HU to aid Homeless Half a million persons are homeless in Jamaica after Hurricane Gilbert ravaged the area early last week. The Agency for International Development sent aid last Wednesday for the homeless and needy in the wake of the disaster. Harding is doing~ its part to help them, too. Eighty boxes full of clothes, shoes, and toiletries, gathered by Harding students, lay waiting in the student center to be shipped to Ft. Lauderdale, Fla., where they will be flown to Jamaica via Missionary Aviati on. But there is one problem. Transportation will cost more than $2,000 for trucks to Florida and the air freight. Two trucks will be needed for transport. Steve Beliech is head ing up the project. "If each Harding student would give just one dollar, then we could cover all costs needed plus have excess cash to give. All funds will be backed by the Student Association, and checks can be made to Harding, given to me, or taken to Dr. Barnes' office (second floor of the student center)." The Bison Editor : Greg Taylor Aaalatant Editor : Susan Arnette Business Manager: Brent Curtis Advertising Director: Todd White Photography Editor: David Reece Sports Editor : Mike Allen Advisor: Jack Shock Staff - Carmelita Bandy, Sharon Bowles , Jeff Bowen , Dawn Dunn , Andrea Lively, Mark Moore, John Paradis, Lisa Pigg , Greg Petree Jim Schiefelbein, Trish Shanklin, Mark Thomas , Virg il Walker, Kristen Webb, Ed Williams, Randy Williams 122 Keeping busy a ~ ,,.,lT taat¥ Ate> W..Y ~ ~Mf "'tE tear If"-~ ~ f)t tie Owoal" ~- ~·~ K'fllE t~oo lA m~ ~ 1M td ~ ltUM •• (It\~ ' fei' \b~~ .Ml Lifeguard parable shows real Christian service By Mark Moore The lifeguards sat on the sparsely populated beach and talked among themselves. The topic of conversation took a turn in its usual direction as one of the leaders spoke up. "We have a responsibility as lifeguards," he said in a dignified voice. "There are people drowning just off our beach, and we need to start meeting up to some of those responsibilities. The water is full of people who can't swim; they're fatigued; some have given up." As he spoke, the other lifeguards gazed out at the surf. They had heard this speech before. They knew the job was a tough one when they signed on , but they didn't expect this. There were no admirers, no lifeguard stands. Somewhere the glamour they had imagined was gone. They weren 't doing their jobs. Some felt bad about it; others had learned not to care. Some wrenched their hands and cried over the poor souls who were helplessly rocking in the sea. "Something really must be done," they told each other. "How can we reach them? What can we do?" The questions were raised, but no one had any easy answers. They just sat and worried. Others stood at the shore with good intentions, shouting advice to the drowning: "You can do it," they yelled. "We did it; look at us! You can save yourself." Meanwhile, on the beach, many of the victims needed attention. A few guards scurried back and forth like medics at a war front, trying desperately to meet their needs. Other guards walked from victim to victim with a sense of duty. They would stride up, pat them on the back and say, "Glad you're safe," or "Why don't you come over for dinner sometime?" All the time the victims yearned for real attention; they wanted to scream "Help me!" but their lungs were still full of salt water. No one stopped to resuscitate them and slowly they lost the battle. They stopped breathing, and the surf gobbled them up once again. The saga continued hour after hour, day after day. Finally one of the guards staggered in with a victim in his arms and collapsed with exhaustion. All the guards on the beach gathered 'round him as he struggled to remain conscious. "Why do you do it?" they asked. "Why do you keep going back?" He looked into their eyes, but couldn't reply. His throat was raw from the salty water. His eyes left their faces, and he glanced at their manuals. "Is it the manual?" they asked. With a shake of his head he drew them closer, then in a hoarse whisper he replied, "It's the man who wrote it he died saving me." And with a grunt they tossed the lifesaving manual out to them. "Read this; it has all the answers." Their good intentions went unnoticed as the manual sunk quickly to the bottom. Still others gathered together and searched the manual. They knew it well - cover to cover. Every procedure, every technique, they knew as they politely, quietly argued. "The manual clearly states the proper methods of saving drowning victims," said one scholarly guard. "And I've seen some so-called lifeguards saving people with some questionable techniques." "But the guards in the manual use a lot of different techniques," said a young lifeguard. "Can they all be right?" The arguing continued, and finally they all left. Some were angry, others indifferent, still others with their minds appeased by a good argument. In the commotion another somewhat smaller group was dragging people in and out of the water. They were weary and tattered. Their muscles ached and their chests swelled as they drew in deep breaths of air. They paused for a moment as they dropped another victim on the beach. Each time they were torn between staying on the beach and returning to the surf. They longed to rest on the sand, but each time they took a deep breath, rubbed their eyes and dove back into the cold, salty water.
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy NTc5NA==