The manwich
When I was growing up my mother made my brothers and me uncut “manwiches” for lunch, not simple sandwiches. Sandwiches that were cut into halves or quarters were dainty and girly. But uncut sandwiches were big and manly, fitting food for young men to devour like wild scavengers. That's what she told us, anyway. A manwich would put hair on our chests. (Either that, or vegetables.) We ran home from school every noon hour to have lunch while watching Flintstones cartoons on TV from Chanel 7 in Buffalo, NY. Mom was waiting in the kitchen when we ran in the back door and then immediately down into the basement rec room while shouting out orders to her like a waitress in a diner. “Two manwiches!” “One sandwich, one manwich!” At the first commercial break we ran upstairs to get our food. We ran everywhere in those days. If we were going somewhere, we were running!