Word: lawns
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...could use to kill them. The next day, the friend could sense how badly it had gone: Hillary seemed a different person--not speaking, not touching, not smiling, barely breathing. She disappeared for the weekend, save for church and a prescheduled birthday party for her husband on the South Lawn, and didn't emerge until moments before he semi-confessed on national television. "It's your speech," she said. "You say what you want to say," which turned out to be bad advice...
...ultimate public display of private drama came, of course, on Tuesday afternoon, the day after Clinton's testimony and speech, when husband, wife and daughter, hand in hand in hand, did their "it's nobody's business but our own" walk across the endless South Lawn to a helicopter waiting to swoop them off to Martha's Vineyard for family therapy. Hillary wore blue, with dark glasses. Her eyes never met the camera. The President smiled slightly. Had the family temperature at that moment seemed too warm, it would have been dismissed as phony; too cold, and it would have...
Maybe Hillary had fought for her husband in January because her reflexes told her to. And maybe she had stood by him after his August testimony because a First Lady does not have the option of tossing her husband's things over the Truman Balcony onto the lawn. But as summer turned to fall, the state of their union was becoming a burning political question. Republicans didn't have to talk up the prospect of his resigning; Democrats were doing it for them. Even his most reliable friend, luck, was giving Bill Clinton a cold shoulder: Saddam was mocking...
WASHINGTON: Bill Clinton continues to insist that where Bob Livingston went, he will not follow. Flanked by his wife, Al Gore and dozens of House Democrats on the South Lawn just hours after his impeachment, Clinton promised to remain in the White House until "the last hour of the last day of my term." Citing both the nation?s business and the people?s will as reasons to stay on, Clinton thanked the Democrats for their honor and said that the only question is "what are we going...
...imagined by anyone who has not built his own town, Levitt would drive his black Cadillac convertible around the streets of his town, checking out what the citizens were doing across the abundant stage he had constructed for them, his ears attuned to local gossip, his eyes to lawn maintenance. (In the early years, householders who didn't mow their grass would find Levitt gardeners dispatched to do it and a bill for the job in their mailbox.) He was the consummate marketing guy, unmoved by books, paintings or music. His first wife once complained that she had dragged...