The Bologna Incident and Other Tales from the Squeezed Middle: A Sandwich Generation Survival Story

By Holly B. Gutwillinger

Have you ever felt like the filling in a sandwich, pressed between slices of responsibility? I have, repeatedly over the past ten years, and when patterns repeat, I start to look for meaning; these are my discoveries.

Decades ago, my mom made me a bologna sandwich on white bread with lots of ketchup and sent me off to walk to school. Still with me? Sometimes I’d trade it for a classmate's sandwich, or just hide it under my clunky wooden dresser when I returned home. The sandwich was simple, and so was my life back then.

Sorry if I’ve tarnished bologna or ketchup, but I’ve held onto that memory for a long time.

Nowadays, I’m more of a shaved turkey between all-grain bread infused with protein. You know the deli meat rimmed in spices that gives the sandwich that extra kick? Oh, and my condiment of choice is sweet-and-spicy mustard.

My sandwich generation status remains. Even at night, I am still the middle wedged between our seventy-five-pound dog and my husband. There’s no escaping my role as the center.

With all these sandwich metaphors, you may be hungry, but don’t head to the kitchen just yet. Give me a few more moments to explain how the sandwich metaphor fits.

I see myself as the filling, that messy middle that binds it all together and as a mother, daughter, wife, sister, I support the needs of my children and my parents. My boys, though now adults, still look to me for guidance and support as they navigate their own transitions. Meanwhile, my mother requires more care, appointments, daily help, and difficult choices about her future.

And then there’s me, in the messy middle, trying to be enough for everyone while balancing self-care and stability.

Of course, the sandwich metaphor doesn’t stop there. It extends to multiple aspects of my life.

I suspect the term analog has only just surfaced, and it will become the buzzword for the next couple of years. I don’t mean to be cynical or sarcastic (well, maybe a little), but I lived the analog life thirty years ago, so how is it now becoming cool again? Back then, my passion for knitting only landed me in the granny categories, and nowadays, knitting podcasts have gone viral.

As a woman in her second act, I’ve been on the cusp of mainstream mediums more times than I care to mention. I’ve grasped enough about software and digital media to get by, but never enough to be an expert.

Looking back at old eight-millimetre tapes of my toddlers as their three-year-old fingers mastered the mouse on the large beige box that took up a large desk, while I struggled to figure out how to format a document in WordPerfect.

As years went on, social media became mainstream, and I’d find myself in deep conversation with my father as he asked endless questions such as “what’s the difference between sending a note on your phone over sending it over this thing they call Facebook.” I admired his curiosity and the banter we had over technology, but he never, in his eighty years, touched a computer or a cell phone. I appreciated that too.

I’ve watched generations after mine, my children and younger, accumulate possessions more quickly in a world driven by digital convenience, while my mother continues routines like saving milk bags that reflect earlier-era values. My biggest struggle is with how each generation exchanges information. Online job hunting can feel convoluted, and being let go via email feels dehumanizing, starkly contrasting with the analog communication my mother values and the digital-first world shaping my children’s lives.

There’s hope on the horizon! The latest trends have Generation Alpha excited about phone dates over serial texting and bonding over hobbies that keep hands busy and minds alive. Where human connection will supersede misinterpreted texts and messages, and letter writing to a pen pal will expand creativity everywhere.

Being squeezed between two generations is both beautiful and difficult. Like mustard binding a sandwich, I bridge past and future. The gap between my children’s and parents’ generations often feels like thick slices pressing in, while I try to keep all the layers intact.

All these layers considered, it’s like having the sandwich cut in half on the diagonal and not knowing who gets which half. Everyone wants their fair share because, like the classic sandwich, I’ve been trustworthy and reliable to fill a void.

I’m excited for the new and improved analog phase. It’s moved me to pull out my knitting needles from retirement, and heck, I may just start a knitting podcast.

Connect With Holly

www.hollybrisson.substack.com