The travelling suitcase
This little green “train case,” as it was called way back then, became mine when I was just 12 years old. It was a gift from my dad on my 12th birthday and a huge and wonderful surprise.
As a little girl in love with ballet, I couldn’t wait for Saturday mornings when I took my classes. I carried my ballet slippers in a paper grocery bag–we didn’t have plastic grocery bags back then, and bread was wrapped in waxed paper. Anyway, it seemed like all the other girls at ballet had a train case, and I desperately wanted one, too. My dad always spoiled me and got me the most unique gifts (like a portable record player with detachable speakers and a fake white fur coat that Mom knew would get dirty quickly).
I used that case every time I went to ballet, and pretty soon, it carried not just my ballet slippers but also my pointe shoes, lamb’s wool and bandaids, lots of bandaids.
When I married and gave birth to Angie, I used the train case as a diaper bag. When I no longer needed a diaper bag, I gave the train case to Angie, who carried her Barbies and all their dresses and accessories in it. She lugged that case around with her everywhere, calling it her “kootcase.”
When Angie no longer needed it, she passed it on to Neil, who carried his Lego bricks in it. It was just perfect for his massive collection of Legos.
When Neil was done with it, it somehow made its way back to Angie, where Austin and Lindsay stored their Lego bricks.
And now, almost 64 years later, it’s mine again. It’s filled with photographs of the kids and grandkids. But, then, what else would be in it?
It’s battered and worn, but I think of my dad every time I look at it, and that makes me happy.