a word on crust

as i sat down to table today to partake of the delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich that i'd made, i realized with a start that i was eating that sandwich with the crusts fully on.

you, my dear friend and reader, may not see the significance of such an observation, but to me the import of the event was groundbreaking.

for years i resisted eating sandwiches with the crust on them, to the point that to serve me such a sandwich was a wasted effort in sandwich-making. within the past several years, i have expanded my repertoire of tastes to allow that crusts may have redeemable qualities, and slowly but surely, i have begun to like eating the sandwich in its entirety: crusty, such as in a state of nature.

this acceptance of crusts is not to go unanalyzed. if we consider it for a moment, the crusts on a sandwich are like the parts of life that we initially find distasteful until we develop an appreciation for them. accepting crust into my life is, consequently, evidence of my growth as a human being and as a contributing member of society.

there are, i find, many benefits to crust as well. for one thing, it limits condiments on the sandwich from soaking through and getting onto the plate. it also provides a good grasping point for the fingers so that they minimally smoosh the bread apon lifting it to eat. crust, really, defines the limits of the sandwich in a powerful and irrevocable manner.

crust is the final frontier.