History of the Submarine Sandwich by Linda Stradley

 History of the Submarine Sandwich by Linda Stradley

Submarine Sandwich - It is a king-sized sandwich on an Italian loaf of bread approximately 12 inches long and 3 inches wide, filled with boiled ham, hard salami, cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and sometimes flavored with garlic and oregano. It is thought that the original concept of these sandwiches came from the Italians who immigrated to New York in the late 1800s and brought with them their favorite Italian Sandwich recipes.

1910 - The family of Dominic Conti (1874-1954) claims he was the first to use the name, submarine sandwich. Angela Zuccaro, granddaughter of Dominic, related the following information:

My grandfather came to this country circa 1895 from Montella, Italy. Around 1910, he started his grocery store, called Dominic Conti’s Grocery Store, on Mill Street in Paterson New Jersey, where he was selling the traditional Italian sandwiches. His sandwiches were made from a recipe he brought with him from Italy which consisted of a long crust roll, filled with cold cuts, topped with lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, onions, oil, vinegar, Italian spices, salt, and pepper. The sandwich started with a layer of cheese and ended with a layer of cheese (this was so the bread wouldn’t get soggy).

My mother often told me about how my grandfather came to name his sandwich the Submarine. She remembered the incident very well, as she was 16 years old at the time. She related that when Grandfather went to see the Holland I in 1927, the raised submarine hull that was put on display in Westside Park, he said, “It looks like the sandwich I sell at my store.” From that day on, he called his sandwich the “submarine.” People came from miles around to buy one of my grandfather’s subs.

No Experience Needed By Maria Bartiromo

No Experience Needed By Maria Bartiromo

Trial and Error
Fred DeLuca was just looking for a way to pay his college tuition. He ended up founding Subway, the multimillion-dollar restaurant chain.

It was the summer of 1965, and DeLuca, then 17 and right out of high school, had tagged along with his parents to visit Peter Buck, a family friend. At some point, Buck asked DeLuca about his plans for the future. “I’m going to college, but I need a way to pay for it,” DeLuca recalls saying. “Buck said, ‘You should open a submarine sandwich shop.’”

When Buck was growing up in Maine, he frequented Amato’s for its Italian subs. And DeLuca often ate at Mike’s Sandwiches in Schenectady, New York, before he moved to Connecticut. Says DeLuca, “I didn’t know anything about subs, but Pete had noticed that people in the sandwich business did pretty well.”

Sitting in Buck’s backyard on that July afternoon, they agreed to be partners. They designed the menu and pricing, says DeLuca, “even though we didn’t know what the food would cost.” And they set a goal: to open 32 stores in ten years. After doing some research (eating at Amato’s), Buck wrote a check for $1,000. DeLuca rented a storefront in Bridgeport, Connecticut, and when they couldn’t cover their start-up costs, Buck kicked in another $1,000.

DeLuca’s mom scouted out food suppliers, and his father looked for equipment. When they needed a sign, DeLuca’s dad suggested they try a guy he worked with. “So we drive over to Dick’s apartment and tell him the story. He jumps in the car, comes to the store, designs a logo and paints the sign.” The first Subway was ready for business.

“As far as product quality and operational methods, it was what you would imagine a 17-year-old doing,” DeLuca says. “Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. After six months, we were doing poorly, but we didn’t know how badly, because we didn’t have any financial controls.”

DeLuca was manning the store and commuting to the University of Bridgeport. Buck was working at his day job as a nuclear physicist in New York. They’d meet Monday evenings and brainstorm options for keeping the business afloat. “We convinced ourselves to open a second store. It wasn’t that costly, and we figured we could tell the public, ‘We’re so successful, we’re opening a second store.’ Still, it was a lot of learning by trial and error,” DeLuca says.

Intimate Ties
When DeLuca’s car broke down, he found a ride with a kid who was an enthusiastic Subway fan. “This kid points to my store and says, ‘They have great sandwiches, and you can get all the soda you want free. You go in with a few friends and order sandwiches, and when the kid behind the counter turns around to make them, you go into the cooler and sneak the soda out.’ ”

DeLuca was flabbergasted. He hadn’t realized that he needed to keep track of his sales and his inventory. But the partners’ seat-of-the-pants, learn-as-you-go approach turned out to be one of their strengths.

For example, every Friday, DeLuca and his mom would drive around and hand-deliver the checks to pay their suppliers. “It probably took us two and a half hours and it wasn’t necessary, but as a result, the suppliers got to know us very well. They allowed us more credit than we deserved, and the personal relationships that resulted really helped out,” DeLuca says.

And having a goal was a huge plus. “Even though it felt like we were a gang that couldn’t shoot straight, we knew what direction we were going. Being persistent was important,” DeLuca emphasizes. “There are so many obstacles that can get you down. You just have to keep working toward your objective.”

By 1982, with the team operating 200 stores, DeLuca was thinking big. “I set a goal of having 5,000 stores by 1994. The team thought I was crazy.”

They blew past DeLuca’s goal, operating 8,000 stores by 1994. In 2007, Subway Restaurants numbered 20,446 stores in the United States and 6,113 stores overseas.

In many ways, Subway continues to be a network of family and close friends. “I am still partners with Pete,” DeLuca reports. “My sister works here. My mom is retired from the board. I have uncles, aunts and a cousin in the business. Our old-time franchisees are bringing their sons and daughters into the business.” Even Dick, who designed the first logo, still works with Subway.

Those intimate ties provided a safety net for the fledgling company. Later, they helped it grow and prosper. For DeLuca, they are the ultimate secret to his success. As he says, “It’s just a bigger family now.”

School Photographer by Kristine O’Connell George

 School Photographer by Kristine O’Connell George

When I am behind my camera lens
I can make people stand closer,
wrap their arms around each other,
even get them to smile.
When I am behind my camera lens
I see things others don’t.
I can record a single moment
That distorts or tells the truth.
When I am behind my camera lens
I can see everything
Except my own self, hiding
behind my camera.

All the Way to the Duck Pond by Sandra Beswetherick

 All the Way to the Duck Pond by Sandra Beswetherick

“Here’s an easy out,” Wade says from behind his catcher’s mask.

“Don’t listen to him,” I tell Nicole as she goes up to bat.

 It’s spring, and for the past three weeks that’s meant baseball in gym class. Teams. With me and my best friend, Nicole, almost always being chosen last.

“Everyone move in!” calls Amanda, signaling to the fielders from the pitcher’s mound.

“You’ll be sorry!” I shout.

“Yeah, right,” Wade says as he squats down behind home plate.

 Brandon, the best baseball player in the whole school, collapses on third base and yawns. “Hurry up, shrimp. Don’t take all day.”

Shrimp. That’s what practically everyone at school calls Nicole and me. The shrimps. It isn’t our fault we’re the smallest. And just because we’re small doesn’t mean we aren’t good.

“Ignore him, Nicole,” I say from our bench behind home plate. “What he says doesn’t matter.”

Nicole glances back at me.

At least I wish it didn’t matter. It’ll get you down if you let it.

“You can hit that ball!” I say. “I’ve seen you!”

“Yeah? Where?” asks Laura, sitting beside me on the bench.

“In the city park next to her house,” I say right back. “Last Saturday.”

Laura doesn’t believe me. No one does. No one believes that Nicole can clobber that ball. And it’s making Nicole not believe it, too. Her body’s all stiff. She’s standing all wrong. She’s choking up too far on the bat.

Amanda pitches. The ball goes way up, then drops down. Why can’t she pitch to Nicole the same way she pitches to everyone else?

Nicole swings hard, misses, and spins like a top.

Ron, the first baseman, laughs. Brandon, lying on his back, folds his hands under his head, using third base as a pillow. Even Ms. Perce makes a face that says ouch.

“Nicole, you can do it!” I say. “Just pretend you’re in the park, like last Saturday!”

Last Saturday—when we didn’t play on teams. When we just took turns with the neighborhood kids. And when no one called us shrimps or dared to move in from the outfield when we were at bat.

Nicole looks at me again. This time she smiles, I think, even though the smile is crooked. But she fixes her grip on the bat.

Amanda pitches really slowly again. It’s as if the ball will never reach home plate. But Nicole leans forward and swings.

Thunk!

She hits it! For the first time ever at school, she actually hits it! The ball pops up, then bounces to the ground behind her. Foul ball.

“See, Nicole?” I shout. “You can hit that ball!”

“Big deal,” Laura says. “It didn’t go anywhere.”

“Hit it again!” I yell, ignoring Laura. “Harder!”

Nicole’s smile isn’t so crooked anymore. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. She spreads her feet wider apart and bends her knees a little. Then she takes a few practice swings.

Nicole’s getting ready to show everyone. I just know it. She’s going to blast that ball like she did last Saturday when she whammed it into the duck pond.

“Action, at last!” It’s Brandon on third. He’s standing up, getting ready. “Let’s see you really slam it.” This time he isn’t teasing.

Nicole glances in his direction. Her smile grows wider. She takes one more practice swing.

Amanda throws the ball. It’s another slow one.

“Come on, Nicole!” My hands are clenched together in a knot. “Hit it all the way to the duck pond!” I don’t care if nobody but Nicole understands what I mean.

Nicole steps forward, bringing the bat back over her shoulder. I squeeze my hands even tighter and almost close my eyes.

 Craaack!

The ball sails high over Amanda’s head. Amanda stands there with her mouth hanging open, watching it go. And the fielders—for a second, it’s as if their feet grew roots into the ground.

“Run, Nicole!” I holler.

She crosses first base, then keeps going to second and third. Dust flies up behind her.

“Home, Nicole!” I’m jumping up and down, going wild. I’m the only one cheering because everyone else is too surprised. Even Ms. Perce looks amazed as Nicole goes tearing past her.

“Yeesss!” I scream.

It’s a home run! A for-real home run! I knew she could do it. Nicole knew it, too. She just needed someone to help her believe.

“Hey, shrim—I mean, Nicole,” Brandon calls. “All right!”

The way Nicole crosses home plate—it’s as if she made home runs every day of the week. Then she picks up the bat and hands it to me. “Your turn,” she says, smiling.

“OK!” yells Amanda to the fielders. “Everyone spread out!”

I step up to home plate, bat in my hands, ready for whatever pitches come my way.

A Candlelit Holiday by Elaine Masters

 A Candlelit Holiday by Elaine Masters

On one full-moon night every fall, the rivers and lakes of Thailand are dotted with twinkling candles. The Thais are celebrating "Loi Krathong," or "Floating Leaf Cup Day."

No one knows for sure how this lovely custom got started. Some say it was started 700 years ago by a wife of a kind who wanted to surprise and please her husband. Others say it started even longer ago as a special religious ceremony. But however it began, it is delightful.

Families always used to make their floats, or little boats, from banana leaves torn into strips and woven into the shape of a bowl. Then they beautifully decorated them with flowers. Now, while many families still make their own floats, others simply buy them. Modern floats may be made of banana leaves or plastic. All of them still hold a lighted candle, a flower, a stick or two of sweet-smelling incense, and a coin.

On the holiday evening, families gather at parks near lakes, rivers, or canals for outdoor dinners. Adults sit on mats and visit with their neighbors while children play tag or hide-in-seek. In some cities, blazing fireworks and dancers in shining silk costumes entertain the crowd.

Many men and women sell things. People sell floats to those who have not made them at home. Other people sell balloons in various shapes and colors or clever toys made of bamboo. Food sellers offer noodle soup, dried fish, candy, little cakes, roasted chicken, and bamboo tubes filled with sticky rice cooked in coconut milk. They pour soft drinks into small plastic bags, whirl a rubber band around the top, and stick in a short straw.

Then, when the full moon rises, families light the candles and set their little boats afloat. The waterway soon twinkles like a fairyland with candles bobbing in their floats and fireworks reflecting in the water.

Walking the dog

Walking the dog

"We'll me you back at the car in half an hour. Now remember, don't let that dog off the leash!" said Mom, as she locked the car door.

"We'll be careful!" replied Alex. His sister Nina nodded. The children ran down the path towards Bramble Pond with their spaniel Jeeves at their heels.

Alex and Nina had lived in the New Forest all their lives. They knew every path and track around their village; they knew where to gather primroses in spring and blackberries in autumn; they knew where the wild forest ponies and red deer lived; they knew the best places for exploring or flying a kite. However, this was the first time they had been allowed out alone with Jeeves, their new dog. Trotting and leaping along the path, ears flapping like fans, Jeeves was soon tripping the children up with his leash.

"Honestly!" grumbled Alex, as he untangled himself for the fourth time. "Once more, and I'm letting him off the Leash!"

"You can't do that, Alex!" said Nina bossily. "Mom said we're not allowed." Alex frowned in annoyance. Who was Nina to be bossing him around? He was the eldest! Jeeves chose this moment to curl his leash around Alex's ankle...

"That does it!" yelled Alex, (Now sprawled face down in a puddle). He unclipped the leash. Jeeves, released, shot forward like an arrow, straight into Bramble Pond. Horrified, Alex and Nina pelted after him.

Ten minutes later, Jeeves was still playing happily in the muddy pond. On the slippery edge, the children called and coaxed. It was no use - Jeeves wouldn't budge. "Right, that's it!" roared Alex, purple in the face. "I'm going in!"

"No!" wailed Nina, but Alex was already knee-deep. As Alex splashed his way towards him. Jeeves darted out. He shook himself. cleverly avoided Nina's clutching hands by rolling in a cowpat, then set off again. Paralyzed with fear, the children watched as he wriggled under some barbed wire into a field of sheep.

"We must get him out!" cried Nina anxiously. "He'll get into so much trouble!" But they were excluded by the barbed wire. To make things worse, now the sheep were starting to fuss.

Alex froze. An angry figure brandishing a stick had appeared from the barn. In no time at all, Jeeves was a prisoner. "This your dog?" growled the farmer. "If I ever catch him worrying my sheep again, I'll have the law on you." Gabbling apologies, Alex took Jeeves and Nina clipped on the Leash. As fast as Olympic medalists, they fled along the path until the farmer was out of sight.

"Phew! That was close!" said Alex, relieved. "Well, at least everything's ok now." They set off, grinning happily.

Meanwhile, back at the car, Mom and Dad were waiting. A wet, muddy, filthy and smelly procession drew nearer and nearer. Alex had spoken too soon. Their telling-off broke all previous records.

"I can't believe Mom wouldn't let any of us back in the car," wailed Nina. "I'm really tired!"

"Who cares about the walk? I can't believe we have to give Jeeves a bath and shampoo! I'll never let him off the leash again!"

The Three Bears Sung to "Down By the Bay"

The Three Bears
Sung to "Down By the Bay"

We are three bears, out in the woods.

We go for walks, just like we should.

And then one day, while we were gone,

Somebody in a dress came and made a mess!

We are three bears.

She ate our food, she sat in chairs.

She even broke the baby bear's!

And then upstairs, guess what we saw,

We saw her in a bed!

Get out is what we said!

We are three bears.

Google Search, Google, www.google.com/search?q=The+Three+Bears+Sung+to+%22Down+By+the+Bay%22.