Word: rusts
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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What scared the leadership was that so many people could assemble without the normally vigilant security services' finding out. Some Westerners were comparing it to the flight of German Mathias Rust, who landed his small plane in Red Square in 1987, an audacious act that showed up the limits of what was supposed to be a formidable Soviet air-defense system. The Falun Gong gatherings were more than a worry for China's security services; they were also an embarrassment. The police discovered that the protest was planned in large part by e-mail and that Falun Gong...
Anyone who thinks Christine Jean got rich by winning a Goldman Environmental Prize in 1992 should take a spin in her antiquated Renault. Most of the windows don't roll down; the passenger-side door opens only from the outside; and the paint is pocked with rust. But Jean doesn't care. All her $60,000 prize money went to Loire Vivante, the umbrella group she has headed since 1987. Its mission: blocking a gargantuan dam-building project that could have destroyed beautiful landscape and fragile ecosystems surrounding Europe's last wild river...
Years later, I'm at Harvard for my first year, shaking off the rust from a severe case of high school senioritis. I'm thinking I'm ready and rarin' to go on coursework. And then the fit hits the shan--they drop a heap of textbooks and source-books and required materials and suggested reading on me. Of course, the suggested reading is immediately thrown out the window...
...even these uncertainties haven't dissuaded the online therapists. "You take risks sometimes when you do this kind of work," says Jeanne Rust, who runs the eating-disorder website edrecovery.com "I decided to do that, because some of these people would never get into therapy if I didn't help them...
...close to the T and out of the Yard. So, it came as no surprise when my mother suggested coffee one October afternoon so that she could drop off my winter coat. I was a little late and caught a glance of her scrutinizing the dry oatmeal cookies, the rust-colored, checked blazer my father had picked out six sizes too big last Christmas dwarfing her tiny frame...