Word: shawled
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...inspired planned it differently. The plane from Vienna bearing Herzl's body was met at the Lydda airport by an honor guard of Israeli soldiers, sailors and air force men holding aloft gleaming, unsheathed sabers. The metal coffin, encased in a wooden box and covered with a prayer shawl, was placed on a black bier and carried to a catafalque on the Mediterranean Promenade of Tel Aviv. At dawn a 300-car cortege followed the coffin to a hill outside Jerusalem which had been renamed the Givat Herzl (Herzl's Hill). In groups of ten, farmers, workers, businessmen...
...recovered at once; the archbishop himself was paying a visit that day. Police Chief Luis Proafio forbade all cars to leave the village, went out to search with Padre Leon. Some miles down the road, they were hailed by a man standing with his face half hidden in a shawl. It was Angel Sanchez, asking for a lift...
...which is in the Soviet sector, burly, hard-faced German cops of East Berlin's Communist-run police force hovered ominously on the edges of the crowd, eyeing the people as coldly as though they were a new consignment of concentration-camp inmates. An old Hausfrau with a shawl over her head stared defiantly back. Most passengers just waited in uneasy silence alongside their battered suitcases. These people were not running away. On their way to see relatives in the West, or to transact long-delayed business, they all expected to return...
...appointed day at 5:30 p.m. Velio Spano, in a natty brown double-breasted suit, crossed the little piazza in front of the church and entered the hall. A minute later Father Lombardi arrived, his face muffled in a black shawl. The contestants smilingly shook hands and took their seats behind a red table on the theater's stage. In the audience their supporters, divided by the middle aisle, sat quietly on seats marked with their names in big letters. As the seconds checked their watches, Father Lombardi murmured to Spano: "When Communism falls-as I'm sure...
Guided by Author Fenwick's inflexible hand, the common man may well proceed to great rewards. The chief reward: being safe from snubs. Author Fenwick deplores "fake fireplaces filled with a fake coal fire, lighted by electricity," deprecates "a shawl on the piano" and " 'popup' cigarette boxes , . . decorated with a scotty or a nude." But she shows that her judgment has less to do with taste than with fashion when she advocates "tables made of old painted tin trays on a modern stretcher base" and "odd saucers of Lowestoft china ... as ashtrays...