The sandwich was constructed on a bakery fresh roll from Jewel food store. Or it may have been from Dominick’s, but that’s hardly the point, is it? It was bakery fresh, let me tell you. On the roll, she tenderly placed mesmerizing folds of succulent ham, sliced by a deli professional extraordinaire who must have been trained in
By now, you are probably saying to yourself, “So what. Big deal. It’s just a sandwich. You are a monstrous idiot.” Well, friend, you may be correct in your assessment of me, but not the sandwich, which was made with ham that was succulent, by the way. Because - now listen closely - this was a magical ham sandwich, the likes of which this author’s tongue, nor any tongue, has not savored since.
At the time, I was new to that family, and not well known by anybody other than the number one son. Nonetheless, his mother poured her soul into that sandwich for me. After eating it, I thought to myself, “If this kind of excellence can exist in a mere ham sandwich, and people can behave in such a selfless manner as she did in the creation of this sandwich, what else could be out there!” From that day forward, I vowed to dedicate my life to the achievement of selfless excellence. It is that wonderful sandwich, and the effort put into its formation, to which I credit everything I’ve been able to achieve in this world since that day (which isn't much, to no fault of the sandwich or its creator, but it's the thought that counts).
No, really, it was one helluva ham sandwich.
Thank you, Bubba (aka Mrs. Mop).