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  • Writer's pictureMarty Jalove

Expired Mayo

A couple of months back I had a taste for a sandwich. Not just any sandwich. I wanted a BLT just like my mom used to make.

She made the most incredible sandwiches. They started with two slices of white bread, lightly toasted, and swiped with real mayonnaise. She fried up some bacon; not too chewy and not too crispy. She used big leaves of iceberg lettuce that were chilled and still a little damp from being rinsed under the faucet. Then added a thick slice of these enormous tomatoes, with a hint of salt and a load of flavor. She cut those sandwiches into triangles, and they looked as wonderful as they tasted.

So, I went to the refrigerator, saw the bacon and the mayo next to some cold pizza. The thought of frying the bacon, making a big mess, and having to clean it all up afterwards didn’t seem worth to me. So, I ate the cold pizza instead.

Day after day, I found other excuses for not making the sandwich. I picked up some fast food, ate more leftovers, or had stale doughnuts. Quick and easy seemed to suffice. But it was far from fulfilling.

Then, last Saturday, I told the whole family that we were having BLTs for lunch. I started frying up the bacon, filling the house with that heavenly scent. I dug through a salad bag for the largest pieces of wilted lettuce. The tomatoes were soft and the only bread we had was this stale designer loaf with nuts and seeds in it. As I assembled the sandwiches, I reached for the mayonnaise. It was expired. It had gone bad. I was too late. I let the chance of getting what I really desired disappear. The sandwiches were okay, but they did not live up to the memory.

We live in such a fast-paced world now. We crave instant gratification and spend less and less time appreciating what we have. We tell our kids to watch 30 second videos instead of reading them stories. We go out to eat and order in more often than we cook together. We converse in abbreviated texts and emojis instead of making eye contact and just talking. Always looking for our next next-day delivery, we discard what is old and out of fashion for filtered dreams that can never come true.

My mom is gone now. I don’t think that I ever told her how much I loved her sandwiches. Maybe I didn’t appreciate them then, as much as I appreciate them now.

So today, I am going to take inventory of what I have, and what I really want. I’m not going to settle for less because of laziness. I am not going to allow myself to be tricked out of getting what I deserve and desire. I’m not promised any tomorrows, so I’m going to try to do more and more in my todays.

And the next time I want a BLT, I’m going to make one and eat it before the mayo expires.

As seen in Hawthorn Woods CC Magazine. Follow “Bacon Bits with Master Happiness” on Apple Podcast, Spotify, Google Podcast, or wherever you listen to your favorite podcasts.


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