Word: sheltering
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Summoned home after a 20-year absence to underwrite these marriages, Andrew is most concerned that Barbara should be squandering her high passion on the Salvation Army. He agrees to see her shelter if she and Cusins will visit his cannon works. At the shelter, we meet sycophantic derelicts, ruffians and pitiably broken men. But it is Undershaft who nonchalantly breaks Barbara's heart, and opens her eyes. He signs a check for ?5,000, matching a sum from a notorious distiller named Bodger, so that the Salvation Army shelters may stay open. When the Army's general...
Institutionalized twice for mental care since he was 17, Hansen is demanding $250,000 in compensatory damages and $100,000 in punitive damages because, he claims, his parents neglected his needs for "food, clothing, shelter and psychological support." He also alleges that his parents, both scientists employed at Boulder's National Center for Atmospheric Research, not only tried "to channel me in the direction they wanted me to go" but also "spent nothing for what I wanted, nothing on music...
...defiance of Palestinian mortar attacks by "telling jokes and bawdy stories" and keeping their children preoccupied by their frenzied-like laughter, singing and dancing to Hebrew tunes. But the nearby explosions eventually cause their defenses to crumble, and Feldstein describes scenes of "dazed kibbutzniks" huddled stiffly in a bomb shelter...
...middle-aged German Jew, especially frightened because he has lived through such nightmares before, fears that PLO terrorists could sneak into the kibbutz during the night and massacre us as we huddle in the shelters. He decides to stand guard outside the shelter for most of the night.... At the height of the explosions, which are now shaking the kibbutz and drowning out even the loudest singing, the group bursts into a Hebrew chorus of a tune that sounds familiar to me. It is "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" --a vestige of some long-ago childhood memories...
...pack my father's old Boy Scout knapsack with my belongings, I am still wearing the clothes I slept in last night in the bomb shelter. Yona walks me to the dirt road where I will catch a ride away from the border toward Haifa and my new kibbutz. Yona's forehead is deeply-lined, and there are circles under his eyes; the war has been hard on him, too. It is hard not to admire the courage of the Israelis like him, who sacrifice so much for their cause...