Word: arboreal
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...afternoons around 3:30, Joe ("Green") Verdi, Angelo ("Foots") Colombo, John ("Detroit") Agresti and other properly and not-so-properly nicknamed neighborhood men gather at Rose's Tavern for a glass of beer from the 7-ft. wooden cooler. Then they drift out back toward the grape arbor for a game of boccie. On Wednesdays, Amelia Garavaglia, 76, flours her plump, competent hands in the back room of Gioia's Corner Market and begins rolling out 5,000 ravioli for sale hi the front room. Each evening, Ida Galli switches on the spotlight hi her front yard...
...American and I began to talk. He was from Ann Arbor, Mich., and after graduating from the university there had gone to serve in the Peace Corps. He had originally worked in southern Bolivia, in the same area Che had operated in, but after a left-wing military coup in 1971 he had been forced out of the country with the rest of the corps. He was in La Paz on vacation from Nicaragua, where he was working. He told me of his experiences while in Bolivia, and how he'd been shot at during the time of the coup...
This was 1969 when the macrobiotic wave was still gaining momentum, especially in its midwestern stronghold of Ann Arbor. The stories that had been appearing frequently in the newspapers, of people starving on the diet, of dying from salt poisoning and malnutrition, would hardly signal caution to Kimberly, who had a habit of extremism. And soon enough, macrobiotics had become her new gospel. Following Regime No. 7, no more than grain and tea, she cut out all drugs and stopped having sex. She stopped talking and living everything but the new found religion of macrobiotics. She would, of course, located...
Kimberly Rath stayed in Ann Arbor and adopted another life and style. And this one not too different from the one she had fled in Troy two and a half years before...
This much is gleaned from heresay, for the manager has disappeared and the help has been overhauled. In a place as ragged and permissive as Ann Arbor the affair was not one to attract notice, and no one knows who might have known Kimberly Rath in these last months. It is difficult to picture Kimberly, the daredevil mischief maker, the enthusaiast and extremist, the wild child living high and happy with a madness holed up in this middle-aged hideaway. Perhaps she needs this, a steady straight place, that could impose a predictable order on her days and restore...