Until the recent bonfire disaster, the existence of "Aggie pride" was relatively unknown outside of Texas. The 12 deaths and numerous injuries have brought national attention to the deep-rooted traditions of Texas A&M and have caused even the heartiest traditionalists to question the continuance of the 90-year-old bonfire ritual.

Though it may be impossible for outsiders to understand, the amazing solidarity of the A&M student body explains why mauled Aggies being carried away on stretchers from the collapsed bonfire repeatedly told reporters that they wanted the school to continue the tradition. To non-Aggies, the notion of using 7,000 trees and 125,000 man-hours to build a 55-foot bonfire for a football game is ludicrous, if not downright insane. But to Aggies, the bonfire represents the whole reason why they are at Texas A&M. Tradition is the very essence of Aggiedom.

Though it would go against decades of tradition, perhaps it is time for Texas A&M to reevaluate the bonfire. Though the Aggies argue that tampering with the age-old ritual will irreparably dampen school spirit, Texas A&M has weathered the banishment of past traditions without losing its school pride. In the '60s, university president Earl Rudder let in women and integrated minorities on campus for the first time. He also eliminated the requirement that the entire student body be in the Corps of Cadets. Even these groundbreaking changes, which altered the entire aim of the university, were not enough to stifle the enduring Aggie spirit. An end to the yearly bonfire, a comparatively minor change, would not be enough to stifle that spirit either.

In the days when Texas A&M was a purely agricultural and mechanical school, University of Texas students liked to think of their counterparts in College Station as just a bunch of veterinarians and farmers. Add to that the fact that for years all Aggies were required to shave their heads, wear military uniforms and polish their boots several times a day, and it's no wonder the Aggies have taken endless ribbing for as long as any Texan can remember.

Over the years, though, the perception of Aggies has changed, and their devotion to tradition has turned out to be a boon rather than a hindrance. The Aggie alumni network is like the world's biggest family, with traditions galore and unparalleled allegiance. Although they do not go around in military formation anymore, they are still amazingly cohesive. If two Aggies meet anywhere in the world, they will be instant friends. It has been said that if an Aggie is giving a job interview to a fellow Aggie, the prospective employee has only to flash his gold class ring to be hired instantly.

Though many Aggies would prefer that the bonfire tradition continue unchanged, no pre-football-game ritual is worth 12 lives and 27 hospitalizations. For Texas A&M to perpetuate the tradition as it is now would be unwise and irresponsible. Instead, the school should limit the size and height of the bonfire and hire more outside professionals to supervise and direct its construction. A 5-and-a-half-story bonfire is an excessive, unnecessary waste of time and natural resources. Furthermore, college students with no outside construction experience should not be entrusted with the execution of such a gargantuan building project.

The time has come for Texas A&M to reexamine its old traditions and decide which ones to carry into the new millennium.

Kristin E. Meyer, a native of Houston, Tex., is a first-year in Lionel Hall.