But as he leaves, my mind is filled with memories. The one I want to share today is about my suitcase. This is from something a wrote in 2009.
One story that needs telling is about my mission luggage. After I got my mission call to Bolivia, we starting talking supplies. Dad was adamant that I buy a suitcase from the D.I. He said something like, "You are going to a developing country. Think of how bad those Bolivians will feel if some rich American comes to their country toting expensive luggage? They will either avoid you or try to rob you, either way you'll do better with something used. Besides, it will cost less."
Maybe I should have listened to the materialistic knot in my stomach and bought some good luggage, but I've never been very good at going against my dad's advice. So we went to the DI and picked up a brown, hard-sided deal that was vintage 1974. After we brought it home, we found that the locks weren't perfectly functioning and in the end, we had to rely on a luggage strap to keep my belongings from being strewn across the MTC hallway. (Uncle Brad also generously gave me some soft sided Lands End duffles--but none of this luggage had wheels.)
You can imagine how I stood out at the MTC. When the fam dropped me off, Dad took more pictures of the suitcase than of me, I think. I'm glad I could make him proud in some way--his first missionary child and her suitcase were the same age. My MTC companion named it "Guillermo" and so it became.
As I packed up for the big flight to Bolivia, I took out my spare duct tape to reinforce the efforts of the luggage strap (much more was at stake at that point). Guillermo and I arrived in our new country only a little shaken and started our adventures in a foreign land. Luckily I led a pretty stable mission life--I only had two transfers. Each time, I loaded up the suitcase and wrapped it snugly with duct tape. Carrying it was never fun, but I usually had someone to help. Each time I left things behind and brought on new treasures until finally it was time to go home. I left as many dresses and shoes as I could and filled my luggage with various mementos I'd gathered along the way.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe I was the only one with poorly functioning luggage for my mission. I know Mark got a sweet piece of luggage for Christmas. I don't tell you this story to make you feel sorry for me (although maybe you should), but because it is a fun memory of Dad. I never looked at the suitcase without thinking of him and feeling his great support of me on my mission and his stand against materialism.
In the same spirit of the suitcase, Dad helped Rob and I find the first car we bought together: a 1989 Oldsmobile Delta 88. We were headed to Ohio and needed the ultimate wheeled luggage--a huge grandpa car to fit as many belongings as possible. Since it only had 45,000 miles on it, it would be reliable for a long time and cheap. We drove it for five years and even named it "Guillermo."
Steven 9/30
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