Word: fork
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When the westbound pioneers crossed the Continental Divide on the Oregon Trail, according to a legend told in the State of Washington, they came upon a fork in the road. A blank signpost pointed south, another aimed west and bore the words: "This way to the Oregon Territory." Travelers who could read, says the legend, went on to the great Northwest; the illiterates veered south to California...
Today most literate Washingtonians know from billboards plastered from Seattle to Pysht, Humptulips, Fishtrap, Washougal, Tiger and Nooksack that the state is in the middle of a classic campaign for a seat in the U.S. Senate-a kind of modern-day fork in the road. One direction leads to Democrat Warren Magnuson, who is staking his fight for re-election on a record of performance of over twelve years in the Senate, and promises a comfortable status quo, only more so. The other leads to Arthur Bernard Langlie, longtime governor of Washington, who promises to work in the Senate...
Eleven years ago Walter Paul Paepcke, millionaire president of Container Corp. of America, motored into the broad valley of Roaring Fork River in Colorado and determined to resurrect the sagging silver-mining town of Aspen. Paepcke built Aspen into a center of muscle and mind, with one of the world's longest ski lifts (14,000 ft.) and summer conferences featuring greats of philosophy, education and musiC−Albert Schweitzer, Reinhold Niebuhr, Jacques Barzun, Mortimer Adler, Igor Stravinsky, et al. This week, with the tax evaluation of Aspen increased sixteenfold, Paepcke, 60, prepared to open a new nonprofit enterprise...
...accepted. I propose to move immediately upon your works"; Robert E. Lee, the superb exemplar, bareheaded astride Traveller at Spotsylvania, held back from leading the charge: "General Lee to the rear, General Lee to the rear"; Phil Sheridan, little god of war, red-faced and raging beneath his fork-tailed battle flag along the rutted road to Appomattox: "Now smash 'em, I tell you, smash 'em"; Farragut, fabulous admiral, lashed to the mast in Mobile Bay: "Damn the torpedoes! Go ahead." Back of the epic lines echo the epic songs: Battle Hymn of the Republic, Maryland, My Maryland...
Several weeks later they were married, but the marriage did not turn out to be what the doctor ordered. Milton was all set to live it up, but his wife proved to be an almost pathological stinge. Milt was a low-born lunk who still crossed his knife and fork on the plate when he finished his dinner, but his wife was the sort of girl who lusted after little French restaurants, where the soup tastes "like a prism," and she was always happy to tell him what Whistler had said to Oscar Wilde. She teased his tastes ("Does...