I broke the heat of New York by heading south to Atlanta for a couple of days, where the temp climbed a few more degrees, but my mother has air conditioning in her house (a treat for a New York apartment city dweller. I'm blown away down here by the fact that kids begin school this Monday in Georgia (NYC not starting for another month and a half). What blew me away more was the article run in this weekend's Wall Street Journal.,shaming my own childhood and memories of 1st days of school.

the article (wich forgive me as I heard it on Audible, so I don't have it linked here) was this year's review on the hottest lunch boxes to hit the shelves. Reviewed by 2 children, the boxes rose to the top depending on their versatility and use of space.

What ever happened to the shamless and over-marketed metal boxes with your favorite cartoons? They were all the exact same box, but with different painted images on the front that would peal off on a hot summer day when school busses would line up in the K-Mart parking lot as I left with my new shoes and Six Million Dollar Man lunch box. I didn't care if it had extra pockets for snachs, or if it could fit in my book bag (why would you want to hide such a wonderful display of Yoda or the Dukes of Hazard?). Lunch boxes where a symbol of artistic taste. Didn't matter if the Six Million Dollar Man came on after my bed time. He just looked cool picking up that giant rock that shielded my juice box and Jiffy & jam sandwich. He was strong, powerful, and worth a whole lot of money. I was short, with glasses the side of my head, and lanky. I didn't care about ergonomics in my lunch box. I just needed it as a weapon against would-be lunch thiefs on the playground. And that thing could leave a bruise.

Ah, the good 'ol days... And thus is born another meek, four-eyed kid who saw the pen as something mightier than the sword. And if you didn't have a pen, get a lunch box that could leave a bruise.