In the divorce I got the Samsonite hardshell overnight suitcase, and my ex got the matching three-suiter. It was prophetic. In the past eight years, I have enjoyed one week in D.C., and five days in Lincoln one winter (and my luggage was delayed!). I've taken the guys on one driving trip to Nebraska, and some three-day weekend outings around Texas. The few times I've needed more than the overnight suitcase, I've shooed the brown recluse spiders out of the olive drab canvas Samsonite duffel I bought myself in high school thirty-two years ago, about the time I took my first big airplane ride--to Minneapolis.
My three-suiter ex (I briefly wrote three-suitor, and that would be correct also), has traveled around the globe to First World, Second World, Third World... He was always free to go, because I was always home to be the Parent On Duty. He would give me a three-day notice that he was leaving for a month in Bangladesh, or a year in Armenia. No problem. I've sent him several emails reminding him that I am LEAVING TOWN for a week to meet my parents in Santa Fe, and he needs to keep track of our high school senior. He can't be bothered to reply. Steven will be fine, and Mike will keep an eye on him as the responsible college brother. I have to believe I have raised them to exercise good sense.
I am sorry, however, to report that the vintage canvas duffel bit the dust. The zipper ripped out, and the sewn-in plastic framework popped out of the canvas. They just don't make them like they used to! That duffel was far more dependable, practical, and sturdy than my ex.
So, I was pleased to walk into Sears and see wheely suitcases on sale for Thirty-Nine Ninety-Nine. I don't want my gentlemanly eighty-one year-old father carrying my suitcases. I went ahead and bought the Cornhusker scarlet instead of the basic black. This wheely suitcase may not last thirty-two years. I hope to do a bit more traveling in the next thirty-two than in the past thirty-two.