 
 If you look in my guestbook, you'll see an entry from Beth, regarding a book I have. She says her great-great grandfather wrote it, and is trying to track down a copy of his award-winning treatise. So, I pulled mine off my shelf and leafed through it. I didn't get very far, only to the inside cover where the previous owner had left his mark. George Wesley Droke. Just for a lark, I put his name into a search engine, only to discover that Mr. Droke was faculty at the University of Arkansas for 47 years, retiring as Dean in late 1924. He grew up in Arkansas, after moving from Indiana, and a school was eventually named after him or his family near Bentonville. See, this is why I love old books. Eighty years ago, this learned man, who grew up in during the Civil War and never attended school until already 13 years old, added this book to his collection. Two years from retirement, still dean of the University of Arkansas, Droke was 68 years old when he signed this book. He made sure there was no doubt as to the ownership of the book: he pasted a personalized library plate into the cover, accompanied by a fountain-pen signature and the date. Ownership is fleeting in our modern-day world. Centuries pass, however, and this book will always be Droke's copy. Even if I sell this to the author's great-grandaughter, or if it just stays on my shelf, there's still the weighty impression of a person's life on it.
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