Word: porches
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...beloved figure, the President last week was relishing what he calls a "working vacation." He was doing what comes naturally: chatting with an earnest 4-H'er about the calories in a pineapple milkshake, patting the beefy flank of a prizewinning steer, comparing a wooden porch swing to the one owned by "a girl I used to court." But the brief Western trip had its serious side. The President's approval rating had dropped to 45% in the Gallup poll and to 38% in the Harris, so he was intent on explaining his policies wherever he went: touring...
...passing out in the backseat of the Delac, on his sweetheart's lap. Not to walk back to Peg's picking my way through the blackness with a load tread and louder whistle so Peg would hear me loud and clear and not blast me when, stepping onto his porch, his door popped open a crack and he stood naked in the glow, his hands hidden as I told him we'd be on his property a while longer, if it suited him. Briggs and I hadn't come to Pegleg Mac's to cruise his rutted road, the night...
Buying new sneakers, without which summer cannot begin at all. Hanging the porch swing, gathering dandelion blossoms, pressing them, adding rain water and waiting for the bubbles of fermentation. A friend leaves town. An old man dies. Grandma cooks a mighty belly-boggling, legendary dinner. Douglas gets sick and lies loony and limp. He gets well. He and his brother rocket around town, crazy with motion. He hides, quiet, in the dark bed of ferns beside the porch, listening to the drone of grown-up voices; cigar ends glow in the dusk. His new sneakers fade, streak, scuff...
...Attica Wicker presents his autobiography. It serves as a perfect corollats to the grim recital of events and speeches. When he needs to express the observers and inmates in tense fears of a police assault for instance, he tells a story from his childhood. Sitting on his front porch one hot summer evening, he felt an eerie tingle in his backbone, a rasping ominous sound that grew and grabbed his ears and shrieked Wicker was petrified with fear even after he saw that it was only a column of tanks on maneuvers screeching through town, because it was his first...
...wooden house at 3 Sacramento Street reflects the quiet sedateness of a Cambridge neighborhood, where big front porches and cracked sidewalks create a sleepy, comfortable environment far removed from the bustle of the Square and the institutional ivy of Harvard. But once you cross the worn porch to knock on the wooden double doors, you leave the restrained neighborhood surroundings behind and enter a lively, self-contained community of forty Harvard and Radcliffe undergraduates. While not quite off-campus, students at the Dudley co-op are as far away from Harvard dorm life as it is possible to be while...