I’m sort of reluctant to post this lest they track me down, but apparently I’m not only a lost alumna of the AYSP (Albuquerque Youth Symphony Program), but a lost alumna on the internet!
Please, don’t turn me in! I’d like to stay missing. I get enough monetary requests from old institutions as it is.
In the last Sallyport magazine, I noticed that one of the books reviewed was Rice Professor John Boles’ University Builder: Edgar Odell Lovett and the Founding of the Rice Institute. I decided almost immediately that I should read it, even though I was a little hesitant since it only listed availability through the publisher. It turned out to also be available on Amazon, so I bought one.
About a year ago at the library I happened to pick up Citizen: Jane Addams and the Struggle for Democracy, and the book ended up having deep resonance for me, only some of which I was able to express in the entry I wrote. University Builder has had similar impact and resonance for me. Addams and Lovett, although very different in background and personality, both created amazing institutions essentially by their own determination and effort, yet in their individual creation they also realized the emerging ideals and values of the times that surrounded them. I’m fascinated by stories of such accomplishments, and the people who make them.
By all accounts Lovett was an absolute giant of a man, charismatic, thoughtful, courteous, determined, optimistic, and visionary. Within only a few years, starting from nothing but an idea and a good chunk of money, he managed to create an internationally-known, first-tier American university. His experiences at the University of Virginia and Princeton and in Europe, at a time when academic life was moving forward from the classics into the modern realm, led him to conceptualize an ideal modern university very different from his undergraduate experience at a small college in West Virginia. The most fascinating part of the book is watching Lovett’s vision take shape as he moves up the faculty ladder at Princeton and is eventually invited to become Rice’s true founder (William Marsh Rice is probably more accurately labeled its benefactor) and first and longest-serving president.
Most Rice students know the story of the Grand Tour that inspired Lovett’s vision, and it’s interesting to see it laid out in detail, with a record of where he went and what he learned. The essential points to have come out of the tour still characterize Rice today: a unified architectural vision; emphasis on both research and teaching (Boles includes a quotation from Lovett to the effect that the person best equipped to lead another from ignorance to knowledge is a person engaged in leading himself similarly); egalitarian and inclusive student government and institutions, and a model of engagement with the broader community ( ‘beyond the hedges’, though there weren’t any hedges then — there’s a rather startling picture of the campus on the first matriculation day as an almost completely blank flat plain). The book also gives insight into William Marsh Rice and the initial and later trustees, people whose names are immortalized on the colleges and buildings: Will Rice, Hanszen, Wiess, Baker, and George R. Brown.
For anyone to whom Rice is a meaningful place, the story of its founding is likely to be both deeply moving and illuminating and sometimes unexpectedly funny. Julian Huxley, an early professor at Rice who lived in the ‘faculty tower’ (the present-day Will Rice College tower, if I understand the description correctly), wrote that the food was horrible. Anyone who experienced CK knows that that didn’t change for almost 90 years! The first dormitories didn’t even have screens to keep the mosquitos out until after the term had started. From the very earliest days of the intercollegiate athletics program, there have been serious concerns about the level of academic aptitude required from the athletes, and whether there is a bending of standards involved with running, most particularly, a successful football team.
The book left me with a much deeper understanding of Lovett’s vision for Rice and how difficult it has been to realize it through the varying circumstances of history, with Lovett steering Rice through the Depression and the two World Wars, and the board and later presidents now taking on the challenge of envisioning Rice’s second century. I was particularly touched by a photograph of the opening ceremonies, held in front of what is today called Lovett Hall, where the only difference between that day and the day I crossed a similar wooden platform to pick up my diploma seems to be that more people were wearing hats that day.
I still have concerns about whether Lovett’s vision will continue to be honored as the university moves into the 21st century, because of the increased pressure on finances and admissions, the apparent loss of appreciation of the quirky spirit that characterizes Rice in the race to stay in the ‘top tier’, and the increase in the university’s size. But University Builder left me oddly comforted on that score, simply by illustrating how complex it is to become and remain a leading university, and how much of it is dependent on the university remaining contemporary with the times in which it serves.
I’m guessing the crappy knicker thing with Nashbar was just a fluke, because I ordered some more stuff from them recently and it came today and everything looks great. The Cateye magnet works fine with the Cannondale computer I mysteriously either lost the magnet for or which was defectively packaged with no magnet. I also got another Delta Leonardo rack, so soon both bikes will be hung up out of the way. I’m tired of tripping on Meg all the time. And I gave in and got the tire tray too. I don’t think it’ll 100% save the wall, but it should help keep things stable and a bit cleaner. The Topeak Road Morph G mounted perfectly on my down tube — I just wish I hadn’t lost the first one I bought the day I bought it, but that’s entirely my own fault.
And the Nashbar brand thing I got, the Townie Baskets, look seriously awesome. They’re very sturdy-feeling and come with bright yellow raincovers (that store handily in a pocket on the bottom) and some velcro so you can keep them closed when they’re not in use! They look like they’ll work and hold up as well as the rack trunk, which I’ve been really happy with. They’ll be great for toodling around town, especially to the farmer’s market so I don’t have to stick everything in a backpack. Just fill some of my Monde Ami bags and drop them in the baskets.
My saddle soreness is clearing up nicely, if not instantly, and I got a couple kinds of ointment I saw recommended for soothing/prevention and will try to pick up some actual Chamois Butt’r before Sunday.
Minus the bump on my knee from the cabinet at work (owww), things are going pretty well, although I’m getting confused/frustrated by the suggestions in my training books and how picky they seem in some ways, so I’m sure there’ll be more about that later.
Well, the whole mileage plan was great in theory, but definitely not happening. There is both more and less soreness than I expected based on yesterday. I’m not staggering around on insanely sore thighs, but my whole body seems to be a bit sore from shoulders to feet, and my hands and saddle area are notably sore. I think I’m going to stay off the bike tomorrow to calm down the saddle issues. My fitness level is fine, but if I can’t sit I can’t ride, so letting that rest is more urgent. Today was 11 miles and should have been only 4, tomorrow 0, we’ll see after that.
I think I must be sitting asymmetrically somehow. It might be that one or more of my saddles is too wide or narrow, or else I’m just off. It’s very annoying; I haven’t really had significant chafing in the saddle area before, either after the NS Route Ride or last year’s Sequoia, so I wonder what’s up.
After wondering: It occurs to me that this is also the first time I’ve worn my really old shorts for a long ride. The other long rides I did, I was careful to wear my newer shorts that have fewer seams and better padding. That may be the real reason. Either way, staying off it tomorrow.
Ride route: Cedar St/Eaton Rd/Alameda, Edgewood, Cañada south to Woodside, Mountain Home Road to Portola, Portola to Alpine, Alpine becomes Santa Cruz into downtown Menlo Park. Pause in Menlo Park for lunch at Le Boulanger. (I think we stopped about 40 minutes.) After lunch I could have gone back home (total distance just over 20mi), but crazy me thought it would be nice to ride back to San Carlos with the rest of the group. So I did. We took the N-S Route with Redwood City Cutoff: Middlefield to Semicircular and through the neighborhoods to downtown RWC, then up Arguello and over to Old County into downtown San Carlos. Then back on Cedar/Eaton and Alameda to Valparaiso, cross El Camino, right on Laurel and home.
Total distance: 38.33 miles
Ride Time: 2:51
MXS: 29 mph (down Edgewood toward Canada)
AVS: 13.3 mph
General weather conditions: cloudy and light breeze in the AM, clearing and windy in the PM. I was supposed to have a tailwind on Alameda on the way home but it didn’t feel like it.
I did not have to walk my bike up Edgewood this time, although I think I made the same number of rest stops. Flying down the other side was less freaky the second time. I saw a lot of new scenery — all the southern area of Cañada and Mountain Home were totally new to me, along with the stretch of Alameda between Edgewood and Woodside. I didn’t realize that Alameda gets narrow at points, rather than having a nice bike lane the whole way like it has in Menlo Park. Some of it is not very nice to ride because people are rude. Also it’s hilly, but that’s not really news to anything but my thighs, which were extremely unhappy that I was climbing anything at all after Edgewood (parts of Mountain Home and Portola were pretty challenging on Edgewood-drained legs too). Mountain Home also doesn’t have shoulders (unlike the other possibility, Whiskey Hill) so that was interesting. Not as scary as I expected, especially with little traffic and five of us riding. There were some places where the asphalt patches were clearly whimsical — a snowman and a spiral — which was fun. I’m actually very glad we didn’t take Whiskey Hill because if you do, you have to climb that stupid hill that’s a continuation of the Sand Hill climb on the Portola loop, and that hill still is a challenge for me even when fairly fresh, so I don’t know what would have happened in this situation.
I really only intended to do about 20 miles today to prove to myself that I’m in shape for the Sequoia 50K next weekend, but for whatever reason — I guess just that I love sightseeing on my bike — I decided to keep on. I’m very tired now but not notably sore (except my hands are a little bit sore, and I’m sure I’ll hear from my legs when I stand up), and I don’t have to climb Edgewood next weekend (just Arastradero and Whiskey Hill), so it should be more than all right. I think I’ll be faster this year than I was last year. Last year I had only just gotten Maia, for one thing. Today I was keeping up with people who are much fitter than I (at least one of whom had already ridden a century that weekend) and I did all right, though I did fall behind on the climb, on Cañada, and a bit on Portola. But coming down Valparaiso at the end I was still going around 18 on the gradual downhill, which I know is faster than I was going last year on the same approach during the Sequoia, and I didn’t feel muzzy until I actually got to El Camino (very close to home), whereas before I remember that I felt muzzy once it flattened out and had to really concentrate to get to the rest stop at Burgess Park, at about the 20-mile mark (I think). Whereas this ride, at 20mi I was definitely ready for a break (and we took one) but not in the same way.
All in all, a highly successful ride.
I need to think about what mileage to do this week. I’m thinking 20 (if I can), 13, 6, 0 (I have something else to do Friday that precludes biking to work, though maybe I should get up early and ride a bit), and ~3 Saturday just to spin a bit, then of course 30ish on Sunday.
Back in February after my first experience at the San Francisco Symphony, I wrote that if them doing the German Requiem (with SFSO Chorus) didn’t blow my mind, nothing would.
Well, it did. What a beautiful concert. For the first half they did Gestliches Lied and Four Songs for Women’s Chorus, which I thought were amazing. At intermission I described the sound to Ryan as like glass globes floating in the air. I don’t know how they (or Brahms) do it, but that’s what it sounds like. Brahms is odd because the songs are often sad but they don’t always sound it.
The Requiem was just wonderful. That piece lives in my soul, so I think it’s impossible for me to do an adequate description of it. It’s got so many tender and lovely moments, so many powerful moments, and so many sad moments, and the ensembles expressed it all perfectly, both emotionally and artistically. I savored my favorite moments, occasionally unable to resist silently forming the words in my own mouth and remembering how it felt to sing them. And I rediscovered other beautiful bits that I often pass over as I listen preferentially to my favorite movements.
Actually, the only weak spot for me (and this is perhaps more my taste than my artistic judgment) was the soloists. I felt the soprano was fine but too ’soprano’-ish and not very expressive, and the baritone was too quiet and his voice quality was blurry. But the choir and orchestra were absolutely on.
My mind is officially blown.
Tod, wo ist dein Stachel? Hölle, wo ist dein Sieg?
I updated my webpage last night, which I evidently hadn’t done in a couple of years. That’s hard to believe — time has flown. But the content was showing its age, and links to my gallery and blog (which have been set up and working for almost six months now) now exist, which should help people find them.
Working with the static content of the webpage was interesting, and lent insight into why many popular websites have essentially become blogs. Tomato Nation made this transition not long ago, and while I was dismayed at first, I really don’t miss the old site arrangement now (except for the giant tomato graphic) because all the content is there and the updates show up right at the top, all without Sars (I would imagine) having to do anything more than open a posting window.
The fact is that most websites have always been interesting primarily for little chunks of content, and that said chunks are most interesting when they are either new (something blog posts handle much better than “New!” graphics) or old and popular. It’s easy to put or keep your popular chunks in posts, and add a list of the popular posts to your blog front page. So the blog (especially ones that use software that leans to the CMS side, like WordPress) really handles pretty much everything you would want in a website, with the possible exception of other specialized content like photos, which can be easily set up in Gallery or similar and just linked in to the front page.
I’m not sure if I’ll do that. There’s a certain appeal to the old-fashioned pages too.
I also added a lot of blogs to my blogroll. Some of them are ones I’ve been reading, but that aren’t on my syndicated feeds list on LiveJournal for some reason, and some are ones I’d bookmarked and forgetten about but would like to read more often. Most of them seem to be about cooking or cycling. Not entirely surprising, but there are a few others.
This is too funny. I was looking at the area around Dallas on Google maps, and found that there is a city in Ellis County called Midlothian, which is also the name of the area around Edinburgh to the south and the historical government area in which Edinburgh is located (these days it’s a council area unto itself).
Although the Wikipedia page doesn’t mention it, Midlothian, TX is (not hugely surprisingly) named after Midlothian, Scotland. There are apparently four other Midlothians, one of which was definitely also named after the Scottish area. The others, it’s not clear.
I saw an example in the wild world of vegan blogging today of what Language Log calls WTF coordination (aka syllepsis):
With a dough hook and the mixer running, add remaining flour and knead another 5 minutes.
If this sentence doesn’t strike you as strange, note that “a dough hook” and “the mixer running” are two different types of attachments to “with”, one a straightforward noun and the other a more complex phrase. Perhaps this is another case of recipe-register creating telegraphic constructions that are easy to WTF.
The linked Language Log posts explain the complexities of grammaticality judgment in cases like these. In fact, it’s the toughness of the judgments that gave these their fond name: you’re not a prescriptivist ruling them out on some theoretical grounds. But you hear them and go “WTF, that’s not grammatical”, so you’re not being a pure descripitivist either by assuming that anything anyone produces is grammatical. And then you find it’s hard to explain why some examples sound terrible (like “The sun makes you hot and sneeze”) and others sound okay or even clever.
I rather like this grammatical WTF; it can be elegant or amusing when used well, and I think Country Living magazine (the recipe’s original source) used it well.
…I think I’ve fallen for California, or at least for the Bay Area.
I fell for San Francisco a bit before I moved here, loving the little houses all packed up in the hills. It reminded me a little of Edinburgh (the city I love best). I also had an affection for BART — the speed, the frequency, the sounds it makes when it accelerates.
But moving to the Peninsula isn’t really like moving to San Francisco. It’s suburbia on crack, high-density, long-range suburbia, set into a landscape that would be much more beautiful if only it weren’t crowded with overpriced, undermaintained homes. It’s a frustrating place to live — I think whether you have a car or not (because if you do, you spend a lot of time in traffic), but more so if you don’t. Not dense enough for transit to be effective, too dense for transit not to make sense. I was angry with Caltrain for being crappy. I didn’t feel at home. I couldn’t get to places. I didn’t know people.
But I got seduced by the flowers in everyone’s yards, the beautiful weather, and the ever-tantalizing closeness of both city and wilderness. You can go to San Francisco and have your fill of urbanness (I don’t need that much, it turns out). And there’s that little strip of undeveloped area off to the coast edge as you start to come south from the city, progressing to a wide swath of ranches, estates, parks and near-wilderness as you go further south. Hiking and riding in that area isn’t too far from being a little strip of heaven.
Farmer’s markets overflow with produce from farms in the nearby area and the Central Valley. There are towns and cities with a multitude of different sizes and personalities, and interesting places to go that aren’t really that far away, even though they’re a lot further away than most people want to admit. Slowly, I started to get the measure of this place. I didn’t realize how at home I’d become until a fortuitous invitation to temporarily get away came my way, and I realized I didn’t want to miss anything.
I have the uniform, but I never really thought I’d become a California girl. I guess I underestimated California.
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