First in a long line of crazed animals–Muntz the dog–not my father.
No, my father was the middle child of nine in a family who’s claim to fame was that they were so poor they had to “share underwear.” The helmet baffles me since my father had zero interest in team sport. Being a joiner revolted him as if in some way it would lessen his individuality. But then maybe being the middle kid of nine puts one in that state of mind. To his horror our school voted him in to be PTO President based solely on his smile and humor. He tendered his resignation three days later. And let’s face it, being the kid who saved money from his paper route to buy the first car the family ever owned and being the only kid his father had any faith in was enough responsibility. When his parents died a week apart, my father blamed my mother for forcing him to move a few towns away because if he’d have been there things wouldn’t have gone so terribly wrong. When my uncle (already a basket case after serving in the Pacific) had a breakdown and came to live with us, my father couldn’t get any sleep, listening to my uncle sobbing all night and finally had to kick him out–”Okay, you’ve been here a week sleeping in my kids’ bunk bed. The parents are dead. Get over it.”
And maybe the helmet says it all–just enough armor to save others, not enough to save himself.
Muntz TV
Random info: Madman Muntz was an engineer and businessman with an alter ego TV personality who made weird commercials.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madman_Muntz
