Word: midday
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From the air, Saigon appears to shimmer in the midday sunshine. The light dances off mile after mile of tin-roof shacks, and reflects from the waters of serpentine rivers. On the ground, unfortunately, the city has lost its glitter. Though it remained gracious and unhurried until four or five years ago, reports TIME Correspondent Marsh Clark, Saigon now suffers from the ills that afflict modern cities-and then some. No fewer than 894,000 vehicles, ranging from Lambrettas to lumbering trucks, jam the city's streets. Their fumes engulf Saigon in a noxious blue haze that is killing...
...World Trade Center has obliterated a number of cheap Irish bars where one used to be able to get a bowl of stew and a beer for 70?," he reports. "The discount radio stores have moved uptown, and Trinity Church now hosts a rock group at midday instead of a choir." Even so, adds Tompkins, "covering Wall Street is like watching a floating crap game. The scene drifts, the players change, but the game goes...
...pirates spurned his offer. "They said I was only one while the passengers were many," he said later. "It seems my stock is falling." Arab ambassadors who were summoned to the airport urged the hijackers to release the passengers, but to no avail. As temperatures rose in the broiling midday sun, tension mounted in the sweltering plane. The hijackers, at first confident and polite, became edgy and fingered their weapons menacingly. "The girl was doing things like getting water for passengers," recalled one man who was aboard the plane. "But as time passed the hijackers' mood changed and they...
...people get wooden in old age; they look back and cling to the past with a secret fear of death in their hearts. From the middle of life onward, only he remains vitally alive who is ready to die with life, for in the secret hour of life's midday the parabola is reversed, death is born. We grant goal and purpose to the ascent of life, why not to the descent?" Erik Erikson agrees: "Any span of the cycle lived without vigorous meaning, at the beginning, in the middle, or at the end, endangers the sense of life...
Across the breezeway in the combination parlor-bedroom where L.B.J. was born, a small fan whirs insignificantly in the stifling midday heat. A pregnant woman, wilting outside her air-conditioned car turns to a companion and whispers, "Imagine going into labor in this heat." On a nearby wall hangs a narrative, "A President Is Born," written by Rebekah Baines Johnson and recalling "the sharp, compelling cry" in the room as "the first child of Sam Ealy and Rebekah Johnson was 'discovering America...