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Word: kelp (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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Like the iodine content of kelp, air freight is something most Americans have never pondered. But Frederick W. Smith, 37, thought about it as far back as his undergraduate days at Yale in the mid-1960s. In a paper for an economics course, Smith proposed the idea of an airline that would carry small packages overnight from city to city. The airline would have its own aircraft and truck fleet, operate independently of the commercial schedules and routes and deliver its cargo anywhere in the U.S. between dusk and dawn...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Sagas of Five Who Made It | 2/15/1982 | See Source »

Suddenly Ms. Claus ran into the room wearing a candy-striped sweatsuit, sweatband and Walkman. "Nickie, it's time for your kelp juice," she called...

Author: By Burton F. Jablin, | Title: Troubles in Toyland | 12/9/1981 | See Source »

like the swaying kelp...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: A Room of Their Own | 12/22/1980 | See Source »

...books he devoured as a child, feeding the fantasy life that he turned into elegant reality. He took his two talented younger brothers along with him on his journey. Zoltan, saturnine and hypochondriacal, never left home without his oxygen inhaler and his health foods ("Vair is my kelp?" he once demanded of a bewildered porter), but was a first-class action-film director (The Jungle Book, Sahara). Vincent, Author Michael Korda's father, was an art director who could do the spectacular on a shoestring but never abandoned his bohemian ways. At the height of his career he sometimes...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Imperial Alex | 11/5/1979 | See Source »

...redwood house above the shifting kelp beds and nocturnal sea of Carmel, an old man is playing the piano, not too well. The room is large, worn and comfortable, decked with the heterogeneous souvenirs of a long life?rows of Indian pottery, elegantly woven tribal baskets and a huge Chinese ceremonial drum. The piano player's head, a bald mass, gleams in the light. His hands, swollen from arthritis, hardened by decades of immersion in darkroom chemicals, skitter over the keys, assaulting the same phrase again and again. "Damn," he says, "I've lost it." But not altogether. Once...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Master of the Yosemite | 9/3/1979 | See Source »

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