The lunch pail was a metal box with a handle and a latch. You put your sandwich in it and your thermos fit in the side and you carried it to work and you carried it home. The lunch pail was the commute between your kitchen and your job. The lunch pail said you made your own food and you brought it with you because you could not afford to eat out and eating out was not a thing you did every day. Eating out was a special occasion. The lunch pail was every other day.

The lunch pail was dented. Every lunch pail was dented because the lunch pail went to work in a factory or on a construction site and things got dropped and things got bumped and the dents were the history of the job. A new lunch pail meant a new job. A dented lunch pail meant you had been there. The lunch pail was a résumé made of metal.

My father carried a black lunch pail to the printing plant on Varick Street for twenty-two years. My mother packed it every morning at five fifteen. Two sandwiches. A thermos of coffee. An apple. The apple was always there. The sandwich changed but the apple did not. The apple was the constant. The thermos was the warmth. The sandwich was the fuel. The lunch pail held all three and the lunch pail held them the same way every day because the lunch pail did not have opinions about what it carried.

Nobody carries a lunch pail now. They carry a bag. The bag is soft and the bag has a logo and the logo is the brand and the brand is the identity. The lunch pail had no logo. The lunch pail was not an identity. The lunch pail was a container. The bag says something about you. The lunch pail said something about the food. The food was the point. Now the container is the point. The lunch pail kept the sandwich warm. The bag keeps the brand visible.

See also: Pay Window, Ice Box