Amid Threads and Stiches: Valentine’s day

When one thinks of a military collection, their first thought is an assortment of weapons, medals, uniforms and photographs. Although these objects are an important aspect of a regimental collection, they are far from the only items and stories we preserve and celebrate within our walls and, by no means, the full picture of the Cameronians (Scottish Riffles) military life. Alongside the battles and the acts of heroism we proudly showcase, we are also hosts of hidden human-interest stories that we wish to share with our visitors and blog readers. Sometimes, the simplest items, like a handkerchief, hold the most fascinating tales.

When I was looking to update one of our small display cases for February 2025, senior staff members suggested I read in our system about a special handkerchief that was part of our regimental collection and create a display around it and Valentine’s Day. At first glance, this handkerchief appears unimportant and of little interest, but after reading the short description around its donation, I fell in love with it. Within its stiches and threads, a bittersweet teenage love story is woven.

I immediately asked if it would be acceptable to contact the donor, Isabella, and listen to her speak about it, wanting to capture in this post and for my display text a sense of authenticity that I feared was missing from the short description we had recorded before. I was so glad the donor agreed, and we arranged a phone-call. Although a bit hesitant at first, Isabella opened to me very quickly as she tried to sort her emotions and thoughts regarding this handkerchief and why she wished for it to be donated to us. The phrase that she often repeated and stayed with me was that she didn’t want it “to end up destroyed,” after she died.

Isabella received this handkerchief in the 1950s, when she was sixteen years old alongside her last – as far as she remembers – Valentine’s  card from a young Cameronian soldier, named Frank. They met at their church’s youth group and soon became good friends allowing for a sweet friendship and innocent love to start between them. A couple of years older than her, Frank left to go to Germany alongside the regiment, but he and Isabella kept in touch and saw each other whenever he visited his family.

When I spoke with Isabella and she narrated to me her story, it was abundantly clear how much she treasured that precious time of her youth. She told me of her very happy memories with Frank and how much she respected and admired his family, who she described as very kind and loving to her.

Her words sounded like the beginning of a sweet love story, and one would expect that what followed this handkerchief was a marriage and happy family life. Isabella didn’t delve into too many details, but she admitted to me that this wasn’t the case for her and Frank.  When I asked her why things didn’t progress between them, she told me that she felt she wasn’t “good enough for him” and distanced herself from him and his family. She eventually married a different man, had children and built her own family. But, she was never able to part from the handkerchief, keeping it safe in a pouch alongside other treasured mementos for decades.

She told me that she kept it folded in the pouch as a secret, always afraid that if her first husband found out about it, he would destroy it. A precious and well-guarded secret, she finally took it out of the pouch in her eighties, many years after her first husband’s death, and talked with a hitch in her voice of how afraid she was that it would tear while she handwashed it. She commissioned a frame for it and began to ponder what she wanted to do with it.

Her first thought was to find Frank and speak with him, to attempt to reconnect all these years later so they can reminisce about the past. She enlisted the help of one of her grandchildren and found out that Frank had his own family and was widowed, but she never found the courage to contact him and rekindle their old friendship because she felt “it wasn’t fair.” Unfortunately, she never got the chance to see him again as he died before she changed her mind. Afterwards, she tried to give the handkerchief to his children, but they refused it and she approached Low Parks Museum and offered it as a donation, alongside the frame she had kept it in for the last few years.

It was apparent from the very first time we met her how much she valued and loved this object. She wanted to find a new home for it, where it would continue to be cherished, like she did for over seventy years. She told me how happy she was that we would put the object on display for a few weeks during February and that she would have the chance to travel to Hamilton and see it once again.

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