The Legend of the Lunchbox
Here’s one I told him.
Dad was working on the second shift a week before Christmas, and things around the lab were quiet. The old axiom, “An idle mind is the Devil’s workshop,” certainly applied to my Father. There was no doubt that boredom was the fuel that ran his practical joke machine.
The victim this evening was Vernon. Vernon worked in the lab with Dad, providing him with samples to analyze. I’ll kindly say that Vernon wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. And having known Vernon personally, I think he might have been scared of my old man. Dad liked Vernon a lot. But that wouldn’t save him on this particular night.
Daddy began his prank by pretending to be mad because Vernon hadn’t given him a Christmas present. He faked outrage saying, “I can’t believe this. After all I do for you - and you didn’t even get me as much as a package of chewing gum!” Vernon didn’t know what to say. He tried to come up a good excuse, but Dad remained faux angry.
Everyone in the laboratory knew Vernon had a prized possession - his lunch box. It was just an old metal lunch pail, but to him it as was special as the One Ring was to Gollum. So Dad took it from the kitchen and hid it in his office. Then in a stroke of practical joking genius, Dad got one of his co workers to tell Vernon that he was so upset about the Christmas snub he planned to take the lunch box home with him.
Distraught, Vernon began skulking around the lab, peeking in drawers and corners until my Father’s glare drove him out. Tension was building. Sensing this, Dad took an old coffee can and put it in a paper bag. Time for the coupe de gras.
He took the package and headed for the back door saying loudly, “Hey Glenn, I’ll be back in a minute. I’ve got something I’ve got to take to my car.” With that, he tapped the paper bag on the counter, making a loud clang. Then he reached for the knob.
Vernon ran in and screamed, “I know what you got in that bag! I want my lunch pail!
Dad, fully expecting that response, pulled a hammer out of his jacket and yelled, ”Here’s what I think of your lunch pail!” And with that, he hit the bag, making a sick, metallic thud. Thor himself could not wield a hammer like this.
Vernon wailed with each stroke Dad made. It was almost rhythmical.
Wham! “Aaaaagh!”
Wham! “Aaaaagh!”
Wham! “Aaaaagh!”
Within seconds the paper bag was flatter than a tenor with a head cold.
Dad immediately pulled the mangled piece of metal out of the bag. Seeing that it wasn’t his beloved lunch box, Vernon almost cried with relief. But of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have to work to get it back. Dad gave Vernon a piece of paper with a dozen clues as to the location of his Precious. So for the next half hour, he engaged in a makeshift scavenger hunt throughout the laboratory. Finally, he found it hidden in the back corner of a cabinet.
This story is told and retold at every Hobby family gathering. There’s no need to embellish it - it happened just like I wrote it. And I’ve thought about this story many times. I guess all the harassment and practical jokes my Father played on anyone was just a way of showing that he liked them. He didn’t say, “I love you” to us very often, but we knew he did. And he regularly aggravated the daylights out of my younger sister and me.
A few years after the lunchbox incident Vernon passed away. His family specifically asked Dad to speak at the funeral. It was an offer he proudly accepted. A number of people who were there told me that Dad was so choked up he was almost unable to finish the eulogy.
So, you don’t always have to smash a man’s lunch box to show him that you care.
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