A Tribute To Rus

I have a traveling companion whom I have been taking trips with now for about 10 years. His name is Rus, and we have gone some exciting places together. He has been faithful and loyal and loves taking trips with me. Sometimes we travel just the two of us and sometimes others join us. Rus even came along on my honeymoon.

Rus is my suitcase.



Years ago, I saw a story on the news about luggage theft. They said that if you carry an ugly suitcase, then people won't think you have anything good and therefore would be less likely to rummage through it or steal it. Made sense to me, and I kept the tidbit of information in the back of my mind.

Some time after that I was working for a dentist who would bring random things to work that he intended on getting rid of, to see if any of the staff wanted whatever it was before he discarded it. One day I walked into the break room and there it was. The most hideous suitcase I had ever laid eyes on. It was perfect.




It had black, faux leather with big brass buckles (Pilgrim style). It was tattered and torn and had stickers stuck to it. On one of the earlier trips the handle broke and Dale just fastened it back together with a zip-tie, which added yet another element of ugliness, but made it more charming to me. It is gawdy and big and unmistakable. I could always spot it a mile away at baggage claim. I loved it.





When Dale and I flew to Las Vegas to get married, I was sitting on the window seat watching the luggage being loaded onto the plane. I saw my unsightly but lovable suitcase on its way up the conveyor belt and his name came to me in an instant. I names him Rus. It stands for Ridiculously Ugly Suitcase.



I've decided to put Rus into retirement indefinitely. Maybe I am getting shallower as I age, I don't know. But more and more I am embarrassed by him. Isn't that sad? He's been so good to me, and I am ashamed of him. I even feel bad about it. Sometimes I get emotionally attached to inanimate objects. Like when I traded in my old car last year, I couldn't even look back at it as I drove away in my new car. I really was kind of sad...I wanted my old car to know how much I loved it and what a good car it had been and that the only reason we had to get rid of it was because Rowan came along and we couldn't fit two car seats in the back and that secretly I don't love my new car as much and that I really miss it and ...Sorry, I got off on a tangent. Where was I?



So Rus has a new home in the Harry Potter Room (that's what Dale and I call our little storage closet under the stairs) in between my old tennis racket and our golf clubs.



Thank you for many good years, Rus. It's been a good ride.