Word: kitchen
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...centennial of the Emancipation Proclamation, that coalition of conscience ineradicably changed the course of U.S. life. Nineteen million Negro citizens forced the nation to take stock of itself--in the Congress as in the corporation, in factory and field and pulpit and playground, in kitchen and classroom. The U.S. Negro, shedding the thousand fears that have encumbered his generations, made 1963 the year of his outcry for equality, of massive demonstrations, of sit-ins and speeches and street fighting, of soul searching in the suburbs and psalm singing in the jail cells...
...weeks before, as torrents of mud filled with debris smashed into dwellings with terrifying force. No one died in the Rio Nido slide, but homeowner Gary LaCombe feels lucky to be alive. He vividly remembers watching a tree's mammoth root ball, 12 ft. in diameter, hurtle toward his kitchen window, then veer off at the last minute, narrowly missing his house. Now LaCombe, along with his wife Phyllis and a few hundred of his neighbors, has been evacuated by county officials, barred from returning home because geologists fear that an even larger slide may follow. Says LaCombe...
Although Daisy's is often packed (especially now that their very popular kitchen has opened its doors for the season), the best time to enjoy the atmosphere is a quiet afternoon, when the bartenders are in the mood to talk and no one really minds a customer nursing his drink a while. However, most Harvard students would probably rather drown their sorrows at a free kegger than spend upwards of $30 for the privilege of being too drunk to find the T-stop...
...artist John Bratby's love letters were put up by Sotheby's. Bratby, the Kitchen Sink school leader of the 1950s, had a hellzapoppin love affair with a much younger Diane Hills, to whom he wrote letters, as did Hills' father (less affectionately), as did Bratby's wife Jean Cooke (less affectionately still). "I understand from my husband," wrote Cooke, "the man with whom you fornicate on the floor of your flat..." All 25 boxes of the highly charged mess are now in some stranger's possession...
Evil is a large word. There should be a smaller term to describe the form of malevolence that sits at the kitchen table and indulges itself in the familiar dialectic: indignantly self-pitying sulk...lashing violence...remorse in the morning. Repeat...