The Paper Chase

I once found a letter written to my great-great grandfather tucked inside the back of a leather diary. The marbled stationery is stamp-embossed with a winged dragon.

20th May 1896

Dear Mr. Sollom:

I am sending you back the handkerchief you so kindly lent me at the paper-chase. Also, one to replace the one you tore up on my behalf, which I trust you will kindly accept, with my sincere thanks for all your courteous attention and kindness to me. I have never ceased to reproach myself for spoiling your run.

With kind regards,

Believe me, Truly yours,

Constance Bridge

Paper chase! An outdoor game where the person designated the “hare” takes off, leaving shreds of paper behind. Everyone else are the hounds, and they chase after the hare, trying to find him or her before they reach the finish line. But the paper trail moves about with the wind—so it’s easy to lose the trail.

My honorable great-great-grandfather Francis appears to have donated a crisp white handkerchief to a hare-chasing woman named Constance. Perhaps she fell over a pricker bush and he stopped to wrap a bandage around her shin.

He must have loved her note—he saved it for some reason. So, to Constance: I hope you stopped reproaching yourself. I am certain you didn’t spoil his run. And reproach doesn’t do anyone a lick of good.

Francis’s journal is filled to the end with ink from scrawling fountain pen. On the first page, it says Extracts that pleased me. F.S., Nov. 1892, Bohemia Road, St. Leonards-on-Sea.

On its pages, he copied quotes from Byron, Shakespeare, and Longfellow, and others I have not heard of. It’s organized with headings such as “Regaining Honour,” “Cure for Influenza,” “To Get Rid of the Blues,” and “The Age of Love.” All things social and political in the late 19th century in Great Britain, including results from the July 1895 election.

On page 21, there is an excerpt of his own writing: “On the Formation & Analysis of a Direct Sigh.” Or, from October 1893, “How to Take a Bath Without Towels.”

Such wisdom! I must write a blog piece on the formation and analysis of a direct sigh.

Francis’s journal is a gift to me, a puzzle. I have a book of my favorite quotes just like it. He gave me some of his word-loving DNA.

Now that my parents and grandparents have all passed on, I’m in my own, quiet paper chase now. I’m the hound chasing after the threads of their lives.

What threads are you following, trying to piece together?

I find delight and longing as I chase after tiny pieces of paper skipping about in the wind.