I love my uncle John's old books.

Uncle John was a lover of literature and football. I'm not sure which he was more passionate about, but as he lost his eyesight it was easier to watch football than it was to read.

By then though, he had collected an extensive personal library, many of which were duplicate editions of Jack London works. Inside most covers is a code he developed for cataloging, written in pencil in his distinctive handwriting.

Jack London was a socialist who lived in and loved San Francisco, much like my uncle, who, before he lived with us, lived on Franklin St. and worked for a local union. When he died, his one request was to have his ashes scattered at Jack London Park in Sonoma County (which by the way is not legal, but which we may have been able to pull off).

When I'm not photographing what he left behind, I'm chronicling and commenting on my grandmother's 1930s diary at almasdiary [dot] tumblr [dot] com.

You can reach me at almamariamne [at] gmail [dot] com.