In a far off land, long ago, a story was shared between three men. Three generations sat in that room marveling at the craft that laid bare knowledge and wisdom to each. The room was filled with a warm feeling and had within it many comfortable chairs. Much like a certain hobbit hole in another distant land, this place would be the beginning of a story that would change the course of the lives of those involved. Perhaps they guessed at the time, though I tend to doubt it, but the stories that were shared would draw them close, and leave an impact so great on the youngest, that the ripples would be felt throughout the rest of his life. In those soft still moments, legends came alive, tearing up as if a door had been opened to another world. Beyond the gateway in his mind, the kindly face of a towering wizard was a mirror of his grandfather’s, and the imposing and protective force of the ranger, Strider, resembled his father to a comforting degree. The young boy would grow up, as young boys tend to do, but these hours spent together would never leave him. Once he had grown, he would come to visit those moments once more as he set foot in a distant land, far from home, and visit the artifacts of a man who had acted beyond time and space to made those distant hours possible.
Today I was able to go and visit the Tolkien exhibit in the Weston Library and it was like coming home for me in many ways. Tolkien was a man that has always been an inspiration for me as an incredible linguist and author, as well as a paragon of his own values and theology. This is something that the men I have looked up to so much in my life have shared in common. To me, my father and grandfather were the epitome of scholarly men, and their introduction to a love of reading has guided me through my life and led me to becoming the man I am today. As I stood in the dark hall that contained the remnants of this great author’s works, I was transported, as I always am with Tolkien’s writing, to the moment when I began to love reading. It was an opportunity that I hope I never forget, because it was these three men, my grandfather, father, and one of our favorite authors, that I have become who I am today as I sit and write this.
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Isaac Morley
Shakespeare in Oxford! 