Word: owen
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...Alberto Gonzales, who they believe might be too moderate. If Bush picks a woman, there's Judge Edith Clement of New Orleans who lost her home in Hurricane Katrina. Bush passed her over last time but her being a storm victim might now give her a certain elan. Priscilla Owen or Edith Jones, both circuit court judges, would please conservatives but would rally Democrats. One White House official says that there's close scrutiny of Larry Thompson, who served as Number two in the Ashcroft Justice department. As African-American, Thompson's nomination might help ease racial tensions...
...easy to understand why Trish and Andy Olson initially considered suing. But more than money, what the suburban St. Paul, Minn., couple wanted from the hospital was a genuine apology. Their son Owen, 7, born with spina bifida and a range of other birth defects, had already endured more than 40 operations by the time he was taken to the Children's Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota for treatment of a suspected infection last fall. Because the staff on duty that night forgot to attach a catheter to Owen, doctors ended up having to take emergency action several hours later...
Although the little boy escaped with no permanent damage, his parents' faith in the hospital was not easily restored. But then something unusual happened: the administrators and the family's doctors said they were sorry, explained how the error happened and offered to help with Owen's growing medical bills. The Olsons soon gave up thoughts of legal action. "They have been wonderful about everything," says Trish. "We were angry, but we're not anymore." Dr. Phil Kibort, the hospital's vice president of medical affairs, says, "When I went to medical school, I didn't plan on doing this...
...Wedding Crashers, OWEN WILSON and VINCE VAUGHN tote fake Purple Hearts to score lusty bridesmaids, irking U.S. veterans who support a new congressional bill to ban such behavior. The vets aren't the only ones taking summer comedies very, very seriously...
After perusing the street shops and the lobby of the casino to which we were refused entry, I bade farewell to the Heineken vending machines and ceramic cows peppering Monte Carlo and accepted the hand of Owen, our captain, as he heaved me back onto the ship’s deck. We made our way back to Le Port du Crouton, a bite-sized harbor in the French Riviera town of Juan-les-Pins where I was staying for a week. I had taken a far too-short hiatus from the paling lights of Boston’s Brigham...