Word: napped
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...bought on a 90-acre hillside tract overlooking the Connecticut River. That winter he happily carried water from his stream and cut wood with a chain saw. For company he hiked across the river to Windsor, Vt., and passed the time with teen-agers in a juke joint called Nap's Lunch. The kids loved him, but mothers worried that the tall, solemn writer fellow from New York would put their children in a book...
Artistic Battle. He had begun another of his withdrawals; he no longer spoke to the teen-agers with whom he had talked for hours in Nap's Lunch, cut off his widely spaced visits with Cornish neighbors. Occasionally he was seen at work in the nearby Dartmouth library, wearing, as a friend described it at the time, a checked wool shirt and "Genghis Khan beard." His working habits have not changed: Salinger takes a packed lunch to his cement-block cell, and works from 8:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. He can be reached there by phone?but. says...
...names ("Oofy" Prosser is the villain, J. Sheringham Adair is the private eye) are felicitously goofy. His "floaters" ("I wouldn't kiss her with a ten-foot pole!") are a caution. His puns ("A fete worse than death") are outrageous. His hyperbole ("Carpets of so thick a nap that midgets would get lost in them and have to be rescued by dogs") is ingenious. His clichés ("The shot's not on the board, old dear") click with an exquisite remoteness in the modern ear, like ghostly billiard balls in country houses far away and long...
Spain's aging (34) Matador Luis Miguel Domingín was both glad and mad in Madrid. His hair cropped down to a fine nap (to win a bet from friends), Domingín was all smiles upon being presented with a third child, second daughter, Paola, by his wife, sometime Italian Actress Lucia Bose. But his face dropped when local newsstands suddenly blossomed with a Spanish edition of LIFE that contained the first installment of The Dangerous Summer, the account by grizzled Aficionado Ernest Hemingway of Dominguín's perilous rivalry with his brother...
...Time to Nap? Kennedy got moving like a honeybee in the spring. He patrolled the reaches of Los Angeles in a white Cadillac. Invading caucus after caucus, he made his plea for support, fitting each ad-lib speech to the mood of the moment or the region. Farmers need help, he told lowans; the West's natural resources need development, he warned Coloradans. On and on he pushed, relentlessly, coolly, gathering applause, staving off trouble from the opposition. Between caucuses, he held court with a parade of politicos in his Biltmore suite (Apartment Q), or checked new lists...