Word: wifely
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1990-1999
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...doctor suggested surgery. Grove continued reading. "If this wasn't your life here," his wife said to him one morning as he pored over charts, "I'd say you were having fun." Well, Grove was kind of having fun--his scientific mind was engaged by the prostate-cancer research. A second doctor offered another opinion: radiation-seed therapy. Grove kept reading. "You know," says Eva, "I was surprised by how he reacted to the disease. Normally he's a baby. Anytime someone has a headache, he's saying, 'Oh, it's cancer.' But this time it really was cancer...
Grove is not all work: he skis, bikes with his wife Eva, listens to opera. He occasionally breaks out into a wild, disjointed boogie (his kids call it groving instead of grooving and recall the time Eva snapped her ankle on their shag carpet as the two danced to the sound track of Hair). The dance step is typical: Grove is a passionate, if disjointed man. He is a famously tough manager who, late at night, can still fill Intel's offices with a rolling laugh. He is a man who lost most of his hearing when he was young...
...couldn't, if they said 'Write your name,' I couldn't write it down." He became Andras Malesevics. The Grofs, mother and son, living on stolen papers, pretended to be acquaintances of a Christian family. "They took us in at a very serious risk to themselves," he says. His wife Eva glances across the table, uncertain about this new territory Andy is wandering into. "What happened to them?" she asks. "Did you lose contact with them?" He pauses. Shakes his head. "I don't know. We didn't know them that well, you know. That's the strange thing." Quiet...
...also in love. His wife Eva, a refugee herself, recalls their first meeting at a New Hampshire resort where they both worked in the summer of 1957--he as a busboy, she as a waitress. Eva recalls the encounter ("He had a bad accent, even though he doesn't think so!") as a lightning bolt: "I walked into this room, and there were a bunch of guys. One shook my hand, and it was, you know, like shaking a limp fish. But then there was this really good-looking guy who shook my hand, and I was just like...
This time around Gillett is taking precautions, separating his various ventures so that a mishap in one can't pull down the others. Running ski resorts has become a family affair, with Gillett drawing on the active participation of his wife Rose and their four sons, ages 22 to 27. Still, he confides his weakness for sometimes moving too fast and buying too much. "I've lived my dreams, but then I blow them up." How comforting that must be to his bond holders...