If I could click my heels and be anywhere in the USA, my # 1 destination would be Watchic Lake in Maine.

My grandfather and his friends dammed a stream at Watchic’s western end to create a lake by building a dam in the 1920s. He built a log cabin for his family and I’ve been going there since the 1950s.

Several years ago I called my dear brother-in-law David, who chided me saying, “It’s been too long since you’ve been up here.”

“You’ve got that right.” I was sitting on my porch in Pattaya halfway around the world.

“We have Italian sandwiches on the table.”

David was a kind man with a cruel heart, he knew full well how much I love the long soft-bread sandwiches filled with ham, cheese, olives, pickles, tomatoes, dusted with salt and pepper, then drizzled with olive oil.

My mouth is watering just thinking about one in my hand and I asked, “Could you Fed-Ex me two, but hold the onion and peppers?”

“Not a chance. You want one, you have to fly back to Maine and get one.”

I restrained a curse and demanded to speak with my sister.

“You can talk to her all you want, but the only way you’re getting an Italian from us is to come up to Watchic and wash one down with one of my Vodka and OJs.”

My heels clicked like Dorothy in THE WIZARD OF OZ.

I remained on Manhattan, but thankfully wasn’t transported to Kansas, because Kansas like New York doesn’t have any Italians, at least not like the Italians invented in 1899 by an Italian baker in Southern Maine

According to a 1996 article in Yankee Magazine Giovanni Amato invented the portable and inexpensive lunch for road construction workers in 1903 and since then the sandwiches are beloved by anyone living north of the Saco River and not all of them are the same.

Corsetti’s Variety on Brighton Avenue supposedly received an order from Colorado who wanted two dozen regular Italians – no oil.

I had once asked my Uncle Russ to airmail me Italians to Thailand.

“They will be frozen most the trip, since they will be stored with cargo. The temperature outside the 747 has to be below zero.”

“Actually the air at 30,000 feet ranges from -40F to -70F.”

“So you’ll send them?”

Like David he said no, but added, “Everyone says Amato’s is best, but my brother Doug always said, “Amato. Too many Tomatoes.”

My fav comes from the variety store at the south end of Sebago Lake.

This past summer I had two from George’s in Biddeford. They were damn good.

Guess I’ll have to get beyond the Saco River soon.

It’s been way too long and nothing would make me feel younger.