Me And Bobby Sherman, We Had It Goin’ On!

Bobby Sherman, $199.99

( Photo credit: http://www.buzzfeed.com/briangalindo/31-lunch-boxes-from-the-1970s-that-are-worth-a-lot-of-money Sure wish I’d have saved mine…and yes, I would have sold Bobby out for that moolah!)

“Are you sure you want that lunch box?”

“I’m positive.”

My mother lifts her eye brows and picks up an ugly red and black checkered lunch box.

“How about this one?” She pleads.

“No. I want Bobby Sherman.”

“Don’t you think you’re a little young for Bobby Sherman?”

I cross my arms, poke my bottom lip out, and tap my foot. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at my sister who in turn just shrugs her shoulders and asks what the big deal is. After all, she is twelve and starting Jr. High so she’s over lunch boxes and into brown bagging it. Mama relents, and I hang onto my lunch box. Things I toss into the cart have a way of magically disappearing before we get to the Kmart checkout register. Next Mama insists I need a new book bag. They are all ugly. I don’t want one. Finally, Mama chooses an ugly green manly looking satchel. We argue about it and Mama says if I want the Bobby Sherman lunch box I’d take the book bag she picked out. I figure it didn’t matter because I’m not going to carry it anyway. I might only been going into second grade, but I know a target for jokes when I see one.

The night before the first day of school, I place my lunch box on the marble countertop and pull out the thermos. I tell Mama I want Kool -Aid in my thermos though I know I’ll get milk. I ask for peanut butter and jelly though I know I’d get bologna with mustard, and I hate mustard. But if I get to carry them around with Bobby Sherman smiling up at me, I can suck it up.

The next morning I am more excited about my lunchbox than I am about my new clothes. I rush through my wheat puffs without adding too much sugar like I usually do. I don’t even brush my teeth, or hair for that matter. I  grab my lunchbox and zip down the long gravel drive to wait for the school bus. My sister strolls down a few minutes later and throws the ugly green satchel at me.

“What’d you bring me that for?” I scowl at her.

“Because you need it.”

“Hmmph. No, I don’t.” I kick the soapstone dust with my shiny black Mary Janes, coating them a dull shade of gray.

“Why you gotta’ ruin everything?” I complain. She smirks and then pokes me in the arm just as the yellow appears at the top of the hill. I hold my lunch box in front of me so it will be the first thing my friends see when I get on.

All of my girlfriends ooh and aah over my lunch box. They argue over who I’m going to sit with.  We talk about how cute Bobby is and fight over which one of us is going to marry him. We even sing “Easy Come, Easy Go’, while my sister and her friends laugh at us.

When we get to the bus exchange I switch to the elementary bus. As soon as I get on the bus, an older girl, a sixth grader, pulls me onto her seat. She tells me I am lucky to have a mom who’d let me have a Bobby Sherman lunch box.

I soon find me and Bobby Sherman aren’t just the hit of the school bus girls but with all the girls in the school. I am the only one with a Bobby Sherman lunch box, and every girl, regardless of her age, is in love with Bobby.

I get invites from various girls to several lunch tables. I sit with my cousin and best friends. Sure enough Mama packs me milk which isn’t very cold and tastes almost sour. I pull the bologna off the mustardy bread and wipe it off with a napkin so I can eat it. I munch on my apple and a few lemon cookies. No matter what’s for lunch, I decide Bobby Sherman makes it better. I fold the rest of my cookies in the aluminum foil and later stash them in my book bag.

While Bobby Sherman gets a prize seat on the kitchen counter, I stuff the manly book bag into the back of my bedroom closet. I claim I lost it. A few weeks later Mama finds it…lucky me, the entire side has been chewed up by a mouse in search of those lemon cookies.

So not only do I get rid of the ugly manly satchel, but my Bobby Sherman lunch box grants me entrance to the big girl circles and is a free passport to the back of the school bus. Yes, Bobby Sherman brings a girl respect!

35 thoughts on “Me And Bobby Sherman, We Had It Goin’ On!

  1. Oh, how I loved reading this. I loved Bobby Sherman. My lunchbox was from Here Come the Brides and it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. When we were at the American History Smithsonian this summer, I paused in front of the lunch box display in the cafeteria. They truly represent period art to me; probably because they are one of the first artistically decorated items that belonged to me as a child. My Snoopy lunchbox was my other prize. What did we do with those priceless treasures? Ha ha ha. They are worth some money now!

  2. Great share, Suzi!

    I never had a lunch box . . . or a backpack for school. But we loved watching Here Come The Brides and the Monkees. My best friend planned to marry Bobby Sherman. I focused on Davy Jones. 😉

  3. What a fun story. I don’t know which element I enjoyed most — the buzz of popularity success your lunchbox gained for you or the spunky spirit you showed in your creative Mom work-arounds. Those are hard on moms, as most of us know from experience on the other side of that equation, but good training for getting along in life. I’d like to read more Mom work-around stories. I’ll bet you could fill a volume!

  4. Gosh, you had a Bobby Sherman lunch box? Wow, no wonder you were granted immediate popularity! We had school hot lunches — sometimes good, sometimes horrid! — which I suppose were designed so nobody would stand out and make the other kids jealous with their cool stuff. And I’ve got to admire how you “outfoxed” your mom with the ugly satchel! Great memory, Suzi.

  5. Oh my gosh – that brought back so many memories of lunch boxes at school. Mine? Sean Cassidy – not the Hardy Boys one, but the one of him all by himself, baby blue satin jacket, bell bottoms and that feathered back hair. Sigh!

    And by the way, I would have traded you my Mom’s tuna fish sandwich for your bologna and mustard sandwich any day of the week!

  6. This made me think back on the criteria for popularity, although I really remember little about my early elementary years. Moving on into junior and senior high, it was the socks and shoes (at that time, white bucks like Pat Boone wore with rolled down bobby sox, the larger the roll, the better), how many crinolines you had to wear under your skirts, and making sure they stuck out just a little bit at the bottom of the skirt. So many of the things that are really so unimportant in the broader scope of life, but critical at that time in our lives.

    • Funny how the fashion trends come and go…we are at the mercy of the industry and the media these days, except I don’t give them too much attention these days. Guess I had to grow up to get over it!

  7. Fun memory Suzicate. Older boy complains that the cute boys of his school are the members of One Direction. He sighs and shakes his head anytime they are mentioned–girls still be girls no matter the decade.

    And just for the record–I had an Evil Knievel box which was hip at the time.

    • It starts young, doesn’t it? For the record, I loved Evil Knievel, too! Funny, at that age I thought I might want to grow up to be a female version! Ha, it was before I developed a fear of heights, etc…

  8. Your post reminded me of a “clean and destroy” mission we performed in our garage a couple months ago. One item was our daughter’s LB with ABBA on it – which we recognized. A second lunch box had a picture of a handsome man sitting under a palm tree. The name printed on its side proclaimed it was a man named Gardner McKay. We scratched our head a few times before the old man remembered a TV program called “Adventures in Paradise.” He even hummed the theme.

  9. Oh Suzie, I nostalgically smiled throughout this post! I never had a Bobby Sherman lunchbox, but had plenty of Paul McCartney and Davy Jones spiral notebooks to gaze at during school hours!

  10. Ah Yes – Bobby Sherman, Davy Jones, David Cassidy, and my first, first grade crush – Paul McCartney. By high school it was posters of James Taylor in my room. Little crushes – very big at the time.

  11. I haven’t heard of Bobby Sherman (I’ll have to check out Wikipedia when I leave here :)) I was always secretive about my crushes because I didn’t want my parents- or worse, my brother- teasing me about it. The only lunchbox I remember was early in elementary school and it had a hideous cartoon shark on it. I balked at using it, so my dad covered the picture with dark wood-grain look contact paper. Oh, that was soooo much better!

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