Word: lay
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Instead, they wound up in an unlit section of Ophelia Bonner Park. The park was once a well-kept, bustling playground before Jefferson Elementary School was closed a few years back. The city stopped maintaining the park, and it became a jungle of trees and debris. "You could lay down in the weeds and nobody would ever have seen you, the grass was so high," says Kenneth Hairston, 38, who lives next to the park. "It's a shame somebody had to die there before the city thought about cleaning...
...Clooney snatched Dallimore's camera but was unable to remove the film and asked Dallimore to do it. The photographer obliged, then tried to flee with it, angering Clooney, who, Dallimore says, "ripped my shirt and started to claw me," leaving scratch marks on his neck. Police declined to lay charges, perhaps figuring that's the sort of thing Hellfire patrons...
Summer in America. A time for blood-drenched, dumbed-down action-adventure movies high on corpses, dinosaurs and extraterrestrials, but low on heart. Summer in America. Turn on the TV and watch your tobacco-chawing interleague baseball games; lay down your $49.95 and catch a championship-boxing match complete with an outrageous ear-chewing incident. Summer in America. Also a season for music: strutting macho megatours; draining weekend-long rock festivals; sweaty dance clubs throbbing with testosterone-filled techno. Dial up Ticketmaster; go to an outdoor alternative-rock show in a field, in a stadium; see the teeming, churning mosh...
...last widows of Civil War veterans. Daisy's husband Robert Anderson was a former slave and Union soldier. Alberta married Confederate infantryman William Jasper Martin when she was 21 and he was 82. When he died, she married his grandson. The two widows met for the first time to lay a rose each on the coffin of an unknown soldier whose remains were found on a Gettysburg battlefield and reburied...
...face, a campaign diary about the 1996 presidential race sounds like something that should be marketed as a sleeping aid. But away from the staged events and stale analysis lay a hurly-burly American Oz of pig farmers, profane tiremakers and pundits with pitchforks. Covering the campaign for the New Republic, journalist Michael Lewis was smart enough to leave the pack and take that yellow brick road, turning in dispatches that were fresh, hilarious must-reads. The same is true for Trail Fever: Spin Doctors, Rented Strangers, Thumb Wrestlers, Toe Suckers, Grizzly Bears, and Other Creatures on the Road...