Just before Christmas break we had a patron in the Woodson who was researching in the Julian Huxley papers, one of our most used collections. Since the boxes were already out I could do no other than look in them. I’ve never found anything really earth shaking in this group as regards the history of Rice, but all sorts of interesting minor tidbits have turned up this way.
And yet again I was rewarded, this time with a small scrap of paper that held a small scrap of poetry:
Interestingly, I don’t know who wrote it even though I feel sure I’ve seen the handwriting before. It could even be Huxley himself, I suppose, if he were making some effort to write legibly. His normal hand was absolutely atrocious, sometimes reaching nearly Hackermanesque levels of incomprehensibility.
Bonus: The new semester doesn’t start until next week but I dragged myself in to campus for an hour or so today in an attempt to mitigate the shock. I’m really glad I did it, too. It was a glorious day, crisp and sunny with an enormous clear blue sky. We don’t get that many like this.
Extra Bonus: They’re freshening up the inside of the Brochstein Pavilion and it looks like a circus tent in there. Which is rather appropriate, really.
