Word: tracee
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...trace this political transformation, TIME set out to find a woman who could tell the story of this election by telling the story of her life. Lori Lucas lives in Shrewsbury, Missouri, an undecided voter in a bellwether town in the ultimate swing state. She is not just an archetype; she's a revelation, a spirited wreck of political contradiction. She's an unmarried mom who thinks the country is on the wrong track because the family unit has broken down. She drives a gas-guzzling station wagon because it's safe but worries so much about the environment that...
...that would actually blow up, they did contain chemicals such as PETN and RDX, both of which are building blocks for plastic explosives. The FBI says the packages were removed at the end of the tests, but the exercise could have left debris that may "possibly relate to the trace residues previously identified" on parts of the plane. Indeed, the PETN found on the floor of the passenger section and the RDX found at the back of the rear cargo compartment of the destroyed plane have been baffling investigators because neither deposit bears any evidence of "observable bomb damage" that...
...opportunity stares so baldly at passing wanderers that they run away, rushing off to buy illusions, to believe that things aren't really as bad as they seem. It's a place where there has been so little, for so long, that you cannot walk through it without some trace of its shabby residue getting caught on your clothes, your papers or your ambition. But Out There was the last place where this woman could talk with her daughter. Now, it seems, she watches helplessly over a transformation she feels powerless to prevent...
...injected her with a drug called TPA, which dissolved the clot and quickly re-established normal blood flow to her brain. Phillips recovered so completely, in fact, that it seemed as if the stroke had never happened. She left the hospital after four days, her speech normal and any trace of paralysis gone...
...shops in Iowa and New Hampshire, and dozens of us capture a politician talking to a single petrified farmer or shopkeeper or housewife. And every word that candidate utters has been polled and market-tested until nothing fresh remains. We brought conventions into living rooms across America, and every trace of honest disagreement, every hint of personal eccentricity has long since been banished from the halls. We throw floodlights into the press rooms after debates, and the comments are so meaningless that if one of the candidates pummeled a nun to the ground and stole her purse, we would hear...