Jul 22, 2003 13:45
1. Actually I might be an overpronater, I am not sure of the spelling. But the fact is that I am an overpronator, and I have been for the past 20 years, and I didn't know about it until last week. I was reading a running book that Margo has trying to get myself into running (i will as soon as this damn cold goes away) when I saw a description of overpronating feet. Basically, it means that I am nearly flat-footed and because of this I walk on the insides of my feet. For running this would mean different shoes and that my stance is not completely forward. Something about it just sounds so wrong. Everytime I walk, or even rest my feet on something, I am thinking to myself-there I go again, overpronating.
2. Frank Paul Bowman '49- who are you? I keep trying to piece together parts of your life. I know that you went to Reed in the 1940s, I know that you were a professor of French literature but I don't know where. I know that you were in France in 1969 because there was a train schedule in one of your books. I know that you read over drafts of books and made comments. I know that you have bad handwriting. I think you were in Minnesota at some point in your lives because I found a bookmark from there.
But there are so many questions left unanswered. Why didn't you cut the pages of all of your books? Did you live in Paris for a long time? Were you married? I envision you having very snooty parties with Americans who wish they were French and talk about french literature a lot while they spoke of wine and cheese and gastronomic tendencies in french literature in the late 1700s and of how much they hate Americans. Did you have these parties? Were they here or there? You have an extensive collection. Was Reed the only college to receive boxfuls of your books? Did you try to give them to other colleges? Was it your choice to give those books to our little library? Did you think we should have more books on that subject or could you not bear to see books thrown out? Did it occur to you that old paperback books might not be in the best condition for preservation in our stacks? Or perhaps your family dumped them on us out of vengance. Perhaps you were a nice boy until you decided to Reed, and then as can often happen, became a pretentious ass. Were you a nice farmboy from Oregon or did you grow up nouveau riche in New England? What do the red dots mean? Were they some sort of organizational system? Were there other colors of dots? Clara thinks that they might mean that the books should go to Reed, but I don't think so. Frank Paul, I find you intriguing, your personna and books have made my summer at the library a little more interesting.