Word: wanderlusters
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Donald Fleming, Crimson freshman and New Haven native, brought his basketball playing skills to Cambridge this year; but after last night's outstanding performance in Harvard's 83-71 victory over Yale at the IAB, New Haven residents probably wish Fleming had never succumbed to wanderlust, leaving home in search of Crimson hardwoods...
...gods and rule through the cooking pot. But the Flounder, "like a swimming newspaper," gives man the crucial information that begins male domination: fire can also be used to smelt metal from rock, and metal can be forged into spearheads and axes. Thus is born man's wanderlust, his will to strive and conquer, his ability to make myths and reason to tragic absurdities. It is history's first chapter. In the second chapter, the power of the breast and the soup pot go underground...
...interesting evening (and an escape from Cambridge), you might take the T into Boston and wander around town before choosing a restaurant. Chinatown and the North End (Boston's Italian district) are particularly good places to practice restaurant wanderlust on a low budget...
DIED. Will Geer, 76, protest-minded character actor who capped a long career with his portrayal of the blustery grandfather in television's homespun series, The Waltons; of heart disease; in Los Angeles. Wanderlust led the young Geer to riverboat theater, the Shakespearean stage and the bright lights of Broadway (Of Mice and Men, Tobacco Road). Blacklisted in the McCarthy era, he pursued an interest in botany with a book on the 1,000 plants in Shakespeare's plays and a repertory theater in Topanga Canyon, Calif, called the Theatricum Botanicum, where he continued to hold workshops...
Like the trailing aftermath of a tremendous fireworks display, we poured off the bus, into "Red Sox Country", already sunburnt and still cooking, consuming all our worries and frustrations in a wanderlust inferno. June and her road chum went to a bar to get drunk, the retired amateur golfers hauled themselves over to the Holiday Inn, and I was suddenly alone again, hitching up the road to the Red Sox training camp at Chain-O-Lakes Park out on Cypress Boulevard, where the Boston sportswriters were furiously clucking away at their plastic portable typewriters with half-crazed treachery written...