Word: rivers
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...lived in the Boston area for the past two years, and although I considered it a quaint town, it by no means compared to my exciting home city of New York. Now, truthfully, I haven't ventured very often to the other side of the Charles River. In fact, in the past two years, I haven't often ventured outside of Harvard Square...
...plausible scenario, at least. But whatever the reason, Olmec society was in full flower by 1200 B.C., at a place known as San Lorenzo, on a fertile plain overlooking the Chiquito River. Like all the known Olmec sites, San Lorenzo is much less impressive than the Mayan cities that dot the Yucatan peninsula to the east. One reason: it supported only a few thousand people, rather than 100,000 or more. The major buildings and plazas were little more than earthen mounds covered with grass, lacking any sort of masonry facade and probably topped with pole-and-thatch houses...
...virtues, the candidate of the log cabin" has surfaced, this time in Jeff Greenfield's piece "I'm Just That Simple" [ESSAY, June 10]. Greenfield does not seem to know that Harrison, my great-great-great-great-granduncle, was a patrician, born into the landed aristocracy of the James River. His father Benjamin was a signer of the Declaration of Independence and the master of Berkeley Plantation. The plantation house in which Harrison was born stands today, open to the public. It bears little resemblance to a log cabin. It is surprising that Harrison was able to get away with...
...Every so often, Buschbacher lets his tough-guy mask slip and acknowledges that his team is the best, the strongest, that the race is theirs to lose. But if he doesn't push them, he believes, no one will. One day, as the Eight begin oaring down the river, he buzzes alongside them like a particularly persistent gnat, detailing the flaws in each woman's stroke, moving from bow to stern. When he is finished, he says, "That was just a quick tour...
...team row, one can get lulled by their rhythms, by the catch, draw, release of their oars, by the sight of eight bodies moving as one. But if the viewer turns her head away for just a moment, the boat vanishes, whooshed out of sight up the Tennessee River by the silent power that is the Eight. And that is nothing compared with the display of force they plan for July. "I think we're ready to inflict ourselves on everyone else," says Betsy McCagg. "We're racers, so that's what we want...