Word: walke
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...thank the man who recorded what Lyndon Johnson told Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew of Singapore: "You rode the tiger. We shall" [Oct. 27]. I believe Asians respect and recognize backbone, when Americans are courageous enough to walk beyond courage, to deface false bravery, to stretch our guts and show backbone, not only our backside...
Despite the recent relaxation, life in the Soviet Union has a boring and sometimes even a brutish quality. Outside his home, the Russian cannot walk, sit clown or breathe without seeing a slogan, a flag, a statistic, a portrait of Lenin, a piece of heroic Soviet statuary. He is rarely allowed to tour outside the Soviet Union by himself, even in other socialist countries, and he must show an internal passport when he travels within his own country. A Russian spends much of his free time standing in queues, where he must push and heave to defend his place. Partly...
Gone are the days when small chil dren played contentedly with featureless rag dolls. Today's vogue is for realism, and toymakers now turn out dolls that can walk, talk, cry and even wet. When Frank Caplan, general manager of Creative Playthings, Inc., spotted a French doll called Petit Frere at Nürnberg's doll fair last March, he jumped at the opportunity to buy up distribution rights for the U.S. Renamed "Little Brother," the doll has a sweet angelic face, is, in fact, modeled after a Verrocchio Renaissance cherub in the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence...
...feed his ambition but to foil his asthma. He worked as an apprentice film cutter, sang on amateur nights at a club called The Horn. TV's Andy Griffith dropped by one night, liked his country-bumpkin patter between songs and offered him a walk-on role in his series. Nabors says he was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but Griffith assured him that "all I had to do was act like one of those fellows down home who sit around the gas pump reading comic books." Shucks, that was easy...
Next day, up in the rugged mountains of the interior, I walk into a coffee-shop for a shot of raki, the local brandy. A huge poster on the wall extols the "National Revolution" of the colonels. But above it, illuminated by a devotional oil lamp, like the holy icons, I see three photographs: E. Venizelos, the fiery Cretan liberal of the 1900's, John F. Kennedy, and George Papandreou! Gingerly, I steer the conversation into politics...