...ode to a bookbag...
My dear, sweet, utilitarian Eastpak has been with me for quite a while. We were first introduced sometime between my Junior and Senior year of high school. We saw a lot of ups and downs together, didn't we Eastpak? Hehe, remember that time in Austria when we got into a drunken bar fight? You saved me that night, my friend. What's that? Oh! I can't believe you still recall that! You rascal, you. We traveled to New York that first summer to visit relatives and see the city, and it was there that we first truly bonded with one another. How easily I remember the hookers in Times Square and the way they made you feel...and I know you hated me for keeping you from them, but in the end you knew I was right about their diseases.
And so, you accompanied me on my final days of high school at Oak Hills-surviving bomb threats, Kowzan, and being stuffed inside a locker all day. We decided to take that second vacation to the Smokies as part of my Senior trip with the guys. You never once grew jealous, and it was then that I knew we were meant for each other. We hiked and climbed and had a great time together, and always you were there telling me, "don't worry Craig, I got your back. Because I'm your backpack." And you always did. Whenever I was unsure of myself, whenever I needed some helping carrying that extra load, I need only to have looked over my shoulder, and there you were. Always following me like some sort of compartmentalized pack with two straps with which to cling to my shoulders so as not to slip off. Oh how I felt so safe and warm within your nylon padded embrace.
You were with me when I went to London and France, carrying the essentials for me, like crackers, water, translation dictionaries. People suggested I check you as baggage and free up some space for myself on the airplane ride there, but "NO!", I said...my backpack stays with me. You held my CD player for me while I listened to music, and let me rest my head upon you as I dozed during the horrible in-flight movies. During the days I would sometimes go sight-seeing with just a few things at my disposal, but always I would come back to the hotel where you would greet me lovingly and always be interested in the things I'd seen. I know you weren't terribly thrilled about visiting France, but we made the best of it didn't we? Perhaps, if we'd had more time, you could have gotten that Fanny-pack's number. I'm sorry. Truly, I am. But, we had each other didn't we?
You accompanied me to OU for that first part of my freshman college year, and you were my rock when I was unsure of what to do. We certainly walked quite a bit there didn't we? Yes, well, I didn't have a bike did I? No, I didn't. No. I didn't. Well, they wouldn't allow cars for freshman, you know that! Please, let's not argue shall we? Okay. It was sometime during this first year of college that your zippers began to malfunction, wasn't it? After so long of zipping them the one way everytime, they just stopped working. So, we did a little work and fixed them so they would at least zip the other way. And still your metal prongs hold as tight as they ever did. Why, just the other day I attempted to pull them apart in a fit of rage, but you knew didn't you? You knew I was testing you, and you proved me wrong as always.
We moved around a lot after that. From dorm room to dorm room, alley to alley, always looking for a new place to live. As a resident, as an RA, you were always there to help me out and remind me of the tasks I needed to accomplish for that particular day. Sometimes I would get angry and, in brief outbursts even choose you to extoll my anger upon, and I knew you were hurt and upset, but still you came back to me. I'd pick you up, dust you off, sling you over my shoulder and delight in that familiar grip. There were many times where I would test your limits. Trust my faith in you, and cram as much as I could within your confined recesses. You never let me down, did you? Somehow, some way, you'd always manage to fit as many books and papers and folders within you, and still have room for one more. You never ceased to amaze me Eastpak. Never.
Over the past few months you've grown older, haven't you? I've noticed the wear and tear on you has become more prevalent than in the past. We talked about it, I know, and you assured me that everything was okay. That you were strong. And so, you convinced me to take you back to the Smokies last summer, back to where we first knew we were meant for it each other, and oh! it was glorious. You worked so hard, and you gained the respect you so richly deserved. And we had so much fun then, you and I, high atop the mountains. You carried the ever-refreshing water and snacks, and you never grew jealous when we decided to take Chad's backpack instead of you sometimes. You were a true gentelman, Eastpak. A true gentleman, and a poet.
Now, the daily grind has gotten to you. The tear on the top of your outer compartment has grown so large that I can easily reach in and grab several pens out at a time. The hole on your bottom, where the smooth leather meets the tough nylon, has continued to stretch into a seemingly endless black hole, and I fear for the loss of your ability to carry things. All these years you've been there for me, watching out for me, carrying me when I should've been the one carrying you. But those years are gone now, aren't they Eastpak? It's okay, it's okay. No need to cry. You no longer need to take care of me, for it is I who must take care of you now. You may find that you are not used any longer, but you are never forgotten, dear Eastpak. How could I forget you? How could I forget those times when we'd play hide-and-seek for hours and hours, always I'd be looking for you, and somehow you'd end up right behind me the whole time! Aah, you were a master, Eastpak. A master.
So, now I leave you to your rest. There may be a time when I call upon your services yet again, dear friend. But for now, sleep. Relax. Don't let the worries of the day weigh you down any longer. You have trained shoulder-bag very well these past couple of years, and he will do his best to live up to your standards. Farewell, sweet Eastpak. Until we shall meet again.
And so, you accompanied me on my final days of high school at Oak Hills-surviving bomb threats, Kowzan, and being stuffed inside a locker all day. We decided to take that second vacation to the Smokies as part of my Senior trip with the guys. You never once grew jealous, and it was then that I knew we were meant for each other. We hiked and climbed and had a great time together, and always you were there telling me, "don't worry Craig, I got your back. Because I'm your backpack." And you always did. Whenever I was unsure of myself, whenever I needed some helping carrying that extra load, I need only to have looked over my shoulder, and there you were. Always following me like some sort of compartmentalized pack with two straps with which to cling to my shoulders so as not to slip off. Oh how I felt so safe and warm within your nylon padded embrace.
You were with me when I went to London and France, carrying the essentials for me, like crackers, water, translation dictionaries. People suggested I check you as baggage and free up some space for myself on the airplane ride there, but "NO!", I said...my backpack stays with me. You held my CD player for me while I listened to music, and let me rest my head upon you as I dozed during the horrible in-flight movies. During the days I would sometimes go sight-seeing with just a few things at my disposal, but always I would come back to the hotel where you would greet me lovingly and always be interested in the things I'd seen. I know you weren't terribly thrilled about visiting France, but we made the best of it didn't we? Perhaps, if we'd had more time, you could have gotten that Fanny-pack's number. I'm sorry. Truly, I am. But, we had each other didn't we?
You accompanied me to OU for that first part of my freshman college year, and you were my rock when I was unsure of what to do. We certainly walked quite a bit there didn't we? Yes, well, I didn't have a bike did I? No, I didn't. No. I didn't. Well, they wouldn't allow cars for freshman, you know that! Please, let's not argue shall we? Okay. It was sometime during this first year of college that your zippers began to malfunction, wasn't it? After so long of zipping them the one way everytime, they just stopped working. So, we did a little work and fixed them so they would at least zip the other way. And still your metal prongs hold as tight as they ever did. Why, just the other day I attempted to pull them apart in a fit of rage, but you knew didn't you? You knew I was testing you, and you proved me wrong as always.
We moved around a lot after that. From dorm room to dorm room, alley to alley, always looking for a new place to live. As a resident, as an RA, you were always there to help me out and remind me of the tasks I needed to accomplish for that particular day. Sometimes I would get angry and, in brief outbursts even choose you to extoll my anger upon, and I knew you were hurt and upset, but still you came back to me. I'd pick you up, dust you off, sling you over my shoulder and delight in that familiar grip. There were many times where I would test your limits. Trust my faith in you, and cram as much as I could within your confined recesses. You never let me down, did you? Somehow, some way, you'd always manage to fit as many books and papers and folders within you, and still have room for one more. You never ceased to amaze me Eastpak. Never.
Over the past few months you've grown older, haven't you? I've noticed the wear and tear on you has become more prevalent than in the past. We talked about it, I know, and you assured me that everything was okay. That you were strong. And so, you convinced me to take you back to the Smokies last summer, back to where we first knew we were meant for it each other, and oh! it was glorious. You worked so hard, and you gained the respect you so richly deserved. And we had so much fun then, you and I, high atop the mountains. You carried the ever-refreshing water and snacks, and you never grew jealous when we decided to take Chad's backpack instead of you sometimes. You were a true gentelman, Eastpak. A true gentleman, and a poet.
Now, the daily grind has gotten to you. The tear on the top of your outer compartment has grown so large that I can easily reach in and grab several pens out at a time. The hole on your bottom, where the smooth leather meets the tough nylon, has continued to stretch into a seemingly endless black hole, and I fear for the loss of your ability to carry things. All these years you've been there for me, watching out for me, carrying me when I should've been the one carrying you. But those years are gone now, aren't they Eastpak? It's okay, it's okay. No need to cry. You no longer need to take care of me, for it is I who must take care of you now. You may find that you are not used any longer, but you are never forgotten, dear Eastpak. How could I forget you? How could I forget those times when we'd play hide-and-seek for hours and hours, always I'd be looking for you, and somehow you'd end up right behind me the whole time! Aah, you were a master, Eastpak. A master.
So, now I leave you to your rest. There may be a time when I call upon your services yet again, dear friend. But for now, sleep. Relax. Don't let the worries of the day weigh you down any longer. You have trained shoulder-bag very well these past couple of years, and he will do his best to live up to your standards. Farewell, sweet Eastpak. Until we shall meet again.