Word: smiled
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...Congress, discusses his hopes to run as an AIP candidate for president and Congress simultaneously in November. A reporter from the Boston Globe raises the possibility that such a move might be illegal. Rarick looks puzzled and says he hasn't considered that. Another question. Busing. Ah yes! A smile. If Catholics and Protestants were to be successfully bused in Northern Ireland, Arabs and Israelis in the Mid-East, and Turks and Greeks on Cyprus--then Rarick might consider accepting busing in this country...
Aldo would have had a terrible time capturing the mouth, I am sure. Within an arc of less than, say, 30 degrees, that mouth can convey every important feeling in the politician's guidebook. At the top of the arc, there is a smile that fairly breathes a grandfatherly benevolence. A shade below that, there's an omni-purpose politician's grin. At the middle of the arc, Al's smile turns into a squarely set, unrehearsed-looking deadpan, suitable for framing and hanging in a standup comics' Hall of Fame. And at the bottom of the arc, there...
...know if Al was born this way. It hardly matters. Because everything that is successful in local politics, a big first-name constituency, the ability to make people smile and think you are someone who'll listen to their worries, the ready handshake and the meaningful wink, seem to have been inborn or ingrained in Al, and it all works to his benefit. (I had a dream the other night in which Al figured prominently. I dreamt that, when he was born 61 years ago in East Cambridge, where he still lives, the infant Al Vellucci raised his hand...
...interview? Come on over tonight, we're having lasagna dinner at city hall and, oh yes, there might be some special Vellucci brand homemade wine. It may not be the accepted panacea for all your political ills, but, in Al's mind, you can get pretty far with a smile and a glass of homemade wine. I'd like to taste the stuff sometime; our mayor has gotten more political mileage with homemade wine than a Chevette gets on a tank of Amoco supreme...
...right to feel lonely; when he crudely but movingly divulges to Ann his haunting memories of first seeing his mother naked, she doesn't even lift the pen from her shopping list. But the actor, Michel Peyrelon, possesses the kind of jowly, hugemouthed face that turns even a wounded smile into a leer, and when he finally holds Veronique's passive head on his shoulder, patting her hair and closing his eyes, his emotional wince seems to say stupidly "God, I'm sensitive, God, I'm sensitive." (If you've ever seen Anthony Newley sing "What Kind of Fool...