Word: gardener
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...tomb, unearthed by filmmaker Simcha Jacobovici, was sealed up again with a thick concrete slab. Now it looks like an ordinary piece of concrete flooring in the ordinary garden of an ordinary Israeli suburb, something on which you might put lawn chairs or a kid's wading pool. None of the neighbors seemed keen about the tomb's discovery; after all, they didn't want strangers running through their tidy rose gardens with torches of Heavenly Fire...
...Kavet ’90 and Andy E. Robin ’90—both of whom are former writers for “Seinfeld”—“Live Free or Die” aspires to be a hybrid between “Garden State” and “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” and it has won jury commendations at both the 2006 Seattle Film Festival and the 2006 South By Southwest Film Festival. Unfortunately, the film’s mixture of soul-searching angst and renegade...
...busy thoroughfare on the northern outskirts of Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon). But it is fairly quiet once you are within the grounds. The reception area has faded light-blue walls that look like they are about five years overdue for repainting. A pleasant tree-shaded garden is filled with primary-colored playground equipment of the kind you'd see pretty much anywhere in the West - slides, a plastic jungle gym, spring-loaded hobby-horses shaped like ducks and rabbits. The children's dormitories are further to the left of the garden. Further back are classrooms where the younger...
There's an Irish word, meitheal. It means that the people of the village help one another out most when the work is the hardest. Most Europeans are like that. As individual nations, we may argue over the garden fence, but when a neighbor's house goes up in flames, we pull together and put out the fire. History suggests it sometimes takes an emergency for us to draw closer. Looking inward won't cut it. As a professional navel gazer, I recommend against that form of therapy for anything other than songwriting. We discover who we are in service...
...easy life being a Quadling, I know. Am I ready to deal with three years of “Oh… You live in the Quad?” or freeze to death on Garden Street next February? No problem—I’m used to it. I live in Greenough...