Word: buttoned
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...gave him the button of our group, which bears upon it our motto, "Hero or Zero". I gave him the Y.A.A. armband. He took them, but never wore them. Once he cuddled up to me and asked, "When are we going to have our first parade?" A suggestion from me that he get ready for the parade by putting on a red shirt made him look sick. When I saw how green he turned I gave up hope of marking a storm-trooper out of him. I had been looking for a hero, and I had found...
British and Chinese power in Lhasa seemed amicably divided last week, as the city prepared for the coronation of the 14th Dalai Lama. In Tibet had arrived a chubby, button-eyed, four-and-a-half-year-old boy, nicknamed by reporters "the Kokonor Kid" (after his birthplace in western China*), who seemed indubitably to be the 14th incarnation of the Buddha of Mercy. His coronation as Dalai Lama was scheduled for this week. To make sure that the enthronement takes place, the Chinese Government appropriated. $30,000, sent a special emissary, General Wu Chung-hsin, to this land where nothing...
...Moore married Schoolteacher Mabel B. T. Clark (his second wife) six months ago, her first task was to unravel the mysteries of a front-hall panel studded with 28 pushbuttons, representing the overflow of her husband's mechanical talents and his preoccupation with the front door. Push one button and the door opens long enough to admit one visitor, then slams shut. Push it twice and a party of six can slip in without getting nipped. For crowds, a second button holds the door open indefinitely. For salesmen, truculent folk and enemies, a special button flips the door impudently...
...less unorthodox is Phoneman Moore's midsummer method of taking a swim before breakfast. Stepping onto a balcony outside his second-floor bedroom window, he presses a button. From a swimming pool in the yard a model airplane climbs to him on cables. Sitting on a trapeze slung from the undercarriage, he presses another button, the plane heads for the pool. Mr. Moore lets go in time to flop into the water. On the journey back he just hangs on until the plane deposits him on the balcony again...
...which house carpenters as well as boat builders had collaborated. Her four keels were laid on the principle of a catamaran. On her two lofty basketwork masts, which looked like Eiffel Towers, the resourceful professor planned to rig square sails which would unfurl, furl at the touch of a button. The freeze-up in the valley had made him rush his plans, and under bare baskets the Experimenter buzzed off among the gathering ice-cakes, pushed by her twin Diesel engines. It was New Year...