Word: sleeps
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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Women like Emily and Irma live by shibboleths learned in early youth: sleep with no woman and damn few men; he who rides a tiger must never get off; and, as the title indicates, he who sees the last blossom on the plum tree must pick it. Shakespeare was more succinct: ripeness is all, and so it proves with Emily. After meeting Carlo's ancient father, she is momentarily ( transformed into a radiant ideal: "beautiful, charming, intelligent, loving, and the perfect future Principessa Pontevecchio." Irma is another matter: abandoned by Charlie, she becomes one more foolish dowager...
...easily buffeted by the wind and needs constant piloting. Says Yeager: "It's a lot more exercise than you can imagine." The pilots' discomfort was heightened by the roar of the engines, which reached a noisy 105 decibels (louder than a lawnmower). As a result, neither flyer got much sleep during the first 36 hours...
...stared at the window, tapping her heel impatiently as the train came to a stop in between stations. The boy kept jabbing his friend just above his Jams shorts and the elderly man nodded off to sleep. A baby started crying and its mother wiped the perspiration from its brow. Through the thick air, the conductor announced, "We ah experiencing a delay. Sorry for the inconvenience. A train should be along soon to push us to Kendall...
When he was 23 and breaking into the entertainment world, Alan Jay Lerner kept to "a schedule so tight that it would only work if I didn't sleep on Monday nights." He wrote daily radio sketches for Celeste Holm and Alfred Drake, crafted material for Victor Borge and Hildegarde and contributed audio pageants to Cavalcade of America. Then one lunchtime at Manhattan's Lambs Club, where he hung around hoping to be noticed, a fortyish theater composer impulsively came up to his table. "You write good lyrics," said Frederick Loewe, who had heard Lerner's contributions to the club...
...widely read in Europe," says droll Danny). He tried Los Angeles ("I couldn't get arrested . . . or an agent") and came back East. But for a while in New York City, there was no house to call home. "I had no money and needed a place to sleep, so I'd ride the Third Avenue bus up to the Bronx, cross the street and ride back down to the Battery. Thanks to the transit authority, I was warm and toasty if I took a backseat, and I felt cloaked and protected by all the people...