Carry On

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There’s a line in Dan Seals’ “Everything that Glitters (Is not Gold)” where the narrator, a rodeo guy, is talking about his horse:

Old Red he’s getting older

And last Saturday he stumbled

But you know I just can’t bear to let him go

That always kind of breaks my heart. And, I’m not in the rodeo, but I am on a circuit of sorts: always boarding a plane for some other place. And, the time’s finally come to retire the carryon that’s kept my stuff safe for probably four years now—100,00 miles, I’d guess? Probably a lot more. There were a couple other bags in between—better wheels, longer handles, outside pockets—but they wore out fast. This little one always hung around. But, this last trip to Providence, it finally started stumbling. In the luggage world, that means I got stuck on two jetways, trying to get the bent handle to retract. Anyway, goodbye to this one also means goodbye to all my favorite stickers:

I’ve already got a new one shipping my way, but it’s all different from this one, and it’ll never have a Fango sticker on it, I don’t think. Or a Jonesy. Or any Stan Yan.

I just can’t bear to let it go, no. But I guess it is “stuff,” as George Carlin says. Still, there’s stuff and there’s stuff, I figure.

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is the author of 22 or 23 books, 250+ stories, and all this stuff here. He lives in Boulder, Colorado, and has a few broken-down old trucks, one PhD, and way too many boots

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