Word: pocketing
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...nickel," he explains. I pull a five-cent piece from my pocket and hand it up to our shaken driver. Daniel receives it gratefully, drawing it to his mouth and delivering a full-bodied kiss. He breathes a deep sigh of relief and settles serenely into his seat. The car's path straightens and achieves a perfect pitch of vibration as we lock in the cruise-control at 107 mph. Next stop: Times Square...
Which is what these scholarships, once they stop coming out of Forstmann's pocket, will ultimately do. For then they will be vouchers, which set off alarms because they involve tinkering with what Jefferson envisioned as the "gratis" common school, the one institution that could make good on the Constitution's promise of equality. According to a 1997 Gallup poll, most Americans are happy with public schools. Few parents in Greenwich, Conn., would take their child out of its fine public schools for a voucher of $1,600. But in inner-city Hartford, many parents would sensibly embrace them, which...
...Boylston between Fairfield and Exeter, Cactus Club, on Boylston between Gloucester and Hereford, Division Sixteen, on Boylston between Hereford and Mass. Ave. Pour House, on Boylston between Gloucester and Hereford, Dad's on Boylston between Gloucester and Hereford. Buses back from in front of Hynes Convention Center. Look for pocket-size maps in the Houses. You must be 21 to drink...
Root seekers haunt cemeteries. Dennis Rawlings had almost given up searching for a set of great-grandparents in a Port Hope, Ont., graveyard when, on a hunch, he took a pen from his pocket and poked it into the ground, hitting something hard. Tearing up the sod, he found an old stone reading MARY ANN RAWLINGS--DIED 1869. "We picked up 'Grandma' and cleaned her up for the next 100 years, until somebody else comes to visit," he recalls. "It felt like an episode from The Twilight Zone...
...jingle of the change in my pocket reminded me of my experiment. I felt it was complete. I stood at the intersection of Willow and Broadway, near a sign that proudly read "Ball Square" and I considered heading over a bridge that waited in front of me. The bridge headed back into Medford, toward Malden. Then I spotted Ball Square's local bar. I knew what I had to do. Twenty minutes later, with the last of my money and a bottle of Rolling Rock spent, I headed for home...