Word: wente
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...worst moments last week, Bush looked not so much like Clinton, who was re-elected, but like his father, who wasn't. George Sr. had an expression that went like this: If you're so damned smart, how come you aren't President of the United States? That cockiness surfaced like a genetic code in his son's handling of the drug questions. Even some aides who privately wished he would put the rumors to rest were convinced they'd be slapped down if they suggested it. "The lasting damage to Bush is not that now everyone thinks...
...even questions about rumors of drug use from an unelected press corps that has its own skeletons. His approach was harder to pull off: raise the bar, create a zone of privacy, don't fall into the trap of trying to prove a negative. The problem is that Bush went about his nondisclosure selectively. In a political age when biography is destiny, Bush has not exactly clammed up on personal matters, detailing over time his history as a drinker, his religious conversion, his fidelity to his wife Laura. It amounts to saying that when it comes to electing a President...
...international movement of young people, many of them pacifists who don't get high or sleep around and would never dream of calling themselves gang members. Even Utah's nonviolent Straight Edgers, who constitute the vast majority of the state's several hundred members, are clueless as to what went wrong here...
...relationship with Mom improved, my dad and I had knock-down-and-drag-outs over her treatment. He and the doctor wanted her in a hospital. She wanted to die at home. Dad wouldn't, couldn't pay for round-the-clock nurses. Part-time aides came and went, unable to take the hours and the unrelenting attention Mom needed. After she had a tracheotomy and required a tube down her throat, I had to learn how to apply suction to the tube when she felt the saliva backing up--a procedure most of the aides were either unable...
...being near family is what's important for the elderly when they live alone in a distant city. But I still wonder whether my dad's move wasn't the worst thing I could have done to him. I ripped him away from his foundations: from the pub he went to three times a week, the bus route he knew even blind, the house he could navigate in the dark, the newspaper that chronicled men he knew in the Jaycees, the people he had built houses and warehouses...