Word: white
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...take the revolutionaries seriously. So they took us seriously when we were only dealing with symbols. They sent Dartmouth students to jail for 30 days, and they fired on young people in Berkeley with shotguns filled with buckshot and birdshot and rock salt, and they killed one man--a white man. Black men died in colleges before, at Orangeburg last year and before and since. But then they killed a white man, which was turning against their own. The game is over now. While it lasted, it was our own, what we did, our education, our exhilaration. They said...
...died and was temporarily replaced by "folk music," à la early Dylan. Now that the excesses of the Gilded Age of psychedelia have become boring, the same thing is going on, with a revival of Country music. But just as the purist's folk music (Lonnie Johnson; Bukka White, Sleepy John Estes) never quite made it in '62, it is unlikely that anything you might hear on somebody's front steps in Kentucky can make it now. Music has gone too far in other directions to simply accept a traditional form as complete. The results of polarization will undoubtedly...
Lawn tennis had withstood the vicissitudes of the war better than any other sport, and as spring returned, undergrads pulled on their white flannel trousers for a quick set on the windy afternnoons...
...Class of 1919 did have its April smoker, however, with long rows of wooden tables on the second floor of the Union and plates of cheese and pretzels. The Class Committee showed Douglas Fairbanks' "He comes Up Smiling" on a wrinkled white sheet hung at the end of the living room. Sendel's Jazz Band rendered selections on request...
...touched her toes--a population problem and bad art." Of civilization, power, and Caracas, "through another of our cities without a center, as hideous as Los Angeles, and with as many cars per head, and past the 20-foot neon sign for Coppertone on a Church. . .on to the White House of El Presidente Leoni, his small men with 18-inch repeating pistols. . .while we had champagne. . ." Lowell sees through to the surreal dimension, his own eye "sprouting bits of string gliding like dragonkites in the Chinese...