Word: homed
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...were welcomed by a heavy-set young man who called himself our "baby dean." After pinning on badges bearing our names and home states, we were led into the room where the Conants were receiving. "Mrs. Conant has bursitis, so won't be shaking hands today," whispered an officiating beadle, as the small group of curious visitors was ushered...
After introductions, which included some comment or topical reference to each guest's home state, we were conducted into the dining room where two ladies were pouring tea at opposite ends of a candle-lit table. "I feel that these affairs will accomplish a great deal even if they only get the freshmen into the civilizing habit of tea-drinking," someone was saying, as I reached for some sandwiches, obeying a primitive urge...
...Conant, still holding a bouquet to ward off unknowing handshakers, was discussing the impracticality of the President's House, as a home. "It was built by President Lowell whose idea of something grand was that spiral staircase over there. It's fine for allowing ladies to sweep down in a full skirt and a train, but it seems as if the staircase came first and the house as an after-thought." Someone asked her if she had occasion to sweep down with a train much, and she laughed and said not much. "Of course, this place is practical when...
...feeling to bathos ; his slushy novel, The Miracle of the Bells (TIME, Sept. 16, 1946), sold 750,000 copies. His doggerel Vision of Red O'Shea may not do as well, but it has a distinction of its own: not since Edgar Guest lit his Harbor Lights of Home and Robert Service thumped through Songs of a Sourdough has a versifier shown such loving absorption in platitude and meticulous attention to clich...
This time Bemelmans pops the cork in a village of the Tyrol, where he spent part of his boyhood. Out comes a bubbling mixture of beautiful spies who refuse to be seduced, mountaineers who outwit pockmarked Nazis, and emigrant sons who write home from America: "Chopping wood one day recently, I cut off my left thumb and the cat got it ... and ate it. I am now forced to stay idle. Send me some money...