Ozma of Oz by L. Frank Baum was the first book I ever owned.
I found it recently and ran my hands down the well-loved cover, remembering.
It was the first book in my personal book collection,
I received Ozma of Oz as a gift for my seventh birthday, along with Nancy Drew #2, The Hidden Staircase.
I gave away all the Nancy Drews years ago when I gave up hope I’d ever have a reading daughter.
(And then had a baby girl three years later!)
When I unwrapped my gift, I found Ozma was new with a shiny golden jacket. Today the cardboard cover is flaking off and I doubt anyone but me would want to open the book. Do I even want to open it?
In the frontpiece of the book, Ozma looks as young as always.
On the fly leaf, I find the pride of a young owner, and then one a little older practicing her cursive writing. How many books have I bought or received since Ozma and Nancy entered my life?
Countless.
Filling a bookshelf?
I remember being so proud of the collection I amassed in a family that believed in going to the library, not visiting a book store.
We only had one bookshelf in our house until I finally needed one of my own. I was like a hungry person handed a platter. I took any opportunity to own a book, whether a good book or not.
My parents stoutly maintained anything worth reading could be checked out of the library (though not those Nancy Drews back in the dark ages of my childhood).
My aunt gave me a dictionary for my tenth birthday, and it’s snuggled up against Ozma right now. The cardboard cover is barely whole, but packing tape covers the spine.
I wrote my name in the dictionary, too.
It almost pains me to see my name written so carefully in these books, with the admonition to “please return.” I felt so important to own a volume. It’s curious how such little things twist the heart.
Elizabeth of the Mayflower
Some of my favorite books lived at the library and I checked them out time and again. One in particular, Elizabeth of the Mayflower–an historical fiction about an original Pilgrim Elizabeth Tilley caught my imagination and my heart.
I remember the day I couldn’t find it at library, lost and never to be checked out again.
But the Internet is a wonderful contraption for hunting down the joys of our youth. I found a copy on-line several years ago and bought it.
The book isn’t as rich a read as I remembered, but it felt satisfying to have it on my shelf.
Until I discovered my friend Beth is a descendent of Elizabeth Tilley and John Alden. I gave her the book.
What was the first book you owned as a child? Do you still have it?
Julie Surface Johnson says
It’s funny. My parents were educated people, but most of the stories I remember as a child came from my mother’s fertile imagination. How she could spin a yarn! As for library books, we lived miles outside of town and the best I could hope for was an occasional visit from the Bookmobile. The first book I remember owning all by myself, however, came probably in Junior High when my maternal grandmother gave me a copy of the newly released book called The Prize, written by Irving Wallace. I felt so grown up to own a book that was currently on the best-seller list.
Julie Surface Johnson says
And, no, I no longer have it. I don’t know what ever became of that book.
Siobhan says
This is such a beautiful blog post. Sadly, I don’t actually remember the first book I owned, I was really lucky having two older siblings in a house full of books, so I could just pick them up and read as I wanted. I do remember my first library book though.
michelleule says
Which was . . . ? 🙂 The library book. I don’t remember my first one of those, though I do remember getting my library card–it’s the reasons I learned how to print!
Gilda Weisskopf says
The first book I owned was a Trixie Belden mystery book (she was like Nancy Drew). I remember saving my allowance and going to Grants or McCroys variety stores to see if a new book had come in. I think I still have one in one of my boxes. She brings back many fond memories. I laid on a blanket under a big tree and read all afternoon. I also remember getting my library card. Now I could check out books all by myself. Boy, did I think I was hot stuff!