Life By The Sandwich
I remember once hearing a New York playwright talking about his craft. He said that everyone has thoughts and ideas and hears conversations all day but what made him a writer was that he simply wrote it down. That is a deep fundament about any of us who self-identifies as a writer. We (I) have to obey some inner urge that feels almost DNA-driven and as impossible to resist as the tidal pull. I can’t speak for all writers, but “having to write” is as good as any definition I can think of for “writer.” My hope is that, as one of the scriveners in the world, some of these written words will have a larger life and be useful and meaningful to someone else or even many someone elses, even if just a key to a locked memory.
And I want to share a memory that unlocked for me last night, when I was clicking on YouTube links from song to song, the way people do when they’re trying to avoid doing something. It’s right up there on a level with standing at the fridge door scanning, drinking wine, taking a nap, masturbating, and polishing firewood as things that are important to do when you’re circling around a task. Oh, man, I haven’t heard this song in years and Oh, I forgot about that live version of No Time by the Guess Who and here’s Satchmo talking about What A Wonderful World.
But YouTube is great, all the same, and Warren Zevon’s Werewolves of London was all of a sudden there in my queue and I really had not heard that in a long time and I gave it a listen and sang along, even attempting that high “aa-ooo, Werewolves of London, aa-ooo.” While doing so, I remembered what he said during his last appearance on Letterman on October 30, 2002, before his death from lung cancer.
I looked it up, to get it right, and the clip showed Letterman asking how the terminal diagnosis was affecting Zevon’s life and work. The singer famously said “You just put more value on every minute. You know I kinda always thought I did that. I really always enjoyed myself. But it’s more valuable now. You’re reminded to enjoy every sandwich and every minute.”
Enjoy every sandwich.
What a terrific motto for any one pursuing An Inquiry Into A Gratitude-Inspired Life.
Enjoy every sandwich.
I just felt grateful as hell for this simple wisdom nugget, from out of the ether, when I really needed it. I don’t remember particularly enjoying the last sandwich I had. Saying I didn’t enjoy it doesn’t mean I hated it. I just chewed through it mindlessly, without much thought and without any gratitude that I can remember. I didn’t feel entitled, but I didn’t feel much of anything else either, other than the sensation of less hunger.
Can someone feel gratitude for every sandwich? I doubt it. I can decide not to beat myself up about my lack of gratitude or I can just enjoy being a wild and sensuous and acquisitive human being and remember Shel Silverstein’s Recipe for A Hippopotamus Sandwich.
A hippo sandwich is easy to make.
All you do is simply take
One slice of bread,
One slice of cake,
Some mayonnaise
One onion ring,
One hippopotamus
One piece of string,
A dash of pepper –
That ought to do it.
And now comes the problem…
Biting into it!
That’s it, isn’t it? Biting into this life. Maybe the only way is a sandwich at a time.
