Word: bead
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...simple game, played with bead-like white and black "stones" on a chess-like board, the object being for each player to try to encircle and capture his opponent's stones...
...essay written by young Sonny Carson. She tells the audience all about how wonderful it is that this young Negro boy has raised himself up out of the slums, written about a few of his experiences, and set himself on the path of success. The irony begins to bead up like heavy drops of sweat. The camera closes in on Sonny, no more than junior-high age and already cynical. When his achievement is cited as a "splendid example of the American dream," Sonny shifts uneasily. He, like anyone watching this movie, can see it all coming...
Fonda may now have to don steel-rimmed glasses before he can draw a bead on his targets, but he is still a great American presence, an icon to be reckoned with. The blond, blue-eyed Hill blends the spirit of a devilish boy with an adult's competence in the hard moments of a hard trade. You half expect him to pull a toad out of his holster, and you never quite believe that he can draw thrice in the time it takes ordinary men to draw once. And you shouldn't. For this...
...assembled or as kits. In the shop, they were stacked up under a couple of large color photos of Jack Guy himself, wearing an outlandish shirt of more colors and materials than Joseph's coat, bibbed over-alls, and an immense sort of Hoss Cartwright style black hat with bead-work band. The hat suggested a renegade Indian trader. Jack Guy's hair is cut rather too neatly for a hill person, but his face is pretty convincingly weathered. In the pictures he holds a gee gaw whimmy-diddle or a flipper-dinger, and in inset photos he shows...
...head, and she agreed. Feminism said, you mean stuck like an enemy outpost, dig it out or shoot it down. Analysis said, not so easy, remember how guilty you tend to get, you'll punish yourself, you know--and how she knew. So she dilly-dallies. She draws a bead on the old need, she stiffens, she throws a tantrum of self-doubt, runs a guantlet of self-vivisection, and clutches at the coat lapels of her man, for self-definition. Fear of flying wins out every time. She should start a halfway house for feminists. Wait, no, she shouldn...