Ode to a backpack

Four years prior to high school, I used to ride my bike to school when I started the sixth grade. For the first couple of weeks, it was a breeze. However, the day came when I would have my first actual homework assignment for my Math class. I was not able to co-ordinate holding that thick book with one hand and steer with the other. I hit a wall about a block away from school and fell off my bike. When I looked up, my Math book was standing up on its end on the top of the wall. It's too bad no one videotaped that. It would have gone viral.

I came home and told Dad what happened. I was more mad that I had homework than I was at my inability to navigate my bicycle with one hand. We immediately went out to the store and bought me a backpack. It was bright orange and was designed to go hunting with so that other hunters could see you more clearly and know not to shoot at you.

This was before backpacks started becoming common carriers for school supplies. There were not a lot of other students who had them. We appeared to be starting a trend.

I had that backpack for four years. I continued to use it through the seventh, eighth and ninth grades. My family also used it when we went on camping trips. It was very rugged. I took good care of it all four years.

One thing I haven't mentioned about Loyd up to this point is that Dad always said that he had the exact opposite of the Midas Touch in which everything he touched turned to ****. Almost anything he got his hands on, whether it was toys, books, crayons, pens, pencils, etc., wound up getting broken or lost. Much later, this would apply to cars.

Since I was going to be driving a car to school soon and would be keeping my schoolbooks in my car, I didn't need the backpack. I decided to go ahead and let Loyd use the backpack when he was in the seventh grade. Like I said, I had that backpack for four years and used it in sunshine, wind, rain and snow.

Loyd came home from the second day of school and the backpack was torn beyond what could be considered useful. I don't know how he did it. I was really angry. Even though I had given it to him, I still felt like it was my backpack and that he didn't care about everything I went through when I was wearing it.

Dad took him out and got another backpack. I don't know what was so special about that backpack, but he somehow managed to continue using it without tearing it up. Years later, I wonder if he didn't tear mine up on purpose. I have previously explained that Loyd did not like being younger than me. This meant he had to wear my hand-me-downs more often than he got new clothes. I wonder if he was really sick of getting stuff that I had cast off and this was his way of taking out his frustration.

However, I should point out that he didn't have a problem with taking my Solo and Ensemble medals that I had gotten in Choir. He pinned them to his band jacket and claimed that he had won them. He wound up losing those, too.