Word: missed
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Dates: during 1980-1980
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...vehicle for this where-are-they-now exercise is an Agatha Christie mystery about a director and a star (Hudson and Taylor), who are married. They descend on Miss Marple's village, circa 1953, there to take up residence while working on a movie intended as the star's comeback after a miscarriage and a nervous breakdown. One of the locals is murdered at a reception they give, and a little later the director's secretary succumbs in unpleasant circumstances. Miss Marple, the spinster sleuth-played agreeably by Lansbury in a more subdued style than...
...victor's formidable mother, Miss Lillian, was freely available at the old railroad depot, dispensing her startling wit and candor. His brother Billy was cheerfully posing for snapshots at the gas pump, permanent beer can ominously poised. Even the President-elect and his wife were visible, making occasional forays to greet childhood friends or to eat at the nearest restaurants-every forkful watched for significance by a merciless post-Watergate press corps. A sizable slice of the citizenry willingly guided the influx of strangers round the sites-Jimmy's birthplace, his country home, his father's simple...
...local commercialism, or maybe even advice from his pollsters to down-play the small-town Southern roots in favor of a homogenized national image. Certainly a home visit was a summons to pushing crowds, at least half newsmen; and resident family members found it increasingly impossible to appear downtown. (Miss Lillian: "They all wanted to touch me, and if there's anything I hate, it's being hugged and kissed by a woman.") But the peculiarly economical and decorous motions of a farming community, miles from any city, continued. And the splendid flat landscape of fields, thickets...
...kids goodbye. Stop for a red light. 7:55. A city full of female legs: walking, running, bicycling, escalatoring. Hands hail a cab, finger a watch, exchange coins for coffee. The coffee spills on her new pumps. 8:50. Speed-read the morning paper, run for the elevator, just miss it. One pert, frazzled woman checks a scrawled address, enters the anonymous skyscraper, ascends to her new job. The elevator doors open, then begin to close. She realizes that this is her floor and dashes through the doors...
...College Exchange, of which Wellesley is a member. "Because Wellesley is single-sex and so isolated, everyone wants to get away at one time or another," says Jordan, who will probably spend next year at the University of California at Berkeley. "Wellesley is too mellow for me; I miss the 'real' college atmosphere of frats, football games and parties," she says...