Word: ordeal
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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More embarrassing to Ed Flynn than anything which took place in Washington was the fact that 3,000 miles away another Flynn-impulsive Cinemactor Errol-was also undergoing a personal ordeal (for rape). To Ed Flynn's annoyance, accounts of the two inquisitions continued to pop up side-by-side in the nation's press. Most amusing mélange of the two stories appeared in the Denver Rocky Mountain Herald, a small weekly of 2,000 circulation, edited by the wife of Poet Thomas Hornsby Ferril. Said the Herald, in a front-page jingle titled Flynnlandia...
...come as a gift . . . has defeated half the husbands in America. ... It is as responsible for the absurdity of keeping up with the Joneses as the bare instinct toward conformity. ... It long ago became associated with the notion that the bearing of children was such an unnatural and hideous ordeal that the mere act entitled women to respite from all other physical and social responsibility...
Plea to Americans. Captain Eddie was far from through. The man who outrode death as a race-track driver, a World War I ace and an airline operator had learned much on the Pacific that he wanted to tell the U.S. He spoke of the ordeal of American boys on the Pacific battlefronts ; begged war workers to make superhuman efforts to turn out more goods. Said he: "If they could bring the combat troops back here and put them in the factories we would have production doubled in 30 days' time...
...carbolic-soaked towels." Later on, the style was to scrub the patient off & on all day with green soap, then soak his skin the evening before the operation with a poultice of the soap. Finally, in the middle of the night, when he might have rested for the ordeal, he was "entertained" by being scrubbed, and the site of the operation was bathed in alcohol and dressed with a wet, sticky poultice to be kept on until the operation. Internal cleanliness was achieved by purging and preoperative starvation-which had the unfortunate effect of producing painful amounts...
...loads at the ends of a pole. Each was more than I would choose to carry on a good road. He was nearing the top of a steep slope when we met him. I carried his load for the last lap of the climb and was glad when the ordeal was over. His luggage consisted of implements of war and the culinary art and my companion remarked that he seemed to "have everything except the kitchen stove.' He thanked me courteously, bowed stiffly from the waist and trudged down the awful mud slopes toward India...