I'm Left With A Bag In My Hand

One of my most cherished and recognizable accouterments, the green canvas Army rucksack I’ve carried since January of 1994, finally broke on Saturday. I carried that bag through 3.5 years of Catholic High school, one trip Puerto Rico, 4 years of undergraduate education, two trips to Washington D.C., one month in Paris, 2.5 years of MBA courses at OCU, six weeks in Elk City, one month in London, another quick stay in Paris and almost two more years in Norman as I pursue an MA in JMC (and yes, that's it in the still from The Metro Chase above... it got more screen time than some of the actors).

It was a tiny bit of canvas that finally gave out. The tiny bit of canvas held a small rectangular metal loop in place. The loop went through another, slightly larger loop and was pierced by a couple of dark, arrow-shaped bits of plastic that held the two halves of the shoulder strap together and kept it on my back for the last 12 years.

Looking at the strap, which was already adorned by large metal staples that attached the strap to the bag, I wasn’t sure if or how it could be repaired by somebody like me. I felt a little helpless, and cheated, and disappointed. I had dreams of carrying that bag through to the completion of my higher education and using it in lieu of a briefcase, like Bradley Whitford’s Joshua Liman character from the West Wing, in any professional situation in which I became involved. Eventually I hoped I would be able to pass it on to someone worthy, like a son or daughter. Plus, it’s pretty damned unique, and only two weeks ago caught the eye of an attractive woman. Alas.

In my grief I went to Target. As I walked through the parking lot and the store, I became more and more at peace with letting it go gracefully, and picking up a new bag. After some careful deliberations I bought the Redmond, a largish carryall from Eddie Bauer. I like it, but I hate that it has the brand name stitched all over place. I might have to enlist some help in removing it. Le sigh.

The whole experience has reminded me just how silly it is to invest myself emotionally in physical objects, and upon returning home from Target (and also Office Depot) I began the strangely exhilarating process of boxing up stuff that serves a purpose and throwing away shit that I don’t need. It’s nice to divest yourself occasionally, or else you end up drowning in your past.

Glub... Glub... Glub...