Word: kids
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...tops. Who else could dress that way? He settled back on a couch in a living room so splurged with color that even the black seemed exuberant. A florist must have decorated it. A florist must have decorated his voice. He was talking about job hunting as a kid in his home town of Dixon, Ill., telling an American success story he has told a hundred times before. He seemed genuinely happy to hear it again. No noise made its way up to the house on Pacific Palisades, except for the occasional yip of a dog, and, of course...
...with genuine good nature is extraordinary. Conventionally, a severe sense of control is used to harness rage or malice; Reagan seems incapable of either. The effect of that combination, however, is not entirely sanguine. Twenty-five years ago, Neil dreamed up an elaborate and touching Christmas present for his kid brother. He found an impoverished family with a father who was a drunk and out of work, and Neil took the wife and child on a shopping spree. The parallels to the Reagans' own childhood are evident, and whatever moved Neil to emphasize the parallels remains obscure. But the gift...
...knew if my mother didn't hurry up with the cooking, they probably would. So, on one level at least, you could say that the Wild Things are Jewish relatives." At first those relatives were not encouraging to young Maurice. He remembers being "a miserable kid who excelled neither scholastically nor athletically." But he could draw, and he could read. When he was six, he collaborated on a book with his older brother, and when his big sister gave him books for birthday presents, he found a land as new as the one his Polish immigrant parents had sought...
...than the outside over there. Recently he watched a father carrying his young son in a backpack. The father stopped suddenly and the child bumped his head. "For an instant," the artist remembers, "it looked as if the child were about to cry. Then his head snapped backward, the kid stared at the sky openmouthed, and his face broke into this great goofy grin. I imagined how he felt. He didn't know that what he was looking at was the sky or that the color was called blue. He only knew that it was beautiful. And I thought...
...their minds. Where would baseball be without Goose, hockey without Boom Boom, football without Mean Joe? Common criminals would sound like common criminals were there no Machine Gun, Killer or Mad Dog among them. Not that all gangster names are so picturesque. Nathan Kaplan's monicker was "Kid Dropper" for reasons too awful to contemplate. And Al Capone was known as the Millionaire Gorilla, though it is hard to picture some floozie chucking him under the chin and cooing, "Come on, you big, bad Millionaire Gorilla...