Her mother taught English and was one of Willie Mays’s early teachers. Instead, she wanted to talk about “extraordinary, ordinary people” John and Angelena Rice. “Indeed I have started and will finish that book.” She didn’t talk about the controversial Bush years: Everyone expects “the obligatory secretary of state memoir,” a policy memoir with names and insider’s details, she said. A couple of decades and thousands of hours of workouts later (hers, not mine), she really does look the same, wearing a sleek brown jacket and trousers. I remember her as a young associate professor of political science in the mid-80s. It’s diplomatic to say someone “hasn’t changed” in decades - but Condi Rice really hasn’t changed. I elbowed my way downstairs, mildly squashing myself beside two Asian students, who were speaking in Chinese and thumbing through the first pages of her book. I waded towards the basement “textbook area,” where students were crowding the balustrades and peering downwards. I had arrived a few minutes late, and didn’t have a chance to see the playing out of that little drama.įortunately, Prof. One student held a sign outside the glass doors: “Condi’s signature is dripping with blood.” He was remonstrating with a swarthy man in a suit who seemed to be holding a photographer’s camera lens … no, it was a full Pepsi Cola bottle. Condoleezza Rice, professor of political science and Hoover fellow, made a rare appearance - sans secret service or personal bodyguards - to promote her new memoir, Extraordinary, Ordinary People.
Three Stanford police were outside the Stanford Bookstore at 4 p.m.
0 kommentar(er)
