HIGH WATER AND LOW COMEDY IN 1993

Today brings 1993 to a close. A nation stands grateful. Not that these glad tidings reflect a disenchantment with the past dozen months, though months of high water in Missouri and low comedy in Congress make it a year easy to part with.

With the steady march of my own years, I find no great affection in any calendar turn. In fact, my inclination and lifestyle should rightly mirror that of a character in the book "Catch-22," a man in a war zone who intended to make life so tedious that it "seemed" to last longer.

To be sure, 1993 "seemed" long, though it will probably never stir in me any personal or professional nostalgia. As years go, it is quite like a stop light whose functions you aree convinced have gone awry; just when you talk yourself into illegally squirting through the intersection, the light goes green. That's the way it goes ... a new year arrives and his hit the gas again.

Seldom has there been a year with more hands-on operators. Bob Packwood grabbed women, then his pen. Joey Buttafuoco grabbed a girl, then a plea agreement. Michael Jackson grabbed himself, then others. Michael Jordan grabbed some glory, then some pine. Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat grabbed one another, then some history.

Give me, give me, give me. Ross Perot took his case on NAFTA to the people, then took a powder when he lost. Joycelyn Elders took exception to laws restricting drug use, then took bail money to her son in Little Rock. Jack Kevorkian took lives, Princess Diana took offense, Pablo Escobar took a bullet.

There are reasons 1994 might turn out better.

-- Though they are seen and respected more often, handguns still probably won't displace the eagle as our nation's symbol.

-- Cape Girardeans may this year be able to direct-deposit their paychecks to the Boyd Group.

-- Most of us will never have to trust our indiscretions to Arkansas state troopers.

-- Southeast Missouri State University's foundation, having successfully dismantled apartheid by withholding investments from South Africa, may use its new-found financial clout to resolve unrest caused by the license fee office grab. (Paging Mr. Botha, paging Mr. Mandela. On second thought, you better try fish and loaves on this one.)

-- In keeping with the austerity encouraged by the certainty of national health-care reform, the competition between the two Cape Girardeau hospitals takes a frugal turn. At one time, they each bought in on medical helicopters; in 1994, humvees at both facilities.

-- Envious of its tourism riches, the state of Missouri could ask Branson for some cooperation, making it the first state ever to be annexed by one of its own cities. (Adding to this grim history, the papers on this deal could be signed in a Branson building where the inspection clearance is printed on the back of a McDonald's wrapper.)

-- Believing they are acting on the wishes of a citizenry with affinity for mobile-home classrooms, members of the Cape Girardeau board of education could close all current schools, put all students in recreational vehicles, eliminate busing and avoid redistricting by keeping pupils on the road all day, change the school nickname to the Winnebagos and adopt as an alma mater Sammy Kershaw's "Queen of My Double Wide."

-- St. Louis can look forward to continued construction on its new domed stadium, which will be emptier than many NFL hearts. In a miracle of zoology possible only in professional sports, a Stallion became a Jaguar in public view. St. Louis can boast now of having two NFL franchises, though they will play their respective home games in Phoenix and Jacksonville.

-- To give to his country and its tabloids, John Bobbitt has but one ... well, you know.

-- It's called a 100-year flood. It couldn't happen two years in a row, right?

That's the year upcoming. Good luck to us all.

Ken Newton is editor of the Southeast Missourian.