Word: scrapbooks
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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These are not the only ones all of you, locked into the controlless starship of time and impotent in chronology, have missed. There are others who probably rate in every individual mother's scrapbook a star or a word or both, but not in a general prospectus of Harvard sports. You missed a lot, yet there is still much to look forward to in the existing Crimson rogues gallery mounted in the athletic forum...
...without oomph is like a ducktail without grease. Maybe they were tired, or just bored with it all, or preoccupied with endorsing their paychecks. But whatever it was, Sha Na Na's concert wasn't anything to make you paste the ticket stubs in your scrapbook. It seemed like the group was just going through the motions, rather than giving a performance...
...upset about her dwarf son Chris, 2, until Rimoin arranged for her to meet a dwarf couple with the opposite problem - their normal-sized daughter was embarrassed by them. The meeting helped breach the isolation that so often surrounds dwarfs and their families. "We're saving a scrapbook for Chris, cutting out any newspaper stories we can find concerning little people," says Mrs. Figone. "We want him to know that he's not alone...
...corps, and it applied to the readers, who had a sense of common participation in human events that nothing else could provide-until the advent of TV. From the start, LIFE took hold of the imagination. Its editors could have been content to let it remain a national scrapbook, but at its heart there was an animal curiosity. As Photographer John Dominis said, "You worked closely with people, individual friends, for three or four weeks, perhaps sometimes three or four months, on a story. They became almost like wartime buddies...
...idea held most fiercely by Martin's father, a printer, is that his huge son should get an education. Summer school. Not a chance, says Martin. No. Enn-oh. His father berates him as he hulks placidly over his body-building scrapbook. No notice. His father pinches his vast upper arm. Nothing. Finally, driven round the bend by love and exasperation, Martin's father thwacks him with a rolled-up newspaper...