This morning my alarm went off at nine. Now, I had been up until four-thirty and by careful calculation that gives me just about 3.5 hours of sleep, which is certainly not enough to motivate somebody to get up at nine the morning. So I decided that, no, I don’t really want to go to class and watch a movie about hippies, I would much rather sleep. I turned off my alarm and went back to bed. It was glorious. I woke up at about noon, feeling much refreshed. Here’s the kicker, though: I checked online, and as it turns out the power’s out on north campus all day, so my class was cancelled anyway. How’s that for luck? Bonus: my afternoon class is cancelled too. Not much of a better way to end out the week, I’d say.

But the real reason I’m here today is to talk to you about the end of something dear to me, and very near to my heart. It is a saddening event that comes to pass to take this thing from my grasp, yet it is not one unforeseen and most certainly of the inevitable nature. The fact is that all good things come to an end, and nothing lasts forever in our fallen world. Yet this does not serve to lessen the impact. Friends, my backpack has finally broken.

Yes, it’s true. I first met this backpack in the seventh grade when my parents bought it for me for Christmas. With a volume of 31.1 liters it was much larger than my entire torso at that point. However, I was proud to finally have a real backpack, one that said JanSport instead of Ninja Turtles, so I wore it like the emblem of a kingdom. Over the years I molded and shaped that cumbersome bag into the very essence of the curvature of my back. I used it every day throughout eighth grade, ninth grade, tenth grade, eleventh grade, twelfth grade, and my freshman year of college. This pack was like the faithful friend who you grow up with and is always there for you even when everyone else is against you, a steady weight on your back that gives you comfort and control in the worst circumstances, encouraging you when you need it and just hugging your back when there’s nothing to say. This backpack was an extension of me.

With regret I say that I believe the destruction of such a beautiful relationship to have been my fault. Last year it came to my mind that certain pieces of this pack were unnecessary, and like the cruel brother I attacked the thing with thoughts only of getting rid of unwanted things. I realize now my mistakes and that my actions were more hurtful than I could possibly have imagined: I cut one of the straps by mistake. By my thoughtlessness and carelessness I sought unwittingly to destroy the very thing I loved. This setback did not stop my backpack, however. I put some safety pins on it and we limped along together for almost a year. The angst of what I did is with me still today.

This year, though, my backpack began exhibiting extremely undesirable behavior. JanSports are notorious for their zippers giving out and my trusted friend was no exception. Again it was not unforeseen as the zipper had been sliding down a treacherously slippery slope to failure for quite some time. I had been patching here and there, and ignoring misbehaviors because I didn’t want to see the truth of the matter. But about two weeks ago it finally became too much, and since then I have been in the market for a new pack.

A couple days ago I went to Kohl’s and picked up a light brown corduroy Super Break (the original style JanSport) for $40. Unfortunately it is just over six liters smaller, although I realize that probably I don’t need the extra space. It is stiff and cold at this point, but the weight of it is reassuring and I think we’re going to get along okay. My old pack lies disregarded in the doorway of my closet, the hollow shell of its former glory, a broken thing unwanted and shunned. I should throw it away but I can’t bring myself to.

This entry was posted on Friday, October 8th, 2004 at 10:31 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.