Word: thicketed
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...second of the five children of a Southern Railway locomotive engineer who retired, after a 1901 head-on collision, to his 250-acre family farm in rolling Orange County. There, near the tiny village of Locust Grove on the Chancellorsville battlefield, just four miles from the Wilderness thicket where Stonewall Jackson was mortally wounded by his own men, Lindsay Almond grew up. Lindsay did farm chores, worked nights with his mother at the kitchen table, learned to read and write even before he trudged off for the first time to the little white school a mile away...
...mangrove islands to the sea. Suddenly, a blinding spotlight blazed through the mist. The U.S. border patrol cutter Douglas C. Shute roared alongside and two agents leaped to the Harpoon's slippery deck yelling: "Keep her on course!" As a defiant helmsman slammed the Harpoon into a mangrove thicket, uniformed Cuban revolutionaries poured from the cabin. One tried to fire his submachine gun, failed only because the clip was in backwards; another exploded a defective hand grenade, blowing off a finger. The rest purpled the air with curses...
Food for the Poets. Beating their way through this thicket of conflicting interests, the movers and shakers of the General Assembly were steadily working their way toward a resolution as bland as porridge. At week's end the compromise most likely to succeed appeared to be a Norwegian resolution that-in suitably vague terms-would authorize U.N. Secretary General Dag Hammarskjold to "make the U.N. presence felt" in Lebanon and Jordan as a prelude to withdrawal of U.S. and British forces...
...Shoot proved to be a hamlet in the middle of a swampy, oil-rich wooded area known as the "Big Thicket." Its 194 inhabitants claim that "if you stand around long enough, you'll get cut; if you try to run, you'll get shot." The city-slicker writers found Roy a quiet, soft-spoken schoolteacher and ex-Army lieutenant living in a modern cottage on the Harris farm. Roy told them he was part Indian (Cherokee) and "I want to prove that I am a fighter and not a myth." They all dutifully wrote that down...
Columbia Records, no slouch at thicket-hunting, bagged its latest prize in its own doorway. Barbara Eichbauer, 23, is a statuesque suburbanite who wandered into Manhattan looking for an advertising job and wound up instead as a Columbia receptionist. She had once done a little singing at a local inn back in Forest Hills, N.Y., and confided to fellow workers that she happened to have a privately made recording. Just about that time, Orchestra Leader Percy Faith, one of Columbia's stable, was looking for a young unvarnished voice to go with a young unvarnished song called What...