Word: hometown
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...first met the Boxx about a year ago in the basement of a Unitarian church in my Midwestern hometown of Oak Park, Illinois. I had booked a show there for him, and I’d talked to him online a few times prior to our meeting. He and his friends rolled up in a crowded van about two hours late, and Juice ran into the bathroom as soon as he stumbled out of it to change into his stage clothes—a blue jumpsuit, a pair of Phat Farm boxers, and a cock-ring he?...
Performance of the Week Relations between India and Pakistan got a boost last week after some hotel hopping diplomacy in New York City. First, INDIAN PRIME MINISTER MANMOHAN SINGH traveled to the Roosevelt Hotel to meet PAKISTAN PRESIDENT PERVEZ MUSHARRAF, who gave him a painting of Singh's boyhood hometown, the village of Gah in Pakistan's Punjab province, and one of his old report cards. Then the two men had a one-on-one meeting without aides that lasted an hour. Later in the day, Musharraf traveled five blocks to Singh's hotel, the New York Palace, where...
...trips home have become progressively shorter and less frequent. With every trip, the clothes I’ve abandoned in my closet look shabbier and lonelier, and the books on my shelves more outgrown; with every trip, I am struck by the businesses that have closed in my hometown and by the new houses that loom, raw, over freshly-seeded lawns. I can no longer name the children who bicycle in wobbly circles in the street. I can no longer identify the dogs that strain, barking, against their leads when I walk my dog past. Like most of the kids...
Once—say, at mid-century—college was the place you made that Xerox. You came to college from your hometown, met someone, married, and then replicated the home you’d come from—perhaps a little blurrily. John Updike ’54 married in his senior year here. In 1960, the median age of women at marriage was about 20; for men, it was about...
...country that never was, an America in which Lindbergh, an isolationist in real life, defeated Franklin Delano Roosevelt to become the 33rd President of the United States of America. Armed with that premise, Roth takes readers on a harrowing safari across interdimensional borders into a bizarro version of his hometown, mid-century Newark, N.J., where we encounter Roth's own family and Roth himself as a child, living under the Lindbergh Administration. "My little rubric that I would recite to myself," Roth says, "was 'Don't invent it, remember...