Word: dears
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...know exactly what you're talking about. It's nice to be back in a place where, while jogging, you're greeted by friendly hellos from complete strangers instead of the blaring horns of impatient drivers, a place where strangers (usually older people) refer to you as "sugar" or "dear...
...boys had left a trail. They had a small doorknob collection in a kitchen drawer, not to mention closets stuffed with dirt-encrusted lacrosse sticks and even a skateboard. In the closet down-stairs, we found a piece of paper with "The Game Guy's Prayer" on it, reading "Dear God: Help me to be a sport in this little game of life. I don't ask for any easy place in the line-up; play me anywhere you need me...." Another sign on the wall read: "Many people miss opportunity when it comes disguised as hard work." Their jock...
...turns out to look like a Club Med and to offer reunions with the dear departed, but without any sectarian representation of a diety. This turns cerebral Ellie into numinous jelly, but it is an alarming comedown from the director who played so entrancingly with time travel in the Back to the Future movies and gave us the delightful alternative reality of Who Framed Roger Rabbit. The success of Forrest Gump has made him Hollywood's philosopher-king, free to spend a fortune doing for the simple pieties what he recently did for simple-mindedness: make them look like...
...felt no qualm about E-mailing "Hi Joel" to someone I had never met. ("Hi Jon," I E-mailed to Washington Post book critic Jonathan Yardley when he announced that he'd gone online, adding helpfully, "This is the proper form of salutation in cyberspace." Yardley answered, jokingly, "Dear Mr. Kinsley: This is the proper form of salutation in Washington.") The same informality applies to dress, which in this world--where style is set by barely socialized young computer geeks--has moved beyond the studied informality of "business casual" to truly casual. Inside the Washington Beltway, meanwhile, people still swim...
...print was firm and unmistakably her own. She never raised her voice when annoyed, but her colleagues would have rather endured tongue-lashings from other editors than face her silent disapproval." She spoke and wrote in a style that was flinty and spare; she was allergic to rhetoric. "Oh dear," she would gently say, lips pursed but eyes slightly smiling, as she crossed out a writer's phrase that was more ornate than enlightening. As a result, her words had an authority and credibility that we all tried to emulate...