The A.M. Lunchman is a legend; at least to me, he is legendary. There is mythos surrounding him, but he is not a myth. He is real.
He is my dad.
Growing up, I had what the kids called “cold lunch”. You know, brown bagging it. And for some reason or another, my dad (read: hero) began to write on my lunch sacks.
- First it was just my name.
- Then my nickname.
- Then elaborate artistic renditions of my nickname.
Soon the A.M. Lunchman was spawned, complete with an arsenal of personal diatribes on life. My lunch sack was soon full of musical references, home-style poetic pondering, and off-beat humor.
I was in High School, mind you.
But my friends loved it. A few of us would come together around the sack (sacred gathering?) and I would recite it out loud, like some kind of mystic reading to start our day. My dad became a cult figure to us, like a lunch-making Bruce Campbell. (Except he looks like Dennis Hopper with Willie Nelson’s hair.)
I began to save the sacks. And now, over twenty years later, I opened the vault. Unfolding them one at a time with a careful touch (think archaeological awe) I have been scanning and retouching – and I will be sharing them with you as I go.
As the A.M. Lunchman so eloquently says: Aint Life Grand?
hay sean thats so cool I remember when I was in school little as I did go but my mom would whenever I would take a bagged lunch would always write a love note and take a love bite out of my sandwhich man I miss taking sack lunches