Word: goldings
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Assembled in St. Joseph's for a patriotic thanksgiving service were Iraqi prelates of the Chaldean, Syrian, Armenian and Greek Catholic churches in dazzling crimson, black and gold vestments. The crowded congregation was almost equally divided between Christians and Moslems; there was even one rabbi. In the Middle East, tense home of three great religions that command the faith of 1.3 billion people around the world, it was a rare moment. After listening to hymns, Kassem rose and said: "Brothers ... I call on each of you, of all communities and sects composing this noble Iraqi people, to lay aside...
...that sounds just like Mother's trouble!" exclaimed a former Mayo Clinic secretary as she read an article on sleep seizures. Her chance observation led the clinic's doctors to a research gold mine. Her whole family, for four and possibly five generations, has been studded with men and women who kept falling asleep at meals, on the job, on Army guard duty, while playing cards-and, distressingly often, at the wheel...
Glory, Not Gold. The time was fast, but the pros made it look slow. With a harrumph that "it's a good thing for recruiting-it's not really the money we're after," Britain's army and air force warmed up. The first man, Army Captain R. M. ("Red Rory") Walker, 29, rode a motorcycle from Marble Arch to a floating dock on the Thames, leaped into a helicopter, transferred to a jet trainer at Biggin Hill R.A.F. field for the flight to Villacoublay, eleven miles from the Arc, caught a helicopter to Paris...
...first quarter, clawed back with two new filters: the mentholated Belair, whose pack also boasts a picture: blue sky with snow-white clouds, and the non-mentholated, "high filtration" Life, whose motto, encrusted on every package in Latin, is: "Life Is Great." P. Lorillard Co. (Kent, Newport, Old Gold) brought out Spring, a tastefully packaged king with "lightest menthol" and "honeycomb filter...
...prose. Cyril Cusack, trying to milk every drop from the "dense and driven" poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins (Caedmon), lingers with such lip-smacking satisfaction over Hopkins' sprung rhythms, internal rhymes and clashing dissonances-"lush-kept plush-capped sloe"-that the effect is a little like a gold-threaded, jewel-bedecked gown that dazzles the eye but numbs the senses...