Word: peaches
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...Fresh Peach...
...high school? When you read the pamphlet, what did you see? A pianist, a Merit Scholar or two, a Shakespeare expert? A poet, a biochemist, an aristocrat? Cultured young women, taking tea with the Galbraiths? Hornrimmed girls in dirty trenchcoats dotting the steps of Widener Library? The chocolate, peach and lime the CRIMSON warned of? Or Playboy's poll: "Cliffies are Merit Scholars who are good in bed" (thank God! the best of both worlds!). How could we know, when we packed our suitcases, packed those Villager skirt sand shoes with matching pocketbooks, packed little dresses for the teas...
Grisly Mess. The grim series of discoveries in Yuba City began one morning two weeks ago, when Goro Kagehiro, a Japanese-American grower who has orchards just north of town, glanced down between two rows of peach trees and noticed a freshly dug hole about the size of a grave. When he returned that evening, the hole had been completely covered up. Uneasy, he came back next day with the deputies, who soon found the first dead man. What followed turned into a grisly mess that outranks the more gruesome mass murders of the recent American past: the 1966 killing...
Died. Robert E. Peach, 51, former head of Mohawk Airlines; of self-inflicted gunshot wounds; in Clinton, N.Y. A World War II Navy bomber pilot who won two Distinguished Flying Crosses. Peach joined tiny Robinson Airlines (three planes) in 1945. After Robinson changed its name to Mohawk, he was elected president, and later board chairman. The driving force behind Mohawk's rapid rise to become the nation's 4th largest regional carrier. Peach was also the first president of a U.S. scheduled airline to hire a black stewardess...
...blocks its path. Even in the most abstract of Liberman's new works like Above, 1970, there is a buoyancy that invites physical response: the interlocking red cylinders, with their infoldings of metal skin and turning space, demand to be navigated by the eye as imperiously as a peach demands fondling. Robert Hughes