Word: surfed
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...Although the President carried his three-inch-thick briefing book as he padded to the beach in white bathing trunks Easter Monday, he mostly ignored it. Instead, he tried some broken-field running, using a coconut as a surrogate football, then exhibited a leisurely overhand crawl through the Pacific surf. The scene seemed reminiscent of the pictures from 1966 that purported to show Chairman Mao, then 72, swimming vigorously in the Yangtze River. During their day and two nights in the 50th state (they stop in the 49th, Alaska, this week), Reagan and Nancy chatted with Actors Jim Nabors (Gomer...
...took David campaigning with him. On June 4, 1968, the day of the California primary, Bobby took his son swimming in the surf off Malibu. A strong undertow seized the twelve-year-old and drew him out toward open water. Bobby Kennedy swam after the boy and saved...
...going during the last few weeks of March. Once it was imminent though, I was faced with the difficult decision of what to do with my week off. Most of my friends were pushing Florida, and after slogging through my third miserable New England winter, the prospect of sun, surf, and bronzed bodies was enticing. The problem that remained, however, was how to get down there...
...flop up on Manhattan's in salubrious shores, where a quick education in paranoia, cynicism and the perils of materialism has ever been available to out-of-towners. For from that unpromising situation emerges a romantic comedy that is as salty and bracing as a plunge in the surf. Whenever Daryl Hannah, as the sweetly shallow creature from the deep, and Tom Hanks, as the produce merchant who loves her, start to get goopy, there is a New York City street person available to assert the reality principle: Eugene Levy, splendid as a mad scientist who seems to have...
...simultaneously high and low points involve hitting the dirt: at the southern end of the airport compound, snipers are as close as 150 yds., and incoming grenades and light rockets occasionally fall near by. At night it is cool and damp. The lush sound of the Mediterranean surf is punctuated by the regular whump of outgoing mortar rounds aimed into the Chouf foothills and, every ten minutes or so, the clatter of a Lebanese Army .50-cal. machine gun firing at Druze militiamen and their allies. Each morning before 8 a.m. the troops finish breakfast (eggs to order, French toast...