Word: knot
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DIED. ARLEIGH BURKE, 94, retired U.S.N. admiral; in Washington. During World War II, Burke's daring command of Destroyer Squadron 23 in the Pacific theater earned him a place in Navy textbooks--and the nickname "31-Knot Burke" for his emphasis on stealthy speed over simple firepower. In postwar Washington, he navigated the shoals of Pentagon politics, rising to Chief of Naval Operations for three terms. An entire class of destroyers bears his name...
Regardless, Morrisroe has created a memorable portrait. She knows her subject well, though in the end, it was Mapplethorpe who may have been his own best critic. In a chilly bit of self analysis, a passage that comes closest to untying what Morrisroe calls the "Gordian knot" entwining art and sexuality. Mapplethorpe says: "When I have sex with someone I forget who I am. For a minute I even forget I'm human. It's the same thing when I'm behind a camera I forget I exist...
...point lead as Lonergan chipped in two quick buckets before Harvard started closing the gap. Freshman point guard Tim Hill hit a long jumper to set the Crimson on its way, and four minutes later it was Hill once again who knocked down a big three-pointer to knot the score...
...stir anybody's imagination. These are rare glimpses of the outer boundaries of physical reality, and of the fiery cataclysms in which nature perpetually regenerates itself. Even astronomers have trouble keeping their professional cool when pictures like the new one--showing a section of the Eagle Nebula, a knot of interstellar gas and dust in the constellation Serpens--come beaming in from space. "When I saw it, I was just blown away," says NASA's Ed Weiler, the Hubble's chief scientist. The image has such visual impact, in fact, that some researchers tend to overlook its scientific importance...
...guns, I guessed. I heard a scream up ahead. The men began shouting and running around in utter confusion. I repressed my own terror and started to make my way forward to find out what had happened. When I got to the head of the column, I saw a knot of Vietnamese huddled around a groaning soldier, a medic kneeling at his side. An ARVN noncom gestured toward the creek. Another small figure lay there in a fetal crouch. His head was turned sideways, and the creek flowed across his face. This man was dead. We had been ambushed...