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Computer graphics instructor Kenneth Holcomb is on his way to work. He carries with him his notebooks, his pens, and his metal "Six-Million Dollar Man" lunchbox.

That's right, lunchbox.

"I carry a lunchbox to work several times a week," says the Severna Park, Md., man. "They are the perfect size to store 3.5 discs."

A few years ago, when Holcomb was learning page design for World Wide Web use, he also was beginning to amass a serious collection of boxes. He looked around for other Web sites devoted to his passion. Finding none, he got to work designing "The Land of the Lunchboxes."

The Web page lists market value for lunchboxes, pictures, even a lunchbox of the month.

How did an otherwise serious computer graphics instructor end up scanning pictures of Roy Rogers lunchboxes to upload to the Web? Well, of course, it goes back to his childhood. "I never had a lunchbox when I was in school. I was always enrolled in the school lunch program, so I never got to carry one," Holcomb explains.

My own memories of lunchboxes are not as fond. When I was young, I had a new pink plastic Barbie lunchbox. I brought it to school, then forgot it, leaving it in the hall locker for days, until it began to stink. When the teacher asked whose it was, I was too embar- rassed to claim it. The teacher called the janitor, who threw out the offending item.

But Holcomb never fully forgot the lunchbox he never had. A few years ago, he found himself at an antiques mall looking at knick-knacks and old furniture when a lunchbox caught his eye. It featured the image of Lee Majors, the "Six-Million Dollar Man."

"I remembered acting out scenes from the latest episode at school. I had to have it. I had no idea what they were worth, but it was a chunk of my childhood I wanted to have. I have been searching out lunchboxes ever since."

Since lunchboxes are bulkier and more difficult to store than, say, stamps, Holcomb has taken to "rotating" his collection regularly.

"You have to understand," he said, "my wife hates my collection. It's a constant source of conflict. She cringes and rolls her eyes every time I bring in a stray lunchbox."

So, how does one rotate a lunchbox collection?

"I keep 15 or 20 of them out on a book case. The rest I keep in storage," he explains. "It also gives my wife time to forget what boxes I actually have. Then when I get a new one I can say, no, that's not new, I've had it forever. Remember?"

Holcomb is not alone in his love of the decorated metal boxes. People around the country are buying the pieces of nostalgia at flea markets and collectors' shows and visiting the "Land of the Lunchboxes" in record numbers.

"I have a Kiss lunchbox signed by two of the original band members. They're on a reunion tour, and the value of their lunchbox is skyrocketing," Holcomb says with a grin. "I should receive my latest gem in the next couple of days -- a metal Bullwinkle lunchbox and thermos with a book value of $1,200."

A lunchbox for $1,200?

"Not all of the boxes are worth $1,200," Holcomb explains. "I can only afford to spend $50 or $60 a month on lunchboxes. You can get many boxes for as little as $15 to $25."

And what about my abandoned Barbie box? Did I mistakenly leave a fortune behind in the third-grade trash can?

Holcomb turned to a price book and thought for a moment. "I would say it would be worth about $30 to $60. I don't know if it would have been worth the embarrassment or not."

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