Dennis Sommers

According to those familiar with the subject, Moses took a shining to Zipporah at a local watering hole after which she invited him to dinner at her folk’s house. Despite meeting his future in-laws, they were married anyway and had two sons. Then God sent Moses on a business trip to Egypt to free the Israelites. Zipporah also took time off to tag along.

In those days, getting ready for travel was easy. The kids could stay behind with Hebrew Childcare Services. The man of the tent would visit the well to fill a sheep skin bag with water while the wife took care of most of the rest. This likely included finding a toy chariot or spinning top to entertain kids left behind, gathering pack animal feed (hemp granola with dried blueberries), a blanket or two, a loaf of Wonder Bread and a ring of bologna for sandwiches to avoid stopping at a diner along the way. All this along with a change of underwear was crammed into a satchel and slung over the family camel’s hump. It wasn’t all that tough to pack for travel back then. Things are different now.

For a different business trip, Rita and I rolled out of bed in what should have been plenty of time to get ready. She turned on lights in every room of the house, then read a few recipes while watching “Gunsmoke.” Later, she began trying on outfits to determine which might bedazzle at planned or unexpected outings, then focused on several dozen pairs of shoes, deciding which eight or ten might go best with each getup.

After more coffee, text messages and forwarding of a few hundred Snapchat photos, several sets of pajamas were added to various heaps of fashions and crucial beauty paraphernalia piled on the bed. Once transferred to suitcases, I sat on each one as she wrestled to zip them closed. Naturally, the house had to be dusted and vacuumed top to bottom in case the plane went down and a surviving relative might discover a speck of dust somewhere, indicating we lived in total squalor.

I, on the other hand, packed a carry-on the night before with all essentials, as men do for trips. Besides a toothbrush, comb and change of underwear, I included two golf shirts with matching shorts, a golf glove, a dozen Titlest Pro V1s and a launch monitor in case an unexpected invitation to the links materialized.

I lugged a ton of baggage to the garage, shoehorned all into the car, then crawled in and cranked the engine. After a lengthy wait for Rita, I shut the car off (gas $4+/gal). When she finally emerged and got in the car, I bailed out to run inside and switch off all lights.

As we rolled out, Rita demanded a stop at HeBrew Coffee for a double-shot mocha choka frappachino kafeh skinny. Near the airport, she announced, “I left my I.D. at home.” I spun a U-ee and raced back home, one foot on the gas, the other on the brake. With baggage checked and the TSA Ninja Warrior gauntlet behind us, we found our gate to learn boarding had already begun.

As I sat in my seat gasping for breath, Rita grumbled, “I don’t know why you’re always in such a hot hurry. We got here in plenty of time.”

I get it now. As happened to me days later, Moses’ forty-year return to the promised land from a business trip no doubt related to his wife’s insistence on stopping at every Costco along the Exodus Trail. Souvenirs were needed for the grandkids back home. Everything had to be wrapped, then jammed into yet more satchels along with Egyptian trinkets and baubles the kids would treasure for most of ten minutes. God forbid returning to face grandchildren empty-handed.

Sommers is a retired Minot orthodontist, violinist with the Minot Symphony and author of the book, “Retirement? You Can’t HANDLE the Truth!”