I have a backpack, with a preposterous name and a long story. I’ve used it for 20 years of my 35 year life. I’ve lately embraced a nomadic obsession with a spinning off of possessions. Every time I’m in my old home, I eyeball my piles of stuff thinking of what I could possibly sell or donate. Old things are like a chain and ball tied to the ankle- reducing optionality. The backpack is the only exception- it’s been with me nearly everywhere and I plan on using it until my end or its own end.
I grabbed it from a pile of second-hand backpacks as I headed off to my first day of class at community college, and ended up bringing it with me when I transferred for my Bachelor’s. I used it on both my study abroad trips, and afterwards it evolved to become my day-to-day backpack going to and from work. Working at a farm, I always wanted my painkillers, allergy medication, etc on hand, so it was (and is) my mobile pharmacy. It also usually has spare clothes for all the different forecasts, and usually a notebook, a book to read if I ever get stuck somewhere. I’m basically ready to go for a day trip at all times, with that thing with me.
I ended up bringing it with me on my first long solo trip abroad 5 years after college, and so I continued with my patch tradition. Each patch symbolizes one trip to a country, so I double up as I repeat favorite countries- but each patch carries unique memories for the individual trips.
The picture I’ve featured is from today, as I brainstorm the layout of the next patch upgrade. This whole section is just the very eventful November 2022 to June 2023 I’ve had.
At this point, the zipper has failed (long ago) and I modded it into a drawstring style pack. I paid a very skilled seamstress in Krakow to completely redo the bottom to last another decade or so (hopefully) til the next repair. It’s mostly in great shape, but my plan now is to strategically strengthen it with the patches I add. I have incentive to rack up new countries as I work to shore it up for the next 20 years of what life will bring.
My backpack’s name is Boject the Second (the preposterous name), so I’ll share how it got that name. When my second-oldest sister was in highschool, she had a favorite backpack. She bought it because it was high quality- complete with a lifetime warranty. It also had a name- Boject- a portmanteau of “botard” and “reject,” the nicknames she and her best friend had for each other. They joked that the backpack was their child (long story, not now!) Anyways, the zipper got busted at one point, and she sent the backpack in for repair, per the warranty. She included a letter explaining how much the backpack meant to her and how she wanted it repaired- not replaced.
Sure enough, the heartless folks at the depot sent in a nameless, faceless replacement. Boject was gone forever. My sister failed to ever develop the same connection to the pack- so off she cast it- into our family’s massive bin of second-hand backpacks. Being a family of four, we did lots of hand-me-downs. We always had boxes and bins of clothing and such, waiting their turn.
So when I was headed off to community college for the first time, I hadn’t bought a new backpack yet. My mom said- “Grab one from the bin! We have tons there.”
Probably a year later, I was visiting my sister and had brought the backpack with me on the trip. She saw it and said “That’s Boject the Second!” She explained the backstory and I learned my favorite had a name- and history. Back then, it hadn’t experienced nearly as much as it has now, but the story was amusing for me and I figured, heck, it’s a decent quality backpack, I’ll try to get as much out of it as I can.
Twenty years later, it’s a conversation piece, an icebreaker, and a living document of symbols of where I’ve been. Sometimes, the socially reticent part of me feels a bit embarrassed to have it- it feels very “American” to have something so flashy. In the end, though, I am proud of the things I’ve done in all the locations and it often starts conversations with natives from the countries I’ve been to. For that reason, I’ll keep repairing it, modding it, doing what’s needed to see it through the years.
The Wandering Farmer (an feirmeoir fánach) 
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