Word: porting
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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That freedom can have dangerous consequences for Jordan. Within 40 minutes last week, the fedayeen poured 16 Czech-made rockets into Israel's Gulf of Aqaba port of Elath, injuring ten persons, damaging a hospital, homes and cars. At dawn, Israeli jets bombed the nearby Jordanian port of Aqaba, reportedly killing eight civilians and wounding nine others. For years, Israel and Jordan had observed an unwritten truce in the Aqaba-Elath area, largely because both ports are so conspicuously vulnerable to retaliation. With a few rockets, the fedayeen severely bent that agreement. Further attacks on Elath would almost certainly...
Alas, new airports produce as much resistance as relief. Most people would rather have an ABM site in their backyard than the constant thunder and stench of a big jetport. Austin Tobin, executive director of the Port of New York Authority, has fought for a fourth New York jetport for almost ten years. "Can we balance the rights of the many against the rights of the few?" he asks. So far, minority rule has won the day, but now something must give...
...that point, Newby and his brass knuckles take over. He has thoughtfully managed Townrow's arrival to coincide with the Suez crisis of 1956. His first night in Port Said, Townrow is robbed of all his clothes, beaten up and left in the desert. After that he moves in a "neverending daze," not much surer of who he is than everybody else...
...Newby is no hallelujah experience. It means confronting and finally answering the question that one's particular destiny has been asking from the beginning. At the end, Townrow lives out the dream that has haunted him from the opening page. Like a saintly pilgrim, he sets off across Port Said harbor in a small boat, ferrying the coffin of the dead man whose estate he came to plunder, and then moves out to sea in search of an absolute emptiness in which to find himself...
...author of this hedonistic, gormandizing prayer is a Christian clergyman of serene faith. For 20 years, Robert Farrar Capon, 43, has been an Episcopal priest in Port Jefferson, N.Y., an old Long Island shipbuilding town on the edge of the Manhattan commuter belt. He lives with his wife Peg, their six children, two cats (named Anthony and Bartholomew) and a nondescript dog in a century-old house adjoining his small white clapboard church. At dinner time, the sweet cooking aromas wafting out of the old rectory hint at the true nature of a man who is no ordinary country vicar...