Word: spread
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Dates: during 2000-2000
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...week to practice and entertain. "I come down here because I enjoy connecting with people. This is my labor of love, this music. When I am playing and I see people reacting and feeling my music, that is the ultimate high," he describes. "I come down here to spread love, music, and positive vibes." The self-taught musician narrates a true story in which his music moved a woman deeply in the tunnels. After noticing that she had let four or five trains pass by, Wright finally stopped and talked to the woman only to discover that the sobbing passenger...
...still lack an academic structure that studies ethnicity in America," Tri M. Phuong '02 explained, saying Cultural Rhythms was an ideal time to spread the ethnic studies message...
People like Revere are what Gladwell calls Connectors. He groups them with Mavens (info freaks) and Salesmen (good persuaders) as the types who spread data the way the most engageable boys and girls spread venereal disease: fast. Gladwell plays Connector in the world of ideas. He links the company that makes Gore-Tex fabric, and which starts a new plant every time an old one has more than roughly 150 workers, with the Hutterites, the religious sect that splits off a new community every time an existing one approaches the same number. This would be a "So what?" coincidence...
...maybe something he was? This is the kind of thing that Malcolm Gladwell, a staff writer for the New Yorker, thinks about in The Tipping Point (Little, Brown; 279 pages; $24.95), a somersaulting exercise in social theory that tries to explain how ideas and trends are spread. Like germs, is Gladwell's answer. Hush Puppies and Big Bird, hypodermics and Republicanism--every notion and product can catch on in ways that resemble medical contagions. The most explosive are set off when very effective carriers spread very potent strains in very conducive settings. And in these social outbursts, Gladwell tells...
Becky Weed rarely lays eyes on a coyote as she goes about tending her sheep on Thirteen Mile Farm outside Belgrade, Mont. But at night in her 135-year-old house on the edge of the spread, she can clearly hear the yips and howls of the scruffy predators echoing across the meadows. Were it not for an unusual four-legged critter of her own, the coyotes would have a field day devouring her 240 ewes and lambs...