RUTLAND — In James Carse’s 1994 book “Breakfast at the Victory,” the religion professor describes how his daily ritual of ordering a takeout coffee and bagel revealed the sacredness of his neighborhood diner.
“Mystical vision,” he wrote, “is seeing how extraordinary the ordinary is.”
In Rutland, locals feel the same about lunch at The Sandwich Shoppe.
When David Zullo Jr. opened the Merchants Row storefront in 1982, he didn’t know he’d soon move north, leaving the business to his father, David Sr., mother Martha, brother Terry and sister Tammy.
Working with family while wielding knives in a space the width of an efficiency apartment kitchenette might sound like a recipe for disaster. But the Zullos somehow went on to do it day after day, month after month, year after year.
Stop by and you’ll see an eat-and-run crowd that hungers for more than fast food. Regulars savor the order counter that’s high enough for resting your elbows. The always-available shoulder to sigh or cry on. The better-than-reality-television banter.
“Hey, how ya doin’?” brother Terry began when this reporter wrote a story about the business in 1994. “What’s happening? Beautiful day today. Another beauty, huh?”
Sister Tammy, eying a foot-slipping, tire-spinning storm outside, rolled her eyes.
“People come in just to listen to him, which is shocking!” she exclaimed. “They sometimes ask him about the weather — and they believe it!”
Dad took a cup of soup from Mom, a sandwich from his son and a salad from his daughter, snapped open a brown paper bag like a top hat and rang everything up on a cash register.
“People ask, ‘Do you visit each other on the weekends?’” Tammy said. “I say, ‘Are you crazy?’”
And so it went for four decades, even after the parents celebrated their 90th birthdays and their daughter took time off for several health challenges. Then everything changed last month when customers logged on to The Sandwich Shoppe’s Facebook page.
“With broken hearts, we share with you that Tammy has passed away,” the family wrote of her death Feb. 9 at Burlington’s University of Vermont Medical Center at age 59.
Without missing a beat, the message added: “We will open tomorrow.”
The family didn’t schedule any calling hours. Instead, everyone congregated at the counter, posted 650 “sad,” “care” and “love” Facebook emojis and squeezed into Rutland’s Christ the King Catholic Church for the funeral.
Tammy’s son, Michael Delehanty, began the service with memories of watching his mother at work.
“She knew everyone,” he said. “And I remember the smiles on people’s faces when she would say their order before they even spoke.”
The parish pastor, Msgr. Bernard Bourgeois, added that Tammy had found her calling early.
“The vocation was not to make sandwiches,” he said. “The vocation was to care.”
Before and after, 91-year-old Martha walked slowly and silently behind her daughter’s casket, the rest of the family a few steps back.
“I ran into Martha at Walmart yesterday,” one Facebook commenter went on to write. “I felt so sad for her.”
“We ran into Martha yesterday in Price Chopper,” another added. “We gave her such a big hug.”
That’s why the next post on The Sandwich Shoppe page hit even harder.
“It is with great sadness we announce that our precious Martha has gone to Heaven to join her daughter Tammy,” the family wrote of their matriarch’s death March 1.
On his Facebook page, Tammy’s son, Michael, said his grandmother had died of “broken heart syndrome.”
“When my mom passed away three weeks ago, my grandmother (Mema) said to me, ‘I don’t think I can live without your mother,’” he wrote. “I told her, ‘Yes, you can, we all have each other to help us get through this.’ But she didn’t have my mother, and she was right, she couldn’t live without her.”
This time, about 1,000 people posted emojis before many returned to Christ the King for another funeral. There, son David Jr. talked about the family’s vacations to Maine and Manhattan.
“My mom would have loved to travel more, yet what ended up happening was she got the world to her doorstep through The Sandwich Shoppe,” he said. “She embraced everyone who walked in with her compassion and kindness.”
People appreciated her right back, the parish pastor added.
“We need more Martha Zullos in this world today,” he said. “Their names will never be on buildings and they didn’t leave a will with $20 million, but they left something a lot bigger and better.”
Everyone then went home and, with the start of another workweek, back to the business of The Sandwich Shoppe. That’s the address where, just last month, I sent Martha and Tammy a Valentine’s Day card with a quote from writer Elizabeth Gilbert.
Very seldom does love
have anything for me
but the most simple,
what you can do
in the next five minutes advice.
And when I ask love
what’s going to happen,
what’s going to come of us,
what’s going to come of the world,
what’s going to come to me,
love always says,
I don’t know.
Beyond my paygrade.
But in the meantime,
I would suggest getting up
and getting a glass of water.
Or, better yet, a sandwich.