I’ve spent most of my career as a traveling salesman， and I know that there’s nothing lonelier than a bunch of salesmen eating their meals in a motel coffee shop.
One year， my five-year-old daughter pressed a gift into my hands. The wrapping paper was all twisted， and it was bound together into a shapeless mass by at least a mile of tape. I gave her a big hug and sloppy kiss—the kind that all daddies give—and proceeded to unwrap the little package she had bestowed on me. The contents hidden within felt kind of soft， and I was very careful not to cause any damage. With excitement radiating from her face， little brown-eyed Jeanine stood attentively beside me in her too-small pajamas while I completed the process of unraveling my surprise. A pair of black， beady eyes peeked out from their papery hiding place， then a yellow beak， a red bow tie， and orange feet. It was a stuffed toy penguin that stood about five inches tall. Attached to its right wing with still wet paste was a tiny， wooden sign， and a hand-painted declaration， “I Love My Dad！” Beneath it was a hand-drawn heart， colored with crayon. Tears welled up in my eyes and immediately I gave it a special place on my dresser.
Seldom did much time pass before I had to leave on another business trip. One morning when I was packing， I tossed the penguin in my suitcase. That night when I called home， Jeanine was very upset that the penguin had disappeared. “Honey， it’s here with me，” I explained. “I brought it along.” After that day， she always helped me pack， and saw to it that the penguin went in along with my socks and shaving kit. Many years have gone by since then， and that little penguin has traveled hundreds of thousands of miles all across America and over to Europe. And we have made many friends along the way.
In Albuquerque， I checked into a hotel， dumped out my bag and dashed to a meeting. When I returned， I found the bed turned down and the penguin propped up on the pillow. In Boston， upon returning to my room one evening， somebody had perched it in an empty drinking glass on the nightstand—it never did stand up that well.