By Daniel Fromson

In October 2011， at a thrift store in Washington， I bought a vintage black suit jacket， finely crosshatched with grayand-crimson plaid.1 It didnt cost much， and I intended to wear it on Halloween. Having served its purpose， it would presumably2 hang in my closet until I threw it away.

But it looked uncannily3 new. Though its exterior felt coarse， its lining was a silky burnt sienna.4 A tag revealed that it was handmade by Hickey Freeman， which now makes jackets that cost a thousand dollars or more. Even its buttons， with their woven reliefs，5 were beautiful. And it fit remarkably well. I ended up wearing it often—and then， months later， discovered a note in one of its pockets. It was just two sentences written in cursive on a yellowed postcard：“This suit was in the plane with Homer on December 6， 1974. It fell clear （was in a plastic suit bag） and was returned to us by funeral home.”6

It became impossible not to dwell on the implications， in all their potent incompleteness.7 The jacket belonged to a man named Homer， and it fell to earth during the plane crash that killed him. Clothing had always seemed fragile， defeated by ink， by moths， by an elbow bursting through a sleeve.8 This jacket survived a disaster that took a life. I began wearing it to graduations and business meetings， weddings and first dates. When I moved to New York to work at a magazine， the jacket came with me， and when I was wearing it at lunch one day， I told some co-workers about the note. They wondered if I might be able to learn more.

I returned to my desk and typed the words “Homer” and“crash，” and the date from the postcard， into Google. Among the first results was a lengthy document detailing the crash of a twinengine Cessna near Pine Bluff， Ark.9 It also described a man in one of the rear seats10. His name was Homer Hendrickson， and the crash took place a few weeks before his 52nd birthday.

I learned that Homer had been married for 25 years， and that he and his wife had three children， all of them in college. He was described as “an ideal husband” and an excellent newspaperman. Particularly devastating was an account of his wifes anguish over his unanticipated death： She left work， lost weight， was overcome by crying spells.11 The court awarded her more than $800，000 in damages.