In recent years our wetlands, or tidal marshes, have been rapidly disappearing because of indiscriminate dredging, land reclamation, pollution and waste-disposal projects. Since, for the most part, local laws have been inadequate to insure their survival, the Federal Government has decided to intervene. Last week the House Merchant Marine and Fisheries Committee reported out HR 13447, which empowers the Secretary of the Interior to assist local governments in preserving and restoring estuarine areas, and the bill is expected to pass both houses.
This is grand news. Not only do the wetlands act as storm buffers, but virtually every fish caught in quantity by either commercial or sports fishermen relies on wetlands for spawning, as a nursery and for the production of food. Beyond that, although salt marshes often seem drab, dismal, or even fetid, to many they have a bitter and melancholy beauty that is peculiarly stirring. As Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote:
What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and wilderness yet.
THE GAME'S THE NAME
It can never be too early to pick an All-America team. So here goes. Ours, however, is not presumptuously based on the ability of players we haven't seen or the blarney of sports publicity directors. It is founded on solid, objective ground—namely, how well the player's name suits his position. To wit: quarterback, Bill Wise, Purdue; running backs, Del Gainer, West Virginia, Terry Bashor, William Jewell, John Buckman, Bridgeport; center, Dick Stoops, Davidson; guards, Ivan Brawn, Maine, and Joe Puhl, Furman; tackles, Bruce Gross, Gustavus Adolphus, and Wayne Mass, Clemson; ends, Barry Gallup, Boston College and Fair Hooker, Arizona State.
A SWING AND A MISS
The way the story goes, the hole in the doughnut was invented in 1847 by Captain Hanson Crockett Gregory of Camden, Maine, who was watching his mother make doughnuts and asked her to cut out the centers so he could hang the doughnuts on the wheel of his boat. The hole in the baseball bat was invented by Joseph Martino of New York. "I read that most inventions occur to someone with nontechnical orientation," says Joe. "That's me." Martino's bat has a hole where the fat part of the bat—or good wood—has heretofore been. He calls it the Prac-Bat and says it's useful for teaching a level swing. The idea is to swing and miss. If you hit the ball you're either golfing it or chopping down on it. Says Joe: "With my bat you know you've struck the happy medium when the ball passes through the hole."
POINT BEFORE TOUCHDOWN
Teen-age girls at the Rye Country Day School in Westchester County, New York are being shown football films and hearing lectures on red-dogging, the duties of the front four and the like, and we think it's high time. Maybe some day, if the good work spreads, we can raise a generation of women who will not take our heads off when we spend the weekend watching football on television, but will get in there and watch, too. At Rye, however, they may be rushing things. One girl, who had gained an appreciation of the blitz and other sophisticated tactics, asked the lecturer, "Now what about this first-and-10 business?"