Word: gentlemanly
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...McGirk's article "War in the Shadows" [Oct. 10]. He wrote that after an ambush outside Kandahar, an American officer directed his men not to shoot wildly at the shadows flitting through the chaos because "Dammit! It's civilians mixed with enemy." The U.S. is trying to fight a gentleman's war. There will be civilian casualties in any war. We have to quit trying to pick and choose when we raise our weapons. Either get out now or fight. Denise Fitzgerald Shelby Township, Michigan...
...McGirk's article "War in the Shadows" [Oct. 10]. He wrote that after an ambush outside Kandahar, an American officer directed his men not to shoot wildly at the shadows flitting through the chaos because "Dammit! It's civilians mixed with enemy." The U.S. is trying to fight a gentleman's war. There will be civilian casualties in any war. We have to quit trying to pick and choose when we raise our weapons. Either get out now or fight. Denise Fitzgerald Shelby Township, Michigan...
...McGirk's article "War in the Shadows" [Oct. 10]. He wrote that after an ambush outside Kandahar, an American officer directed his men not to shoot wildly at the shadows flitting through the chaos because "Dammit! It's civilians mixed with enemy." The U.S. is trying to fight a gentleman's war. There are civilian casualties in any war. We have to quit trying to pick and choose when we fire. Either get out now or fight...
...There were men who danced. Where are they?” Wolohojian asks. There are no sketches in the exhibit of men and women dancing duets. In many images of dancers, Wolohojian notes, the only male presence is an unsettling one, whether it’s the top-hatted gentleman lurking in the wings behind the “Two Dancers Entering the Stage,” or the violin player whose music controls “The Rehearsal.” Wolohojian knows that most people love Degas’ dancers because they seem “innocent, full...
...entire sidewalk. I’ve had it with the guy setting up a 15-foot-wide tripod in the middle of a gate to photograph the Science Center. And the Barker Center. And Memorial Hall. And Widener. When I’m asked, repeatedly, by a balding, elderly gentleman and his wife whether I’m happy (they had read in a magazine that Harvard students are not happy) and whether my IQ happens to exceed 120 (a friend had told them that this was a requirement for admission), I want to tear my hair out slowly?...