Word: roading
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Moonfaced" am I? Because of that three minutes I did in Tobacco Road as a result of my run-in with John Barton, I've been resigned to being called "Jeeter" the rest of my days, but now you have to come along and call me "moonfaced" (TIME...
...Cajander, head of the Government of a "friendly" State, became a "clown, crowing rooster, squirming grass-snake, marionette; small beast of prey without sharp teeth and strength but having a cunning lust." The 60-year-old Premier, a schoolteacher's son, a forestry expert and middle-of-the-road Progressive in politics, was accused of "standing on his head, talking upside down, smearing crocodile tears over his dirty face." If Premier Cajander did not watch out, Pravda hinted, he would find himself in the company of onetime President Ignacy Moscicki and onetime Foreign Minister Josef Beck of Poland...
...drove six miles across the prairie to her school in Scott Township. It is a square, white frame building between a pasture and ; field of yellow corn stubble. Miss Campbell unlocked the door, lit a fire in the big Waterbury stove in the corner. Soon, trudging up the road from nearby farms, most of them in overalls or slacks came Miss Campbell's pupils: the seven Sladek children, three Smiths, two Leonards, two Hotzes, Lorraine Stockman, Frances Mc-Namer, Bertilla Loventinsky and Doris Augustine. Total: 13 girls five boys. Ages: 4 to 14. Grades: primer (kindergarten) to seventh...
...young children unwrap sandwiches, got the potatoes out of the stove. While the children ate, Ralph told them about an airplane trip he had taken a few days before. First crisis of the day came after lunch, when Ralph and Johnny were discovered in the ditch beside the road, fighting. Brought before Miss Campbell, they bawled. She restored peace by appointing them both captains to run the kickball game. But Ralph was still sulky after the game. Said he: "I can't get along with no girls...
This quality, however, is perhaps necessary to the grandeur of the total effect. Sandburg's prose is mostly direct, savored, terse, with scarcely a perfunctory or a pretentious sentence. If it had a smell it would be leaf smoke on an Illinois dirt road in November. Closely-knit to the material, it has almost none of the lyric blurring of The Prairie Years (where he wrote of Nancy Hanks as "sad with sorrow like dark stars in blue mist"). Because Sandburg has been compared often to Walt Whitman, his mature portrait of Walt is instructive: "Undersized, with graying whiskers...