Word: safari
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CREDIT, which was once the sign that a person had trouble meeting his bills, has taken on a glamorous new meaning in recent years. Now a man with a credit card can rent a plane or boat or car, live it up in nightclubs, take a safari to Africa and even get a Kelly Girl for temporary office help. Why? Because of the Credit-Card Game, see BUSINESS...
...nation's expense-account economy, nobody is anybody unless he can say "Charge it." Thus, the credit card has risen as a new symbol of status that enables one to rent a plane or boat or car, give parties in nightclubs, even go on a full-blown safari in Africa without putting down a penny. For businessmen it also provides a convenient record of all expenses to show the Internal Revenue Service. Last week the credit-card game provided businessmen with the spectacle of being wooed and fought over by a handful of companies trying to dominate the business...
Duren had to endure a long, painful safari through the minor leagues before he nailed down a job on the Yankees. For years he had trouble getting the ball down the middle. In 1949 a doctor, after examining his vision, advised him to quit baseball. But Ryne persisted, finally licked his wildness with the help of Manager Lefty O'Doul at Vancouver in 1956. "He taught me to aim at the catcher's knee, at his shoulder, at his belt," says Duren. "To move it around, one ball high and away, the next low and inside. I tried...
Floating on the Ocean. Watts feels that Westerners are attracted by Zen partly because it shuns supernaturalism. "In Zen the safari experience of awakening to our 'original inseparability' with the universe seems, however elusive, always just around the corner. One has even met people to whom it has happened, and they are no longer mysterious occultists in the Himalayas nor skinny yogis in cloistered ashrams. They are just like us, and yet much more at home in the world, floating much more easily upon the ocean of transience and insecurity...
...substitute high school teacher in The Bronx to give him the makings of The Blackboard Jungle (TIME, Oct. 11, 1954), a lurid assault on delinquency in big-city classrooms. His second novel, Second Ending, led him into the sickly undergrowth of drug addiction. In his latest fictional safari, Explorer Hunter's credentials are a bit more solid; he lived in a Long Island suburb for four years. What he still lacks are the credentials of the novelist-shortcomings that not even the theme of adultery can handily overcome...