My Father's Puma Bag

In June of 1974, my father came to Canada. Recently, he told me he arrived with a suitcase and the Puma bag you see in the photo. The bag has been in storage for over 45 years. And by storage, I mean it's been in a container, in the basement, with other items that make up the rich history that is the story of my parents' lives.

I'm not sure why we, the kids, never used this bag. We never used it in play, never used it for travel; the origin story of the bag was never a topic of conversation. I think we figured the bag was off-limits. And for some reason, we accepted it was not to be handled. Not until now.

In the next couple of weeks, I will be travelling to Croatia. I am setting out on my next chapter, my pandemic pivot. The plan is to bring the bag with me.

The bag needs some TLC; yesterday, I dropped it off to get a new zipper. The store owner recommends I don't fix anything else on the bag; he says the marks on the bag are part of its story. The bag should be ready before I leave.

Forty-seven years ago, my father left his hometown in Bosnia Hercegovina with this bag and, I presume, many goals and fears mixed with a $@%& load of determination. I'm grateful that 47 years later, I get to bring this bag with me as I set out on my journey, filled with goals, fears, and determination.

Different times. Different stories. Same bag. I like that.

To be continued…