He Was A Magnificent Tomato

Well, you can only be sentimental for so long till you find yourself with a rotting tomato.

After a day or two of admiration I sliced up that first-off-the-vine and composed what I thought was a sandwich symphony: 97% fat-free [or rather, 3% fat] sliced ham with Dijon mustard, romaine lettuce and the truly terrific tomato.

At his widest, Mr. Tomato was bigger than the bun. He smelled of sunshine and labor and all the earth's great goodness. Check it out.

This gustatory creation was presented to Son for delectation and delight.

He took one bite.

Suddenly he got that stricken look as if he had just remembered an important meeting he was supposed to be attending in another state.

I said, "What's the matter now?"

With watering eyes, the dear child laid bare for me the source of his distress. "Mom," he said, "it tastes like a tomato."