There is an old saying that “You can’t go home again” – and often it’s true enough.
But sometimes you can. Our dear friend/teacher/mentor Joseph celebrated a “milestone” birthday this week, and the Paperchase crew turned out for a surprise-post-trailride bash planned by the ever- organized and fabulous Saturday morning riders.

It makes no difference whatsoever that the old Paperchase Farm has not existed in its original form for more years than I care to remember. What matters is that when we all get together on the farm with the vague smell of horses and leather and hay in the air, we still feel perfectly at home – old friends and new.
Amid the celebrating, there was a lot of: “How can your kids be so big??” and “How did we get so old?” and “How long has it been since the last time I saw you?” and of course “Are you riding?”
But the resounding theme, the question that kept going around and around was: “Remember When…??”
There seems to be so much to remember – the horse shows in the heat of summer and cold of winter – jumping in the pool with your riding clothes on because you were so hot you thought you would die, and braiding when you thought your fingers would freeze off. The Christmas parades, mock hunts, wine rides, and tailgate parties. Hunt Night. The Tuesday night lessons, both on horseback and watching from the old judges stand. The trips to Kings Dominion where the ride down 95 was as memorable as the day at the park. All the great horses we have known and shared with one another. Watching kids go from leadline to college in what seemed to be the blink of an eye.
And the sweetest moment for me – when someone told me that one of her strongest memories of Paperchase was of me – at 19 or maybe 20, galloping by on Lady, bareback and in a hackamore, caution thrown to the wind (quite literally, and probably stupidly). Thank you for that, Sharon. Somehow that meant alot – to think that someone remembers how I rode when I was so young that it never even occurred to me that I could fall off…
Those days are gone – but boy, it’s easy to remember how it felt to sit on Lady.

At any rate – my point is, sometimes “going home again” is just sharing a history and keeping those memories alive. And for that, I know we are all eternally grateful.
So from all of us – Happy Birthday – and thanks for the memories.
