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...train to New York. A middle-aged man dressed in a spotless grey-flannel suit waits nervously with his wife. Her face is heavily powdered and her hair is piled high on her head. Close to the track a wrinkled-looking man in a creased sear-sucker sports coat checks his watch and begins to pace in a narrow circle. His sparse white mustache stands out on his lined black face, and every few seconds his jaundiced eyes dart to his tattered straw-colored suitcase, checking to see that it is still there...
...small rowboat drifts lazily on a pond set among grassy walkways and elaborate shubbery. To the left stand weather-beaten houses crushed together on littered asphalt streets. A middle-aged woman stands in her musty living room, the wallpaper peeling and the rug spotted with stains. She buttons the coat of her seven-year-old boy and looks over to her other three children: "Now, are we all ready?" They walk out the door, with the mother in front, then down three flights of dark creaking stairs and out into the street, on their weekly visit to the park across...
After presiding over the Senate for four years as Vice President, Hubert Humphrey took on a real circus. Ringling Brothers-Barnum & Bailey variety. In red sequined coat and black stovepipe hat ("I won't throw it into the ring, and that's the first time I've ever said that"), Senator Humphrey stepped into the spotlight before a packed audience of all ages at the Washington, D.C., armory. By longstanding tradition, the opening was billed as Congressional Night at the Circus. Seldom at a loss for words, Humphrey kept up an authentic ringmaster's patter...
Remember: When I came to Harvard in 1967 there were no coed dorms; there was a coat-and-tie requirement at all meals; there was no black studies program, in any form; there was no University commitment to relocate tenants it uprooted; there was no organization for gay students; marijuana was still kept hidden; and ROTC was ensconced in Shannon Hall...
EVERY SO OFTEN, the neglected house of music literature is adorned with a fresh coat of paint. The Pushbutton Telephone Songbook is the latest example. Out of nowhere comes this slim but precious volume, this musical breath of fresh air that gives readers the same sense of joy an infant feels eating warm pablum on a cold winter morning...