"John Hofmann, 1952"

This evening I was going through the books in our study and pulling out a select few for “decoration” on the living room shelves. I had just purchased a candles-on-a-tray set and wanted some nice hardcovers to place around it. I pulled out a large blue volume from a lower shelf: The Complete Works of Shakespeare, Oxford Edition. The spine crinkled softly as I opened it and read the two inscriptions: 

“John Hofmann, 1952”

 “To Teal, May 2004” 

I sat down and just held it for a moment. I turned a few more pages to find the publication date: March 1938. 

I never met my grandfather. He died when my mom was only 2. Grandma always had a photo of John on her dresser; a smiling young man in black and white. He loved books, especially science fiction and the many Oz novels by L. Frank Baum. 

In high school I developed a love for Shakespeare – a passion that has never waned. On my 17^th birthday Grandma presented me with the heavy book, my first Complete Works. I read the inscription written in blue ink below and to the left of the original. Her handwriting was elegant and smooth; John’s handwriting in black above it was slightly sharper but still beautiful. Handwriting has already become a lost art. 

Grandma died of cancer two years after giving me the book. I cried for her at our wedding. I cried that she couldn’t be at my college graduation, or my brother’s, or see any of us growing and changing and coming into our lives.  

The book is water-stained in one corner and fraying around the edges, but I cried holding it tonight. I wish I could have known the man that bought that book in 1952. It was probably used when he purchased it, but he kept it and cared for it through the rest of his short life. Then Grandma kept and cared for it and gave it to me 8 years ago. I’m going to keep it and care for it the best that I can.