The priest at my grandmother's funeral kept going on and on about tomato sandwiches. For two weeks now, I've been thinking it must be a metaphor that I haven't figured out. The key, she said, as my grandmother knew, was to put the salt and pepper on the mayo, not on the tomato. If you put season the tomato, it all just slides right off. Now I think there was no metaphor. She meant exactly what she said: "A good tomato sandwich is a blessing indeed."
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