Word: spooning
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...trial lawyer with side interests in Democratic politics. Writing poetry was another sideline. His friend, Publisher William Marion Reedy of Reedy's Mirror, refused several of his contributions, but accepted from one "Lester Ford" some subjective epitaphs on imaginary dwellers in an imaginary Illinois town called Spoon River. This "joke" was the beginning of the Spoon River Anthology. But before Spoon River waxed famous, Poet Masters adopted another pseudonym, "Elmer Chubb," and contributed to Reedy's Mirror many fine-sounding sonnets chanting the praises of William Jennings Bryan, the Anti-Saloon League and Mary Garden. When critics took the Spoon...
...cook stirring gravy to keep it from scorching in the skillet is done in two minutes and backs off blinking, sweating and choking, having finished the hardest job of getting dinner. But my hardest job lasts not two minutes but the better part of half an hour. My spoon weighs 25 pounds, my porridge is pasty iron and the heat of my kitchen is so great that if my body was not hardened to it the ordeal would drop me in my tracks. ... I am like some frantic baker in the inferno kneading a batch of iron bread...
...never could understand the line Oswald has taken. He was born with a gold spoon in his mouth-it cost a ?100 doctor fee to bring him into the world. He has lived on the fat of the land and never did a day's labor in his life. He had the best education and money was spent on him galore. If he and his wife want to go in for labor why don't they do a bit of work themselves or why doesn't Lady Cynthia sell her pearls for the Smethwick poor...
...warden had the box on his desk. He showed it with an ironic comment to his visitor. Once the box had contained Prince Albert tobacco; now its contents were more interesting. A little rubber sack. A hypodermic needle. A broken spoon. An envelope of morphin. . . . Drug peddlers, delivering narcotics to prisoners on the island, do not always drop their orders from the bridge. An ordinary postoffice envelope, embossed with the head of George Washington, has a hollow behind the raised stamp...
...time comes for his injection. Sometimes he has a hard time finding a place to take it; he goes into a hotel washroom, a taxicab, even a telephone booth. Out of his pocket comes a piece of candle. He wants to sterilize his injection. He puts water in a spoon, heats it over the candle, dissolves his morphin, filters the solution through cotton, fills his needle, injects. It is to him a holy ritual. He is happiest when he has an acolyte; someone who wants to try dope-to watch the slow fire of rot filter through the novice...