Courtesy Associate

 As I came up out of the Hayden Library today I saw the roiling grey sky above and felt the chilly air. I had come in through the front entrance of the original hulking structure and, having been directed down into the basement information desk, left via the stairs that came out into a plaza a climbed back up to ground level next to the Danforth Chapel.

As I got to the top of the stairs,  I felt the raindrops. For several days running I had been savoring the mild temperatures while on campus, thinking how hot it was destined to become in a few months. By the end of the month, such weather may be here to stay. Today I had no complaints. I savored the rain, even getting slightly wet on my trousers walking back to my parked car.

I had not succeeded in my attempt to ascertain library borrowing privileges with my recently acquired "Sun Devil Card", which is of the same general form as a student ID, but mine is for "University Associate." I had thought that as "staff", I had such privileges, but evidently as a "University Associate" I need the endorsement of the faculty member to whom I am attached. The helpful young woman at the basement desk told me I need to be designated at a "Courtesy Associate" to receive library privileges. Tomorrow I will ask my manager, who is not faculty but staff, if he can arrange that for me.

Another Free Library

This morning on my way into the lab on campus, I made a detour to checkout a place I seen on my first day, when I was lost and wandering around looking for my building. I had made note of where it was and so it was not hard to find it---a small house smack in the middle of the campus along a wide sidewalk and out front a quaint free library. This morning, with a little time to kill, I decided to check it out. I retraced my steps on the first from the engineering building northward and found the house easily. It looked like a small two-story frame construction one might see in Portland, with an ample porch and a nice slanted roof. 

Sure enough the little free library was out of front. I approached up the sidewalk carrying the coffee I had purchased at the Memorial Union on my way in. The sign out front of the house, which I had not noticed on the first day, read "Virginia Piper Writing House."

The little free library was much smaller than the one in my park. I turned the latch and opened the glass door. Even through the glass I could see that most of the books looked to be poetry volumes of recent vintage, and by their titles they looked to have the theme of being aligned with current politics, which is basically "anything that isn't written by a white man."

One of the volumes was called "A Postcolonial Love Poem", which looking it up now, apparently won the Pulitzer Prize. No doubt it is a powerful statement against the oppression of indigenous peoples. I read some passages from it. I could understand why it won the Pulitzer Prize. Yet it was not really to my taste. I suppose I am hopelessly "colonial" in that sense. My ancestors were pioneers and settlers, and I am a product of that. I don't feel bad about that. If I were to write a love poem, I suppose it would reflect that. 

After replacing the book and closing the door I walked up onto the porch and peered inside. Evidently this was the campus creative writing center. Tours are available every other Tuesday, at noon. I made a note of the time so I could come back then if it struck me to do so.