Word: grits
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Made in East Germany, the cars themselves are far more luxurious than the average Chinese train. The first morning the steward arranges lidded mugs on the table and huge bedrolls and backpillows on our four beds, which within a few hours are blackened with coal grit. We fill the thermos hooked under the table from a water boiler down the hall. In Russia, a local car, which we are forbidden to enter, hitches onto out tail. Other than that secret compartment, we may stroll the length of the train, peeping into second-class berths (fancy slipcovers) and first (two beds...
...they frolic during World War Iand Dayton, where they peek in on a couple of querulous Wright brothers and help get them flying. The youngster, of course knows all about history, while the oft-addled time traveler ("Smokin' bats-breath! This isn't 1492!") makes up in grit what he lacks in gray matter...
...scores has not taken in most educators and administrators who have the ultimate responsibility for trying to salvage something from the public education system. Faced with the task of resurrecting collapsed schools and motivating uneducated teachers to function again, educators for the most part have had the sense to grit their teeth and ignore the SAT scores, trusting that if the wheels start turning again more visible achievements will follow...
...influence coverage of their clients. "If you print something worthwhile, you get respected," says Pryor, 70, editor since 1959. "If you don't, you become a house organ." In fact, while both papers yearn to be taken seriously as tough, independent journalistic enterprises (and both have shown grit and knowledge in covering events like the ouster in July of embattled United Artists Chairman David Begelman), Daily Variety, founded in 1933, can more justly claim a tradition of shrewd analysis and lively if eccentric writing. Indeed, the paper and its weekly sister publication originated the technique, now widely imitated...
...Bill or Billy, but because there's no Saint Bill or Billy, I was named William. They insist no joke was intended. By third grade at school, I was Will Knott. I learned to live with it, my private martyrdom. So I was more or less prepared to grit it out again in the army, Willingly or Knott (Ha!). What I wasn't ready for was the conglomeration of certified wise guys and punsters called the I and R platoon. They decided my nickname must be Wont or Won't; only the spelling was contended...