Sandwich Generation

We were driving home from my Aunt Wilma’s funeral in Virginia when Ben requested cheesesteak sandwiches for our BDW meal. As I was just opening my mouth to speak, he couldn’t take a chance on anything other than a yes, so he threw in tater tots. “Ah,” said Phil, “he’s gone for your Achilles heel.” Sure enough, the tots sealed the deal. I love them and we agreed to pair his absolute favorite sandwich with my favorite guilty pleasure side dish.

Ben always orders his cheesesteaks in the garden. When we moved to Pennsylvania, we were mystified by this term (in the garden) but it means your sandwich will be served with lettuce, tomatoes, and onions. Duh. If you are looking to live like Ben, split a sandwich roll and spread mayo on both pieces. Cook shaved steak on a griddle and top each sandwich-shaped mound of meat with pepper jack cheese slices. Allow cheese to melt while meat is still on the griddle. With a spatula, place meat and cheese on the bottom of the bun. Top with caramelized onions and red peppers. Add lettuce and close the sandwich if you can. Serve with crispy tater tots and caprese salad (the tomatoes “count” as having your cheesesteak in the garden.)

My mom was the youngest of ten siblings, and now that Aunt Wilma is gone, she only has one remaining sibling. Now in a sort of wind down phase themselves, my parents are preparing to transition to a retirement community. Though they are still fully functional (or “staying active” as Ben would say), it makes sense to make the next move on their own terms.

On last weekend’s visit, my mom had me go through a box of “old papers” she had taken on when my grandparents died in 1990, saying I should take whatever I wanted. My mom’s parents, born in the 1890s, remained Old Order Amish their entire lives. The box includes records of their 1925 farm purchase, my grandma’s travel journal from 1954 when Wilma and my mom accompanied them out west, and ordinary journals of daily life. The day my mom was born reads simply, “Tue, morn Mar 28th Clara born Henry Esther here in P.M. girls finished half of front room and ironed a while.” I am still working my way through my grandpa’s contributions to his family’s circle letter, which seem to be a mix of ordinary snippets of daily life, community news, thoughts on scripture, and even discussion of what it meant to be Amish. I’m fascinated by this treasure trove on so many levels that I hardly know where to start! 

Language – My grandfather made it through the 4th reader and my grandmother through the 6th, which I think roughly equate to 4th and 6th grades. Pennsylvania Dutch was their first language, as it was for my parents, but it is mostly a spoken language without standard written spelling. They learned the basic mechanics of speaking and writing English, the language of the world, and they learned to read high German so they could read the Bible. Though mostly written in English, sometimes my grandpa’s letters lapse into Pennsylvania Dutch. I can only observe through their written words, what must have been shifts and slides between ear, mouth, hand, brain, and heart.

History – What was daily life like for the Amish in the 1950s through 1980s? 

Faith – How do you maintain your identity as a people when you are in the world but not of the world? What struggles rippled through Amish communities and how did you address questions of faith?

Family – My grandparents’ letters and journals give me a way to understand what came before me so I can better grasp my own spot in the universe.

Those of us in the sandwich generation–making cheesesteaks with our sons, sifting through layers of family paper memories from our parents or grandparents if we are lucky–know our unearned fortune. We have it all, the whole cheesesteak in the garden.