Not long before our father died, my brother and I invited him to join us for a hike in Badlands National Park in South Dakota. He showed up carrying an old vintage leather and a canvas bag from God knows when. Come to find out, it belonged to Frank, our father’s college roommate who went off to Vietnam and never came home. He had filled the ancient canvas duffle backpack with glass jars of homemade jellies and jams, freshly baked bread, and pounds of salami. He was the walking antithesis of the go-light principle. But he carried it that day with a young man’s strength and determination as if for that day he was reborn. My brother and I still look back on that as one of the best days of our lives together.