your mother is a lawyer, and so, you grew up knowing you would be one too. Or maybe five generations of your family had gone to college, so that was a given in your life as well. Many of us are very lucky to have people -- not just our parents -- in our lives who pushed us to achieve. Where would we be without all our role models to whom we looked when we needed guidance and support? We probably wouldn't be at Penn today. I define role models as people who can shape your life explicitly through advice and implicitly through example, especially as a child and as a teenager. They play an imperative role in our lives and we all need them. There are so many children who lack positive influences in their lives which is unfortunate because everyone should have someone in their corner -- their own champion or someone they wish to emulate. I believe role models make the difference between success and failure in life, especially for a child who may be surrounded by negative influences such as violence and drugs. The University has several programs such as the West Philadelphia Tutoring Project and the ACELA-ACAMP program that bring college students into the lives of children who are in need of a positive influence. Everyone who volunteers in tutoring and mentoring programs for children can probably tell you how receptive kids are to the attention given to them. Because we attend an urban university, we don't have to travel far to find children who suffer from the ills of the inner-city. If you find you have a couple of free hours in your week and enjoy being around kids, consider tutoring or mentoring someone. A couple of weeks ago, my tutee didn't feel like doing homework. He just wanted to talk. This 9-year-old boy wanted to tell me about his nine brothers and sisters and about becoming an uncle again when his teen-age sister had her second baby. He said, "I don't want to have no kids until I'm grown because then you can't take care of them. That's why my daddy left us." He proceeded to tell me he lives with his grandmother and that his mother gave her children up because of her drug problems. His maturity shocked me as he told me he didn't hate her, and he just wanted her to get better. "I want to be a football player when I grow up because they make a lot of money and I want to buy a big house," he said. Of course he also told me he wants to go to college because it will be easier to get recruited to the NFL that way. It's too bad he doesn't play football more often but he doesn't have a ball. I was trying to convince him of the virtues of a business degree, but he was not buying it. Maybe next time, I will try to talk him into pursuing a career in law, or maybe medicine. In the meantime, I think I will buy him a football. I cannot say with certainty how much it affects him and the other children we tutor to spend several hours every week with a group of Penn students. However, I do know they look forward to studying, talking and playing games with us. A child always needs an example. How else will many of these children be exposed to the possibility of attending college? Sadly, for the majority of them, we are the only people in college they know. We are one of the few people who can tell them about the world waiting for them outside of their neighborhood. It does not take much to give a little time to potentially change the course of their lives. Hopefully, some of these kids will be going to Penn or other universities when they graduate from high school.
(02/12/97 10:00am)
James Dunning's $1.5 million gift will go toward renovating the White Training House. In one of the largest individual gifts in its history, the Athletic Department recently received $1.5 million to renovate the J. William White Training House next to Franklin Field. James Dunning, a 1970 Wharton graduate, donated the gift -- which brought the training house renovation fund to $2 million -- according to Athletic Director Steve Bilsky. He said the renovation, which will create an office complex for intercollegiate coaches, will cost approximately $3 million. As an undergraduate, Dunning played baseball and hockey for the University. He is currently chairman and CEO of the leveraged buyout company The Dunning Group, the consumer magazine publisher Petersen Holdings L.L.C. and TransWestern Publishing, a publisher of yellow pages. The restoration also will improve the training house's student cafeteria. The University spent $1 million improving the building's exterior in 1995. "I developed great memories and friendships during my four years at Penn, so I've chosen to give back to Penn," Dunning said. Dunning coaches his two sons on youth football, hockey and baseball teams at his home in Connecticut. "[Coaching] has given me an even greater appreciation" of how athletics develops "discipline, sportsmanship and team work," he said. Dunning, the son of a vice president of The New York Life Insurance Company, began his career at the securities firm Thomson McKinnon. But his low profile as a securities broker ended when he bought Rolling Stone. After several years running the popular magazine, he bought the publishing company Ziff Corp. A 1985 article in Fortune magazine reported that "Dunning's career has wended its way from counterculture to mainstream." "For five years he looked for good investments as president of Straight Arrow Publishers, the parent of Rolling Stone, which became a big cash generator while he was there. "Dunning left Straight Arrow when he got bored -- 'The job has maxed itself,' he says." In 1980 Dunning married Patricia Fitzgeorge, then editorial business manager of Rolling Stone and daughter of the president of Pennzoil. February's alumni brochure Pennsport! touts,"You may have heard of him through his association with Rolling Stone," and media often refer to "James Dunning, the one-time president of Rolling Stone." Last August, Dunning and several other investors bought Peterson Publishing, the 50-year-old, family-owned publisher of Teen, Sport and Motor Trend, among other titles. Peterson had been losing profits as the market for magazine advertisements softened.
(02/07/97 10:00am)
From Michael Pereira's, "The Raw and the Cooked," Fall '97 By the year 2000, doctors estimate 12 million people will have died of AIDS, 1 million of them in the United States. As of 1995, the total number of AIDS cases reported to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control was 513,486, including 74,180 in that year alone. In the middle of 1993, the CDC confirmed 8,737 cases of AIDS in Pennsylvania -- 4,749 (54 percent) were in Philadelphia. There's more: in 1993, the CDC also reported college students and women were the fastest-growing caseloads for HIV infection. In the same year, 23 percent of people with AIDS were in their twenties -- indicating they were infected in their mid-to-late teens, or early twenties. Roughly 80 percent of Americans have sexual intercourse at least once by the age of twenty. Yet according to a 1991 survey of college students, only 17 percent of sexually active men and 21 percent of sexually active women reported using condoms regularly. ?AIDS, in short, is the most insidious sort of plague: both disease of body and pathology of culture. Not plague in the quaint historical sense -- no flagellation trains, no locusts or cabalistic pronouncements -- but the same blinding hysteria and misinformation. Understanding AIDS requires more than empathy and red ribbons (though it requires those too). It demands a complete revaluation of how we love, how we act in public and in private, how the government uses its resources. In short, how we live. Reactions to AIDS have resurfaced old philosophic questions, and thereby, unwittingly, shifted our focus from the medical to the melodramatic. The American media has successfully deified a retrovirus, turned AIDS into a popular icon; in a sense, attributed giant sci-fi fangs to a microscopic invader. AIDS the icon enjoys a deceptive celebrity -- a dangerous, misleading distance from the uninfected public. AIDS the acronym -- a medical phenomenon or the image of docile bodies on an IV drip -- permits us to become expansive. It transcends the solemn geography of human limits; it reveals the skull beneath the skin; it betrays the hubris of science; it exposes the frailty of human life? And so on, until we forget HIV is not a random, all-mighty storm trooper, but merely a disease, an adversary to be outwitted and conquered. The war is against HIV, not against people with AIDS, and our best weapon is -- Education. AIDS education takes on many forms -- awareness, prevention, testing, funding, research and treatment (perhaps, a cure). But it also has shortcomings. An unbearable flood of acronyms and shorthand has grown up around sexual education and talk of AIDS. A sort of AIDSspeak isolates the issue in a difficult, dull jargon. When we hear riddles like "A PWA, or someone with HIV or an STI, HPV or any STD, should use FDA approved AZT to combat AIDS," we switch to autopilot or tune out altogether. Neat abbreviations support the dangerous illusion that you can know it all, and that knowing is enough. But knowing is not enough. In the case of AIDS, you have to know the facts and act accordingly. This includes knowing how HIV is transmitted (in a word, unprotected sex), and how it is not transmitted (for example, donating blood). It includes knowing how to protect yourself and how effective various protective methods are (abstinence: 100 percent; condoms: 88 percent to 98 percent). Awareness also includes educating your peers. And yes, education is the duty of all of us, since the government (local and national) is disgracefully tight-fisted with funds for AIDS. Universal awareness is not a chimera -- it is a goal. And with that sort of optimism in mind, the Office of Health Education and the students of FLASH (Facilitating Learning About Student Health) have named February "Safer Sex Awareness Month." The point is education: to answer honest questions with honest answers, to make a sober subject palatable? perhaps to overcome that other HIV-- the Human Ignorance Virus -- which endangers so many lives. We have come a long way in the 17-year battle with AIDS. In the arts, Tony Kushner's epic play -- Angels in America -- proved a masterpiece can emerge from the ashes of hopelessness. Although a vaccine still seems improbable against HIV and its ten known subtypes throughout the world, 1996 witnessed awesome breakthroughs in drug and genetic treatment. The FDA approved a new medication called saquinavir, an antiviral "cocktail" that has successfully forced the disease into remission in a number of patients. Scientists have also discovered a group of men with a "natural immunity" to HIV: a double dose of defective copies of a genetic protein called CKR-5. Since HIV uses CKR-5 as a gateway into cells where it then reproduces its own genetic material, the defective copies serve as a barrier. This might be the first step towards the development of a cure. But AIDS isn't dead yet. And while the disease is around, educational and preventive measures should be our first concern. That is what this short month of "Safer Sex" is all about. It is a celebration of possibility, an expression of empathy and a kick to the groin of ignorance. While there is awareness, there is dialogue, direction, education, progress, and all the other longish words that add up to one very short word: hope.
(01/28/97 10:00am)
There are states -- such as Texas, Mississippi and Georgia -- that repeatedly dominate the annual Miss America contest. Pennsylvania is not one of them. The Miss Philadelphia pageant, a preliminary contest to the Miss Pennsylvania and Miss America pageants, did not even manage to attract its maximum number of fifteen participants last year -- not exactly offering stiff competition for the national level. The 14 women who expressed interest in the pageant were all given the chance to participate and all ultimately received monetary rewards for their efforts. This year's pageant will be held at Drexel University's Mandell Theater on March 22. Auditions for the event will be held throughout February. In an area beset with universities, the lack of interest may result from the pageant's relatively small amount of publicity, suggested Kevin McAleese, executive director of the Miss Philadelphia contest. "[It's interesting to note that] the Miss America Foundation is the number one resource for college scholarships," claimed McAleese, who holds his volunteer position for the second year. None of the contestants in last year's contest were Penn students. McAleese added that CoreStates Bank, the primary sponsor of the Miss Philadelphia pageant, has contributed "in excess of $10,000" to this year's contest. Regina Drummond -- a second-year Villanova law student who won the pageant last year with only one previous competition under her belt -- has collected about $7,000 in scholarships as a result of her victory and made numerous contacts around Philadelphia. At a school where students are accustomed to making contacts in internships and recruitment forums, beauty pageants are not a typical source of funds or connections. But McAleese explained that this is why contestants have little to lose by entering Miss Philadelphia. "The whole point is to reward the participants," he said. "There is no exchange of money between the participants and the contest -- no registration fee." The one expense prospective contestants do face is in preparing for the contest. And College freshman Kendrick Li said people might have negative perceptions of beauty pageants. "I think it's the stereotype of a pageant contestant that's bad," Li suggested. "People don't want to be associated with that." True to tradition, the Miss Philadelphia pageant includes both a swimsuit and an evening gown competition, which collectively account for 30 percent of a contestant's score. McAleese noted that the time commitment is fairly minimal. After registering over the phone, all contestants must audition and attend an orientation session before the contest. The only time requirements beyond that lie in preparing a two-minute speech outlining a "platform" and some sort of talent exhibition. The "platform," which McAleese describes as "something to speak to the community about in [a] year as Miss Philly," accounts for 30 percent of the score. Platform topics have ranged from "funding for the arts" to "teen violence." "Talents" -- which account for the greatest percentage of each score -- require the contestant to perform in some way, most often in a monologue, song or dance. The winner receives a $3,000 scholarship -- the highest pageant stipend in the state -- and the first runner-up receives a $1,000 scholarship. In the past, Miss Philadelphia winners have received even more money through speeches and publicity events. With such high incentives, McAleese hopes more local university students will get involved, especially since this year's competition will be held in University City. "[The pageant is] an incredible venue to help women build confidence," McAleese said. Interested candidates must be residents of Pennsylvania or be attending a Pennsylvania college and should call 232-3222 by February 1.
(12/03/96 10:00am)
From Lisa Levenson's, "First Person," Fall '96 By 10 a.m., my grandmother had dumped a dozen beaten eggs into the two casserole dishes of challah cubes that would become stuffing, and my aunt had brought the thawing turkey in from the garage. My cousin and her boyfriend wandered into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, looking for coffee, while my mom and I were draining our first cups, having been up since 4 a.m. to catch the first flight to Detroit. My uncle was picking up my great-aunt, who feared she was already missing some key parts of the Thanksgiving dinner preparation -- but my grandmother, her sister, had everything under control. It had been 14 years since so many members of my family -- 13, to be exact, all on my father's side -- had gathered together to ask the Lord's blessing, as the hymn goes, and to enjoy Thanksgiving's officially-sanctioned overeating. The last time, the top of my head barely reached the first wooden slat on the back of my aunt's dining room chairs. Now, that role was occupied by my cousin's fiancee's son, age 7. And I was just another adult, dishing out cranberries and yams and green beans as everyone's plates made their way around the table. There's something both sobering and hopeful about spending the holidays with family, looking into the past and wondering what the future will bring, especially with New Year's a scant month away. My spirits were depressed by snapshots spread throughout my aunt and uncle's house, of my father and his father, both of whom have passed away. But they were simultaneously buoyed by my 85-year-old grandmother's absolute command of everything going on in the kitchen, and her expert direction of everyone from her 80-year-old sister to her daughter (my aunt) to her great-niece, who was charged with toasting the stuffing bread to exact specifications. It would be hard not to think of family on a holiday like Thanksgiving, but it's even harder if your aunt and uncle, like mine, have adorned practically every inch of wall space in their home with family-related items. Most are photos: black-and-whites of my grandmother and grandfather bringing my dad and aunt home from the hospital; faded color prints of my older cousins as teen-agers, with his first car or her swimming medals or on vacation with me at age 3, when I sported an Afro; and tiny, sepia-toned shots of my grandmother and great-aunt as young girls, taking horseback riding lessons. My aunt knows the story behind each framed memory, and it's eerie to walk through the house, now that both my cousins have moved out and their bedrooms have been converted to office or guest room space. I still remember Mark's waterbed and pet piranha, strange and exotic when I was 10, and Ruth's trophy shelves, threatening to topple under the weight of marble and engraved gold-plate. But it's not just the photos, the faces, many years younger, that conjure up the family feeling. My uncle's father painted, mostly abstract modern art, and he stitched elegant needlepoint pillow covers in the same bright, geometric designs, incorporating family names into one-of-a-kind creations. He, like my uncle and my dad, was an amateur photographer, and many of the snapshots of wildflowers and birds hanging amidst the family faces bear his initials in the lower right-hand corner. Everyone knows pictures only come to life in Disney movies and old episodes of Scooby Doo. But when we sat down to dinner, in full view of those smiling faces, no one brought soda cans -- or jars of any other food item, for that matter -- to the table. My grandfather wouldn't stand for such indignities, and though he's been gone almost four years, butter was served last Thursday from its proper dish and water went into a pitcher before it passed the goblet rims. Just another family tradition, I'm told. Miraculously, we made it through the meal without a screaming match stemming from differing political or religious views, slightly burnt stuffing or my post-graduation plans. My young soon-to-be cousin asked for three helpings of pie (pumpkin and apple), finished them all -- and didn't throw up. The family met my boyfriend, if only briefly, and not only liked him, but also didn't excessively embarrass either of us. I have no idea where I'll be next Thanksgiving, and I'm already dreading the day when the big dinner becomes my responsibility, as my meat-cooking skills are limited to chicken stir-fry. Still, for two days last week, I had an excuse to ignore pending deadlines and the stress of schoolwork and job applications, to focus on the family I (and most college students) too often take for granted. That's something to give thanks for, indeed.
(11/21/96 10:00am)
West Philadelphia residents joined School of Nursing professors and staff Tuesday to celebrate a new partnership for a healthier community. More than 100 people gathered to commemorate the opening of the Center for Urban Health Research. The newest of the University's six centers for Nursing research will be "responsive to the needs of the community," said Nursing School spokesperson Susan Greenbaum. "The purpose is to link urban communities with academia," Greenbaum added. Nursing Professor Loretta Sweet Jemmott, director of the Center, said she will focus on "empowering the community by involving them as partners in research so that we can learn together about the ways we can save lives." The Center will offer education and advice to the entire Philadelphia community. Residents can come to the Center and meet with researchers, clinicians and service providers to discuss health problems and develop solutions. Jemmott noted that the Center will address issues impacting urban families. The Center will also deal with more serious problems including hypertension, homicide, AIDS, cancer and other leading causes of death for Philadelphia's urban population. The Center will be comprehensive and innovative, in that it will implement already-successful programs while also creating new solutions. O'Sullivan, a Nursing professor, discussed Keeping Teens Healthy in Transition, a program for teenage mothers she will continue organizing through the Center. The average high school drop-out rate among teenage mothers is 50 percent, she said. "With our project, 68 percent stayed in school," she said. Executive Director of the Philadelphia Housing Authority John White has also worked with Jemmott in a program to educate mothers and sons about the prevention of sexually transmitted diseases -- a project the Center will continue. After "wholesome dialogue," White said participants lost the "fear of talking about issues of sensitivity." Targeting a wide range of urban problems, the Center will create a "new beginning in the city of Philadelphia," Rose Evans of the Philadelphia Empowerment Zone said. Nursing students have voiced strong support for the Center. Nursing senior Laurie Pugliese, one of Jemmott's students, called the Center's aims on target. "Education and prevention are important in fighting an epidemic like this," Pugliese said, referring to AIDS awareness. The Center's establishment will also provide a wide range of opportunities for University students concerned with urban health care research. Options include observing, acting as research assistants, doing work study and teaching. Nursing School Dean Norma Lang, who recruited Jemmott, noted that "the school is always open to students." "The Center epitomizes? excellence," Vice President for Government, Community and Public Affairs Carol Scheman said."Penn Nursing is a world leader in community based research and service."
(10/23/96 9:00am)
Sarah Weiss was studying nSarah Weiss was studying nIsrael when then-Prime MinisterSarah Weiss was studying nIsrael when then-Prime MinisterYitzhak Rabin was assassinated. Sarah Weiss was studying nIsrael when then-Prime MinisterYitzhak Rabin was assassinated. I could never quite understand when members of my parents' generation would talk about where they were and what they were doing when word of The Assassination reached them. While I realized the major impact the 1963 murder of John F. Kennedy had on American society and how his death marked the end of an era, I was unable to appreciate fully how such an event could leave a permanent mark on the memory of an entire generation. Then I understood. I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news, on the 12th day of the Jewish month of Cheshvan, November 4 in the U.S. I had just returned from a weekend away, and I was on the phone with a friend who was dividing her attention between our conversation and Crocodile Dundee II. All of a sudden she said, "Oh my God! Rabin's been shot. Turn on your radio!" and hung up the phone. I turned on my radio and listened in disbelief. Although initial reports stated that Rabin was still alive, we all knew the truth. After hearing confirmation of his death, I spent the night sitting up in bed, awake and numb, unable to grasp what had just occurred. The next day, after attending a short memorial service at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, I -- along with what seemed to be the entire population of Israel and then some --went to view Rabin's casket, on display at the Knesset (Israeli Parliament). For four hours, I waited in the blazing sun in the midst of thousands of people pushing and shoving to advance in the "line." I kept asking myself why we were there. If it was simply a matter of showing respect for a fallen leader, why was everyone yelling and screaming and shoving his neighbors? Were we in a hurry? Looking back now, I have begun to understand what was occurring at the time. While we waited, we still refused to believe it had actually happened. We were all pushing to the front to confirm that it wasn't really true. For us, Rabin was still alive. Finally, we reached the entrance of the Knesset and saw the casket. The first tears began to flow. Then we were silent. This silence remained, hanging over the country like a heavy cloud, for the rest of the week. I remember taking the bus to the funeral the next day, for example. I had traveled on buses in Israel hundreds of times before and had always been impressed by the cacophonous din. Indeed, riding the bus in Israel is quite an "experience," complete with angry drivers, busy-body grandmothers, shouting old men, praying rabbis, rowdy teens and pushy mothers with their screaming babies -- all crowded together and competing for the same air-space. But on the way to the funeral, even on the bus, you could hear a pin drop. When I arrived to view the funeral procession, most streets were blocked off to traffic. People, many with tear-streaked faces, simply wandered about aimlessly, like zombies. It all seemed like some surreal nightmare. The worst thing was that no one could console their neighbor; we were experiencing a national crisis to which no one was immune. Everyone was in mourning. Everyone was in pain. A mood of despair prevailed throughout Israel in the wake of Rabin's assassination. But even so, one small gesture in the chaos of the funeral procession gave me reason to hope. A yeshiva student who had been distributing water handed me an essay written by the late Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kook, the highly revered first chief rabbi of Israel. Rabbi Kook's piece dealt with the importance of mutual respect, and I will conclude with his final paragraph, which offers a universal message: "My brothers and sisters? as long as we chose that which unites and connects us, which is far greater than that which splits and divides us, as long as we direct our hearts and our intentions to the public interest, there will be more opportunity for mutual understanding and common ground between us, [and] peace will grow, as will the success and glory of our name." n The University community will observe the anniversary of Rabin's death tonight, the 12th of Cheshvan on the Israeli (lunar) calendar. The memorial will begin at 7:30 p.m. with a vigil on College Green, and will continue at 8 p.m. in Houston Hall.
(10/07/96 9:00am)
From Adam Mark's, "Mark My Words," Fall '96 From Adam Mark's, "Mark My Words," Fall '96Initial efforts - or lack thereof - to theFrom Adam Mark's, "Mark My Words," Fall '96Initial efforts - or lack thereof - to thecontrary, administrators have redeemedFrom Adam Mark's, "Mark My Words," Fall '96Initial efforts - or lack thereof - to thecontrary, administrators have redeemedthemselves with new safety initiatives. From Adam Mark's, "Mark My Words," Fall '96Initial efforts - or lack thereof - to thecontrary, administrators have redeemedthemselves with new safety initiatives. Blaming administrators has become fashionable lately. And easy. When the president and her inner circle all but ignored a crime wave until a student was shot and the frightened campus erupted in anger, they were rightly criticized. Who else could we have blamed? Pat Leroy? Hardly. Each other? Unlikely. True, nine out of 10 administrators are far removed from the problem, for a number of reasons. First, most of them retreat to posh homes in the suburbs by nightfall. Carol Scheman, vice president for government, community and public affairs, for example, lives in a half-million dollar house on the Main Line. Second, administrators are more jaded than students. They've seen a lot more crime in their time than we have, and they are more resigned to living and coping with it. Third, they understand better than we do that solutions to crime take time, and that red tape in the process is inevitable. But most students are hypocritical and complacent, too. The same students who demand a police officer on every street corner -- to chase away everyone but students -- cry foul when police crack down on underage drinking and disorderly block parties. The same students who demand that administrators protect them from crime shun their efforts to protect us from alcohol, which almost killed six students this semester alone. If students want to be treated like grown-ups only on their own terms, the administration will always be the bad guy. In all fairness, students' response to the recent crime wave -- until Leroy was shot -- was as languid as the administration's. While we were being mugged left and right in September, we didn't circulate petitions or protest on College Green until it was almost too late. We didn't call meetings or approach the administration until we absolutely had to. Administrators didn't take it upon themselves to talk openly about crime and seek solutions until they found themselves on the evening news, but neither did we. Crime is unpredictable; we usually can't see it coming. When it does descend on us, it exposes our weaknesses and forces us to change our ways. But could we have predicted a student would be shot? I would venture to say yes. In the wake of countless robberies at gunpoint, it was only a matter of time before some criminal pulled the trigger. Just two days before Leroy was shot, I wrote in this space, "Only crisis can provoke action." Many students, familiar with the ways of the University, felt the same. Until recently, Rodin thought her administration was adequately handling the crime problem. She now admits Penn must do more, and she's putting its money where her mouth is. I felt more secure than ever walking off campus Saturday night, since the streets were speckled with Spectaguards. I'm relieved to know University Police has begun enforcing the city's teen curfew. I'm glad the administration will financially support PennWatch next year. I'm delighted the administration procured the assistance of city and transit police. Even though most administrators are too afraid or too spoiled to live in West Philadelphia themselves -- and I don't blame them -- they do care about our safety. They just have a hard time communicating this fact from their homes in Gladwyne or Bryn Mawr, especially when they implore us to live in West Philadelphia. Rodin gets great mileage out of the line, "I live in the Penn community." You can't argue with that, unless you consider Eisenlohr big enough to warrant its own ZIP code. Rodin does leave her house and see the neighborhood, if not that frequently. She understands our predicament better than any other upper-level administrator, although she's got iron gates and an occasional police detail. In the wake of the crime crisis, the administration has worked overtime to implement solutions and calm the nerves of frightened parents and students. Valarie Swain-Cade McCoullum, Vice Provost for University Life, developed carpal tunnel syndrome after personally responding to hundreds of e-mail messages. She lost a lot of sleep and wore splints on both of her arms last week. Other administrators, including Managing Director of Public Safety Thomas Seamon and Director of Police Operations Maureen Rush, have worked tirelessly with students to hammer out creative solutions. No one wants crime. No one wants to live in a filthy neighborhood. While parading before the press brings immediate attention and quick fixes, students should turn to more constructive approaches. Here are some ideas: Join PennWatch. Join the Spruce Hill Community Association. Contact administrators and share your ideas with them. Contact City Councilwoman Jannie Blackwell and Mayor Ed Rendell and press them to do more for Penn. Clean up the trash in front of your house and call on your landlords to do the same. Pick up the phone and report suspicious activity to the police. Go out of your way to support local businesses, like Campus Epicurean, the new restaurant at 43rd and Spruce streets. Stop and talk to some Penn cops, and say thank you. Tell them you're on their side. It's the least we can do.
(09/25/96 9:00am)
From Tom Nessinger's, "Insepoarable My Nose and Thumb," Fall '96 From Tom Nessinger's, "Insepoarable My Nose and Thumb," Fall '96Philadelphia used to be one of America's greatFrom Tom Nessinger's, "Insepoarable My Nose and Thumb," Fall '96Philadelphia used to be one of America's great'walking cities.' Don't try hoofing it now. From Tom Nessinger's, "Insepoarable My Nose and Thumb," Fall '96Philadelphia used to be one of America's great'walking cities.' Don't try hoofing it now. OK, this is Philadelphia. You think all you need to get around is a couple of SEPTA tokens, cab fare, a bicycle or, God forbid, your own two feet. And you may be right. Auto insurance premiums in this city are only slightly higher than Ivana Trump's alimony payments. Parking spaces in Center City are scarcer than NRA members at the Democratic convention. And Philadelphia has its own, somewhat unique set of rules that dictate what happens on those streets, both in and out of automobiles. Besides, how people in a city drive is a reflection of their personality, their culture, their hopes, dreams and aspirations. Or maybe not. Stare at enough sociology books and you can read personality traits into pretty much any behavior. The first thing you notice is that Philadelphia's favorite pastime, after eating cheesesteaks and booing the Sixers, is running red lights. I really think that after you pass the Pennsylvania Driver's Exam, they give you a little sticker to affix to your dashboard that reads something like this: Green light: "Go." Yellow light: "Warp Factor 3, Mr. Sulu." Red light (if within 30 seconds of a yellow light): "Re-route all power to the warp core, Mr. LaForge. Engage!" Spend a few minutes at an intersection some time and watch how the people react. You can always spot the native Philadelphian. She's the one who, after the light turns green for her to cross the street, does a silent 10-count before actually setting foot on the pavement. She knows, you see, that odds are some schmuck in a deuce-and-a-quarter is gonna Rahal through the intersection at 45 per. So, first rule of survival: never trust a green light. What's truly amazing about this is that the same folks who feel that the Lord God Himself has ordained the practice of rocketing through red lights do a complete 180 at four-way stops. You couldn't pay a Philly driver to take the lead at a four-way stop. Suddenly all that red-light aggression gets re-channeled into a sort of Chip-and-Dale pantomime of, "After you." "No, after you." "Indubitably?" etc. etc., until finally one person gets tired of gesturing or runs out of gas, whichever occurs first. This basic inconsistency totally floored me when I first moved out here from L.A. See, the city motto of Los Angeles is, "Me first!" At a four-way stop in southern California, people make complete stops the way Schwarzenegger uses complete sentences: seldom and at random intervals. If your average L.A. drivers had their way, they'd all plow through the intersection simultaneously, hoods fusing together at the middle, leaving only a steel-and-aluminum plus-sign sculpture. Only the overriding desire to preserve all that expensive foreign rolling stock keeps every intersection in the Los Angeles basin from looking like "Addition is Commutative Night" at the demolition derby. But at least you don't have to wait until the next Ice Age for someone to take the right-of-way. However, what truly amazes me, even more than this Jekyll-and-Hyde behavior at the intersections, is the way streets here are used for commerce. I'm not necessarily talking about how I always seem to be behind the guy who's fishing through the gum wrappers in his ash tray, looking for change to buy the Daily News from a median-strip vendor while traffic behind him backs up into the next area code (although that grates like tinfoil on dental work). I'm talking about how, every weekend that the temperature is above freezing, every pre-teen and teenager in the Delaware Valley goes to stand in the middle of the street collecting money for the soccer team or the band or the Junior Shining Path Terror Society or whatever damn thing. You'll be sitting there, minding your own business, when some drape-ape sticks a bucket or a boot or some other creative receptacle in your vent window, expecting some coin of the realm. Think about it. This is the 1990s. I guarantee that most of these kids have parents who spent years stuffing them into Kryptonite-reinforced car seats, childproofing their houses until nary an electrical outlet was uncovered, protecting them from any conceivable danger to their well-being -- only to let them go out on the weekends and walk between ranks of cars, every one of which is piloted by a pathological red-light runner. I'm sure this leads to some amazingly incongruous household scenes: "Johnny, make sure you wear your bike helmet and knee pads! I don't want you getting hurt on your way to street-begging for the school luge team!" Still, I don't know why I even bother to point these things out anymore. I'm the one who once suggested that driver's licenses ought to be as hard to get as licenses to practice law, reasoning in my own unique way that more people die annually from bad driving than from bad lawyering. But they didn't listen to me then and probably won't now. If they did, I'd tell them to take the whole lot -- red-light runners, four-way overpoliters, parents who send their kids into the streets to mooch for money -- and send 'em all someplace where they'd be out of our hair. Besides, Camden has enough problems as it is.
