Death of Summer

With the death of summer, I figured it was time to properly document the death of Brown Backpack.

Brown Backpack was born into the family when Dad adopted it at some work conference many moons ago. It was probably the best gift he had ever brought home from a conference thus far in his career. The value of Brown Backpack far exceeded the value of White Shoehorn and Iomega Hat combined. So there it was. Forever part of our family. Always in our hearts.

Here is the eulogy I wrote shortly after Brown Backpack bit the dust:

Dear Brethren,

Let us take a moment of silence this morning to mourn the loss of the beloved brown backpack.

I don’t know that I ever got to use it, but I know it was a large part of your childhood camping trips.  It was time for it to go.  It was suffering.  I think it had cancer.  It will be properly buried in a Florida landfill somewhere, which are the highest points that dot the Florida landscape, a perfect memorial.

We thank you for your service, Brown Backpack.

I send my condolences to you all who are probably suffering more than me.

All my love,

Michelle

David’s kind words:

I rejoice that I was able to hang that beloved antique on my young shoulders for many a mile. May the dust that caked its surface from all over the country find rest in the Florida landfill sunshine. May the rodents find one final meal of trail mix residue from the deepest crevices of the pockets. Oh, the beauties that pack beheld from the backsides of its bearers! The final rest stop timer has sounded. The journey is o’er!

And Jeff summed it up:

It perpetually smelled of vomit.

R.I.P. Brown Backpack

1800 – 2014