Word: recounting
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...asking for the impoundment of the scoreboards from the Dartmouth-Brown and Harvard-Yales games," he heard Betty say, "and are asking for a recount of the points scored last week in the key precinct of Cambridge. However, we first want to wish the best of luck to the incoming winners Jimmy Anderson and Walter "Fritz" Cozza in the upcoming year...
...Neil is one of the city's best-known politicians. His stereotypical Irish pol looks--stocky build, slick white hair, and bulldog face--constant jokes and vicious racism make up his now familiar act. While newspaper articles on O'Neil recount his actions humorously, few seriously examine and explain the rise of this well-publicized but rather ineffective politician...
...plot is enervating to recount, it is excruciating to sit through. The script is replete with rough-and-tumble frontier humor, Hollywood style, which means that the characters talk like unemployed gag writers trying to top each other over a delicatessen breakfast. Segal and Hawn, who are usually actors of charm and humor, here look as if they would like to be on the first stage out of town-or maybe even under...
...Rockefellers is an ambitious book. It seeks not only to describe the psychological inner workings of one extremely complex family, and not only to recount the fortunes of that family. Beyond that, seeing the family's story as the story of big capitalism in America, it seeks to tell that story too. A task that ambitious is practically impossible to carry out, and Collier and Horowitz are weakest at drawing all the necessary connections such a complicated scheme entails...
...their shopping bags to Bloomingdales, who attend B' nai Brith functions, who sit on park benches outside old age homes. I know I've been startled like this before-for instance, when a staid and jewel-bedecked elderly woman, whom I had automatically dismissed as uninteresting, somehow began to recount a tale of wandering barefoot and starving through wartime Russia with her little boy, begging for food and shelter. And there is the vague memory-did I invent it ?-of hearing my own grandmother tell a story of hiding in an oven while the Cossacks rode through her village...