Word: training
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...refer to the matter of sound effects, where the director has out-Wildered Wilder--and I bet the playwright would applaud. While there are many things that Wilder does not want us to see, he does want us to hear them. Some of these are distant--like a whistling train, a factory work-whistle, and chirping crickets on a moonlit night. Others, however, are on-stage things that are wholly imaginary--like the milkman's horse and his clanking bottles, and Mr. Webb's lawnmower...
...rider should have. "These riders are as solid as any athlete in any sport," he said, "You won't find any soft people pooping around on a horse. Riders engage in a good deal of running and they go out daily on anywhere from two to four horses to train. Oftentimes in the steeplechase a rider will dismount and run beside his or her horse. There is no sport I know of which demands as much presence of mind as in the horse trials...
...rehabilitation succeeds no better than the prison which leaves its inmates to rot." Succeeds, that is, in reducing the huge number of repeat offenders (70% of inmates). Improved behavior inside the walls turns out to be no indication of behavior after prison. As Mattick says, "It is hard to train an aviator in a submarine...
...this theory is right, too, even if most of Harvard's graduates end up comfortable, secure, and untroubled by the mundane economic woes that affect their comparatively uncultured subordinates--victims, at most, of a quiet kind of desperation. Harvard does train staffers for the corporate state--business executives, lawyers who work for them and act charming and liberal out in the suburbs. Henry A. Kissinger '50 who bombs islands and hospitals to show that the United States is tough. For the people who get bombed or who work under the executives' direction, the theory that stresses this aspect of Harvard...
...smell of pine cut into my sleep in the late afternoon and I could hear the truck whining against a steep incline. I pushed open the back gate and the Sierra Nevada, red in the setting sun, passed by like a slow-moving train. The forest was hypnotic, nothing moved out there in the dark green silence. Darkness came in from the east, and falling back to sleep, I wondered what it was like in the Far East to have the morning sun come up over the Pacific, to have the mountains cast their shadow over the west...