The O-town Scene - Oneonta, NY
Issue link: https://www.ifoldsflip.com/i/17438
Jennifer Tighe Put Some Pants On This might come as a shock to most of you, but I have big news: leggings are in fact not pants. Yes ladies, it’s true. It’s also true that the rest of the world is sick of seeing your love-handles, your under- wear showing through the thin fabric and last but most certainly the worst, your you-know-what toe showing through in the front. No one, and I repeat, no one wants to see that. Unless you go to the gym for an average of four hours a day and you somehow manage to weigh only 80 pounds and still have enough energy to live, let alone get dressed, leggings as pants is nothing less than disturbing and probably not the right choice for you. I’m not entirely sure why anyone ever thought that the idea was “fashionable.” Let me tell you what’s fashion- able: jeans, skirts, shorts, even skorts, just as long as the bottoms you’re wearing to cover your bottom are made of an actual material, not spandex. When I first came to school here, I remember seeing girls wearing leggings as pants and thinking that at least I’d be the best dressed, but the silver lining went out the window about 500 pairs of leggings ago. I don’t care if they’re comfortable. I don’t care if you think they’re a cheap al- ternative. I don’t care if you want to show off your “hot body.” Ever hear of “leaving a little for the imagination?” You should try it. The worst mom-jeans would be 10 steps up from those $3 polyester pant imposters. Even worse than the legging phenomena, now clothing companies are taking note of your horrible fashion sense and mak- ing money off of it through the creation of the ultimate abomination: “jeggings,” leggings that look like jeans. Now not only are you wear- ing these atrocious excuses for pants, you’re actually agreeing to pay more for them than you would for a pair of actual jeans. How in the world does that make any sense? They look horrible on you, you pay anywhere between $40 and $60 for them, and believe me, they do absolutely noth- ing flattering for your legs or for your bottom. They give whole new meaning to junk- in-the-trunk. So please, burn the leg- gings, or throw a dress over them. I honestly don’t care how you get rid of them, I just ask that they are gotten rid of or worn properly. Jennifer Tighe is a senior at SUNY Oneonta majoring in English. Two Single Dads Allow us to introduce ourselves We are two dads. We are fathers and sons. We are teachers, learners, discover- ers, butt-wipers, hand-hold- ers. Storytellers. Culinary ge- niuses of the microwave. We are guys – fumblers, mistake makers, late-nighters. Above all, we are very, very lucky to have sons who remind us of the little beauties of every day, even when that day starts before sunrise when we really need to sleep in. The vagaries or circum- Sam Spokony Big band, big changes I’m a lucky guy. I’ve always had the pleasure of watching things built around me: The Internet, young cous- ins, a new Yankee Stadium. It’s going on here in Oneonta too, on campus. At SUNY Oneonta, it’s more construction every day. The noise and smell, the immediacy of change. As my peers and I are pushed to think shrewdly and indepen- dently in our future profes- sions, our campus is being carefully groomed for its big days to come. Walking to class, surveying new additions at every pass, I sometimes feel like I’m in a rehearsal for the school big band. When I entered as a freshman, the band seemed like a light hobby, a small group that played through Latin tunes in a small classroom at the end of the hall on the second floor of the Fine Arts building. I played the guitar montunos: those repetitive Afro-Cuban background lines that state the theme and thicken up the percussion. As a member of the rhythm section, I reveled in my simple role, laying the foun- dation over which the bright horns might create something fresh and unique. Two years later, the band is an overflowing congregation of around 40. I was there for the band’s christening as a representative of SUNY Oneonta at a convention for prospective students last fall, and I was there for the production and execution of the first annual SUNY Oneonta Jazz festival in the heat of spring. And although I’ve been there for the steps forward, I’ve always felt as much like a spectator. I think of Freddie Green. He became the guitarist for the Count Basie Orchestra in 1937 and never had to look for another job. He was fa- mous for his almost invisible constancy, and the guy never took a solo. To an observer, all he did was outline the tunes. His job description might have read: “chomp out the chords.” Four to the bar. Chomp-chomp-chomp- chomp. He made it swing, his own montuno. Today, when we play those old standards, Freddie is my muse. Al- though I express only a poor imitation of his actual musical skills, I’d like to think that our motivation as part of the group is not so different. The role is minor, but it is at the very core. Looking out from the center, the growth I see brings me joy, and at every swell and fall I am truly there. So as I see new develop- ment on campus, I eat it all up: chomp-chomp. The bees that live in the wall of my apartment eat that up. They leave behind honey – 400 pounds of it, my landlord tells me. And as I step over the brick and gravel of a future building wing, it hits me: This stuff isn’t for me! As SUNY Oneonta rides the rising wave of public school applications, the higher-ups can’t spend all their time thinking about today, can they? I may feel connected to it, but what kind of impact can I make on a place that will never stop changing? As just another bee, can what I leave behind be so sweet? But I breathe deeply. I am lucky, for no other reason than that I get to come here everyday and just … learn. I walk to class. The montuno, ah! Sam Spokony is a junior at SUNY Oneonta majoring in English and music industry. stance have transpired to leave we two dads in a similar position: raising our sons with their mothers – as partners but not spouses. We count our- selves as lucky to have these women in our sons’ lives. Suf- fice it to say they were once a larger part of ours. And so we find ourselves in an interesting spot. Co- parenting. Add then, to the challenges of raising a child at the outset of this fascinat- ing century, the challenges of negotiating complex yet enduring relationships with mothers. Mix in a pinch of dating, a couple of jobs apiece, the usual stack of bills and a pint or two of lager. Blend until smooth. We propose to regale you with tales of life as a single father. While we can’t promise a yarn or two about poopy pants won’t appear, it is not our intention to bore you with typical topical claptrap. We would not dare to suggest a diatribe or two won’t drop into the mix – to say nothing of our penchant for tangents. A short list of potential top- ics for discussion: Discipline: more than just a King Crimson album Dating: keeping kids out of the crossfire Prying eyes: tips and tricks for hiding prophylactics and other unmentionables from curious little hands The Third Wheel: when relationships get serious Good Choices: being a role model on the surface and in spirit Gold Stars and Kiddie Cones: What hokey motiva- tion methods are right for you? It’s often enough said that kids don’t come with instruc- tion manuals. We find that this is true for most things _ Ikea products aside. We don’t pretend to know what in the world we’re doing with ourselves, let alone with our kids, as we stumble through single parenthood. But we’re doing our level best, and we’re happy to have you along for the ride. If nothing else, our royal screw-ups should at least paint a picture of what not to do. Join us, then, as we explore just what the hell we’ve got- ten ourselves into. -Mickey O’Chavez & Raul O’Toole Have something to say? Write for us! E-mail Cassandra at editor@otownscene.com Oct. 7, 2010 O-Town Scene 5