Word: mountings
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...South Pole. Shortly after noon on June 8, 1924, the 38-year-old English schoolmaster and Alpinist George Leigh Mallory, along with a young companion, an Oxford engineering student and oarsman named Andrew ("Sandy") Irvine, 22, vanished into the mists surrounding the summit of 29,028-ft. Mount Everest, the world's highest mountain, never to be heard from again...
Although I haven't seen the Onion anywhere on campus, they do ship to campuses all over the country. But, unless some-one wants to mount a campaign to bring the Onion to Harvard, you'll have to check it out online at www.theonion.com. Harvard even finds a place in Our Dumb Century, when John F. Kennedy calls himself not a powder puff but "Ich bin Ein Ivy-League playboy millionaire" and "Ich bin ein privileged, blue-blood Harvard...
...seems that the mountain will always have stories to tell--or at least that there will always be people looking to solve its mysteries. A group of explorers this week announced that they may have discovered the body of climber George Mallory high atop Mount Everest. Mallory died in 1924 in a blizzard on the mountain, and there remains the hotly-debated question of whether he was killed on his way to the summit or on the way down after successfully reaching the top. Mallory and his fellow climber Andrew Irvine might turn out to have been the first...
...needed to defend against derogatory remarks about a child's looks or race. In later teen years, it's not easy for a white parent to explain to his dark-skinned daughter why other white parents don't want their sons to date her. Amy and Brad Russell of Mount Vernon, Iowa, refuse to let any of their seven multi-ethnic adopted kids use race as a crutch. They also know the struggle will be lifelong. "I'm going to have six young black men in the house," Amy says. "I worry for their emotional and physical safety...
From a ridge on Mount Holyoke--the mountain, not the college--Tracy Kidder looks down at Northampton, Mass., near where he lives. He has just written an impressionistic portrait of this old New England community, Home Town (Random House; 349 pages; $25.95). From his perch, he dreams up a lofty introduction that concludes, "...the cornfields are a dream of perfect order, and the town seems entirely coherent, self-contained, a place where a person might live a whole life and consider it complete, a tiny civilization all its own." Then, beguiled by a sentimental image, he adds, "The town below...