I am a terrible packer. If I have improved over the last thirty years, it is by inches, not miles. I often create a packing list, pack my suitcase, fly to my destination, only to open my bag and be surprised and disappointed at what I have and do not have available.
Like, who packed this stuff, and where did she think she was going?
I’ve had to buy t-shirts in places too warm, sweatshirts for nights too cool, socks in multiple destinations, and my accidental souvenir baseball cap collection is extensive. I often forget to pack a hat, even though HAT is clearly on my list. I suffer from a complete inability to imagine my life in a different location. I want to have my favorites along, even if my favorites make no sense where I am going. I am not a minimalist nor a maximalist. I’m just random, and random is not a good quality for packing.
This past March, we took a quick trip to Florida. It was our family of five and a guest. In deference to our special guest, we allowed her to check a suitcase. Bags do not typically get checked in this family. You only bring what you can carry, like the early settlers. So bag checking is a rare luxury, and once we found out someone was allowed to check a bag, two others followed. Opportunity to bring more things I don’t need — yes, please.
There are some strong stereotypes when it comes to packing, and in this house, we yield to all of them. The three women checked suitcases, and the three men carried one backpack each. All black. All moderately sized. Everything they needed for five days fit in a backpack?
There is an argument that men can wear the same clothes in multiple settings more easily than women. Or maybe we just enjoy choices. Multiple swimsuits. Outfits for day and night. Options for shoes. Coastal beach vibes. The men, bless them, had only what they needed. No more, no less. One traveler did forget their toothbrush, but I will not be mentioning names (a man). We bought another. But other than that, they won. We had way too many “just in case” items.
This affinity for packing extends beyond travel. My daughter recently moved from one apartment to another. Let me rephrase. WE recently moved my daughter from point A to point B. She was dubious when her dad insisted the largest items could be transported in one trip, even going so far as to try to get ME to intervene.
“Dad thinks the entertainment center will fit and the nightstand. Dad also thinks the whole bed is going on top of his car. The frame and everything. Dad thinks it will only take one trip. We should say something.”
WE? Uh, no thank you. I simply said, “Let Dad be Dad. He is magic when it comes to packing.” And he is. He does a 45-second visual assessment while my daughter and I chew our nails nervously. Items got turned and shifted and stacked like the world’s worst three-dimensional puzzle. Then it was done. In one trip. In fact, while she and I went to bring up end tables and a lamp, he had already reassembled her bed.
In 1968, my parents found themselves packing haphazardly for the long drive to Augusta, Georgia, for Army training. They stayed at a series of questionable hotels along the way, none of which would make any travel guide. It was wartime, but normal things persist even in precarious times, and my mom needed her hair dryer out of the car's top carrier.
She remembers watching my dad from the hotel window as he rifled through their jumbled belongings to locate it. He was happy to oblige. However, he did pack up everything quite ‘differently’ on the way home. I swear it’s innate.
May we appreciate the men in our lives. Let us make space for them and their mysterious packing ways. We celebrate those who make mattresses fit on tiny cars and throw case goods into impossible trunks. They free up so much room for those who need it.
Jen Fortner is a freelance writer who enjoys asking friends and strangers far too many questions. She spends her spare time sitting in inclement weather watching youth sports, traveling, cooking, and searching for the very best baked goods. She lives in Shorewood with her husband, three children and the most spoiled dog.