Word: smilingly
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...state probably would have had a tidy case against Peeler, but Snead was murdered before he could testify who had shot at him. That left only one witness, a third-grader whose smile was sunny and persistent, who should have had no cares but to tell his jokes and read a favorite book, Double Trouble in Walla Walla. Instead, B.J. agreed to tell authorities what he knew about guns and blood. Prosecutors planned to call him as the key witness in what was now to be Peeler's murder trial...
...here I come dangerously close to becoming just one more plaintive voice in the cacophony of reading period dismay. Rather, we should all try to put our troubles in the back of our minds, and face life with--if not a smile and a wink--at least a silent stoicism. Towards that end, we need only look to the oft-neglected outside world for ever-present reminder that things could certainly be a whole lot worse...
DIED. JERRY QUARRY, 53, Hall of Fame boxer; of pneumonia; in Templeton, Calif. Though he never won the heavyweight title, the popular pugilist, whom opponent Joe Frazier called the "good-looking Irish kid with a nice smile," put up decent fights against many of the greats, including Floyd Patterson and Muhammad Ali. In recent years he was incapacitated by dementia and a loss of motor skills resulting from repeated blows to the head during his three-decade career...
...other, will have the same effect. A hint of nostalgic, anti-academic languor at this stage as well may match the grader's own mood: "It seems more than obvious to one entangled in the petty quibbles of contemporary Medievalists--at times, indeed, approaching the ludicrous--that smile as we may at its follies, or denounces its barbarities, the truly monumental achievements of the Middle Ages have become too vast for us to cope with, or even understand; we are too small and too afraid." Let me offer this as an ideal opening sentence to any question even tangentially nudging...
...title, a sly gibe at John Updike, Rabbit at Rest and all the other Rabbits, is worth a smile. Here, McMurtry's Duane Moore, 62, rich, beset by family and bored to a frazzle, flummoxes his Texas town by ditching his pickup truck and walking everywhere. The book is within cat-kicking distance of funny. Real guys don't walk, not in Thalia, Texas. The trouble is that Duane, wambling hero of The Last Picture Show and Texasville, is actually becalmed. He has lost the happy soul's gift of reality avoidance. So too with McMurtry, usually an inspired melodramatist...