DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. 
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First up this week: Sandwich … 
"In 1762, John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich, invented the meal that changed dining forever. As the story goes, he was playing cards and did not want to leave the gaming table to eat. He asked for a serving of roast beef to be placed between two slices of bread so he could eat with his hands." (https://earlofsandwichusa.com/who-we-are/)
Two slices of bread? More? Less? Well, less would make it open-faced … still a sandwich? Or perhaps we're sandwiching something else: cake or cookies of crackers. Thin or thick layer of filling? There are so many options. Most I know have enjoyed a sandwich. One colleague always preferred soup, but he was an outlier. And in this holiday feasting season there always seem to be left-overs waiting at home for sandwiching.

Second up this week, Sundown … 
"Sometimes I think it's a sin when I feel like I'm winning, when I'm losing again" (from "Sundown" by Gordon Lightfoot, who left us in 2023). Sundown is likely an alteration of "sun going down," from Middle English "sonne goyng downe" (first known use 1620), according to Merriam-Webster. Now, "sunset" has a pretty, romantic sense to it. Sundown, on the other hand, seems darker and more foreboding. Not bad, but carrying a sense of something (the sun) going away. And not necessarily prettily. A pretty sunset could precede sundown, but it needn't. Nice to look at, a sunset. Dying of the light, with day done: it's sundown.

Third up this week, Sanctuary … 
There's a religious connotation here, but that's not what I'm after. I'm after where I go, where I want to go, as the sun goes down, as day's light's done. I want to go home. Merriam-Webster, sanctuary (third definition): "a place of resort for those who seek relief: a refuge from turmoil and strife: haven." Home beyond housing. Home being the haven that soothes my soul. That does sound a bit religious, even intended in a secular way. My sanctuary home can be a place, but it is also people, and potential, and so much love. As we stretch to the end of the year, may we all enjoy such sanctuary. Mine comes with dogs.

A book that looks great fun …   
The African Svelte: Ingenious Misspellings That Make Surprising Sense
by Daniel Menaker (Author), Roz Chast (Illustrator), Billy Collins (Foreword)
Chatting with my friend Kelly. She mentioned a book she had come across. She suggested, "I knew this was a DAH book right away!" I haven't read it, yet. I'm waiting for a used copy to arrive by mail. But it sounds lovely. Thank you, Kelly!
"A clever book … Leavened by famously jittery drawings from Roz Chast, The African Svelte cleverly educes the 'literally poetic justice' of 'eeking out a living' or disguising your terrorist intent by 'wearing a baklava.'" (The Washington Post)
"For language lovers, this book, with all its verbal tangles and wit, is sure to, in its own words, "pass mustard." (Poets & Writers)


And a bit more … 

"Dharma" by Billy Collins

The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?

Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.

If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.


And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's "Sometimes"