Word: silver
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...most gripping sequence in the movie involves a painfully drawn out demonstration of Jerome's, not Vincent's, force of will. It is also Jerome's final act, in a ghostly mirroring of Vincent's, that saves the ending from outright banality; the image he leaves--of a silver medal flushed to gold--is arresting, if not terribly subtle. However, Jerome remains a shadowy figure, more a conceptual foil than a full-bodied character...
...speech at the Harvard Education Forum last night, education reform expert Dr. James P. Comer criticized "silver bullet solutions" to educational problems and stressed the need for a deeper, long-term reform effort...
...pianist who plays Deep Purple and the waitresses have names like Agnes and Gladys and the menu harks back to the Age of Steak; a place where a fiftyish couple can enjoy a Manhattan and tuck into a chunk of cow and au gratin potato. Murray's serves the Silver Butter Knife Steak for Two. That's the special, and it's been around since I was learning to read--I saw it advertised on billboards around town. I'd form the words MURRAY'S and SILVER BUTTER KNIFE STEAK phonetically, and say them aloud as we passed...
...have gone back about once every three or four years, and the magic seems never to wear off, the sight of the pink drapes, the mirrors, the candelabrum sconces, the red plush chairs, the candles flickering on the white linen--it still elates me, the Silver Butter Knife feels like a bright sword in my hand. And last year I returned with four old friends and my wife Jenny. It was one of the happiest nights I can remember, everyone yakking and laughing, eating steak, drinking a big booming red wine, feeling flush and lovable. And then I went back...
...exalted and now is gone forever--the Burlington Zephyr and the North Coast Limited, the New Yorker of my youth, Memorial Stadium where we spent Saturday afternoons cheering for the Golden Gophers, the Earle Brown farm that was turned into a mall and a subdivision--I think of the SILVER BUTTER KNIFE STEAK FOR TWO, looming above me on a billboard, our car stopped at a red light on Lyndale Avenue in 1952, the Bible on my lap open to Ecclesiastes, my head anointed with Wildroot hair oil, and I feel restored. Some glories remain. You for sure...