Word: skins
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Next day the hand was hot and so swollen it seemed ready to burst. The surgeons cut gashes in the skin between the fingers and down the back of the hand, and applied strong salt compresses to draw the fluid out. Very smart, said the U.S. surgeons in their critique. The swelling subsided within a week. After two months the metal plate was removed, but the bones were healing poorly, so the surgeons packed in bone chips as a sort of cement...
...being shown on Manhattan's Seventh Avenue that next spring had better be a warm one. Versions of Dior's diving neckline (TIME, Sept. 13) abound. Girls who, for one reason or another, cannot get away with that vertiginous plunge have the option to swoop the skin in back. By day, fashion follows the mid-century's other architectural foible-concealing the awkward infrastructure with artificially streamlined simplicity. The result: straight-up-and-down suits with that covered-up, curtain-wall look...
Harvard Astronomer Fred Whipple explained that the low penetrating power of most meteoroids is partly due to their fluffy structure. Even very small meteoroids, Whipple said, are probably loosely bound clumps of much smaller particles. They may be half as dense as water, so when they hit the skin of a spacecraft they spread their effect over a larger area than if they were solid...
...cuts and bruises, a few lost teeth and a few broken ribs. That's all." Last season Minneapolis' South Side All-Stars lost 18 out of 40 men, two to broken legs, four to broken collarbones and twelve to "leg punctures"-caused by football cleats penetrating skin and muscle. But no matter. In nine seasons, Linebacker Walter ("Shorty") Sullivan of the Charlestown Townies has dislocated a shoulder, torn a knee cartilage and lost most of his visible front teeth. At 30, he still plays. "It relieves my tensions," he says...
...with its lofty restaurant-lounge, he gives only occasional thought to die Flucht-the flight before the Russians 18 years ago-and other hideous memories of an early era. On Berlin's Kudamm, which Christopher Isherwood would never recognize, Germans twist-and twist and twist-though they live skin-close to the Communists. In Hamburg, Max Schmeling is proud of his gleaming Coca-Cola bottling plant, where he arrives each morning like any other businessman. On the same street, kids hurry off to school, blissfully ignorant of Schmeling or Hitler or Bismarck. Then from every window appears that national...