Back to School with Batman
Social media was all a-Twitter with outrage earlier this week when it was announced Ben Affleck has been cast as Batman in the upcoming sequel to “Man of Steel.”
As someone who routinely wore Bat Gloves complemented by a bath towel safety-pinned around my neck to kindergarten, I am more steamed that Batman is guest starring in a Superman movie rather than the other way around.
But here is what really got my Bat Tights in a twisted bunch – the fact that my mom long ago tossed out the “Batman and Robin” lunchbox I used in first grade. On eBay these lunchboxes produced in 1966, the year the Batman TV series debuted, are now collectibles selling for more than $200 – higher if the Thermos is still intact. The fact that any of the Thermoses have survived nearly five decades boggles my mind because I am fairly certain I dropped mine and shattered its glass liner within five days.
The lunchbox itself was far more durable. This was a good thing because while Batman had to contend with the Joker, Riddler and Penguin, my super villain was Adam – a lunch-stealing black lab about the size of a grizzly bear who lived along my walking route to school.
I should point out that my mom packed my lunch pretty much every school day of my elementary life. That is roughly 1,100 lunches. All of them, I believe, were Oscar Meyer bologna on white Wonder Bread along with either two Hostess Ho-Ho’s or one larger Ding-Dong.
My great friend Dan Means’ mom, meanwhile, always packed him a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich and Fritos. One memorable day in first grade, Dan had trouble opening the mini-bag of corn chips. His frustration growing, Dan gripped the opposite sides of the bag extra tightly and gave a mighty tug and . . .
. . . RIPPP! Whoosh! The entire sealed seam at the top gave way, sending Fritos flying everywhere, high and far, like confetti shot from a cannon. A few Fritos even got caught in the long florescent light fixtures high overhead that looked like ice-cube trays turned upside-down.
In my entire life I have yet to meet someone with a better laugh than Dan’s – it was half-cackle and half-emergency-asthma attack – and he never used it more enthusiastically than at that very moment.
Adam, however, was no laughing matter. I cannot tell you how many times I was lunch-jacked by him on my walk to school, though an estimate of two dozen might be on the shy side.
The first couple times Adam confronted me, I tried freezing in my tracks and commanding him to stop. This was as pointless as asking a mugger to put his gun away and leave nicely. The best thing to do was drop your lunch and run before Adam knocked you over while taking it. Trying to outrun Adam from the get-go was futile.
You might think my bologna sandwich and Ho-Ho’s were safe inside my metal Batman lunchbox. You would be wrong. Somehow he managed to unlatch it. I reckon Adam could have cracked open a bank safe if there were Ho-Ho’s inside.
Even kids who did not have to walk or ride their bikes past Adam’s house on the way to school were not safe from his lunch-jackings. Like a hungry dragon, if Adam was not sufficiently fed he came looking for villagers.
Adam routinely got loose and roamed a mile to school before the morning bell. At the sight of him the playground would erupt in frenzied terror with screaming kids scattering and fleeing this way and that like frightened beachgoers in the movie “Jaws.”
After each incident, teachers would tally up the casualties and the principal would phone the mom of the family who owned Adam. Mrs. Young would then make, pack and bring the required number of replacement lunches.
To be honest, except for the trauma of it, having your lunch stolen by Adam actually was not so bad – it was sort of a badge of honor. Plus, Mrs. Young packed homemade chocolate-chip cookies.
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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME comes out in September and is available for pre-order at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.