Hi-ho, Hi-ho, It's Off to Work We Go

Some things are just meant to be remembered.  I think it's those things that ground us.  Remind us of where we came from, where we are, and perhaps, where we would like to be.  They serve to take the edge off a rigid childhood.  They help buffer the not so pretty.  So it is with this lunch box.

Mom always packed Dad's lunch.  Every single day.  I don't recall him ever coming home at lunch time.Three staple items were toted in that lunch box:  thermos of coffee, a sandwich and a Moon Pie.  The coffee and Moon Pie were constants.  The sandwich was the variety.  Sometimes it would be P&P loaf, or ham, or bologna, or potted meat.  I don't seem to recall P, B & J making the cut. I think that was reserved for us kids.  No baggie of chips.  If it couldn't be wrapped with wax paper it didn't make the cut.  Except for one thing ~ on one embarrassing day ~ in the summer ~

Mom had packed Dad's lunch as usual.  Easy peasy.  Done.  Forgotten about.  Day goes on.
At the end of the day when Dad returned home from work he had a smirky grin on his face.  I can still see him standing by the kitchen sink as he places his lunch box on the counter and opens it up.  Inside, to the bewilderment of both Mom and Dad, was Mom's bathing suit top.  Can you imagine his surprise when he went to  get his lunch out?  Was he eating all alone or were his co-workers around, and if so, did he get his fair share of chaffing?  Did he take it as a flirt, an invite or what???  Mom - much to her horror had no idea how that top got in there! 

Never underestimate the power of a lunch box!

I remember very little of the conversation surrounding those events, (I was too busy trying to figure it out for myself!) but the sheer fact that something so out-of-the-ordinary happened to my parents still makes me smile.

Wouldn't I have liked to have been a fly on one or all of those walls that day!  This story may have had a different spin altogether.