Bud Caldwell’s suitcase very rarely ever leaves his side and symbolizes comfort, guidance, and belonging throughout the novel. In the suitcase, Bud keeps flyers of Herman E. Calloway’s band, his mother’s rocks, a blanket, and a picture of his mother as a child. In many ways, Bud’s suitcase is both his version of a traveling home and a traveling parent. It gives him some sense of stability and comfort amidst a very volatile period in his life, characterized by abusive foster parents, homelessness, hunger, and poverty. In carrying a picture of his mother and the rocks that once belonged to her, Bud is able to feel closer to her and feel like somewhere out there, there are people who care about him. Moreover, Bud often turns to his suitcase and its contents for comfort, whenever he needs a blanket to sleep on, needs to remember his “father’s” face, or needs to remind himself of his mother and her stories. Bud only gives his suitcase up—though not its contents—when he finds a place and people he feels like he belongs with. The band gifts bud with a refurbished saxophone case to use in place of his suitcase, symbolizing his newfound place among his newfound family.
Bud’s Suitcase Quotes in Bud, Not Buddy
I knew a nervous-looking, stung up kid with blood dripping from a fish-head bite and carrying a old raggedy suitcase didn’t look like he belonged around here.
I opened my eyes to start looking for Miss Hill. She wasn’t at the lending desk, so I left my suitcase with the white lady there. I knew it would be safe.
The picture looked like it belonged. It’s strange the way things turn out, here I’d been carrying Momma around for all this time and I’d finally put her somewhere where she wanted to be, back in her own bedroom, back amongst all her horses.