Ahhh Fudge!

Come "buy" and see the fudge at Samantha's Lil bit of Heaven, 287 East Northport, NY

We've all heard about the loaves and fishes, but who would have thought a miracle is possible through the delicious taste of fudge? And we're not talking your average chocolate or vanilla, but exotic, phenomenal flavors that make you wake up at night reliving their sweetness. Flavors like Raspberry Truffle, Rocky Road, Pistachio, Mint Chocolate Chip, Creamsicle, New York Cheesecake and Butterfinger fudge, just to name a few.

 And despite their delectable charms, these little cups of heaven, complete with their own plastic spoon for instant fudge emergencies, can be classified as anything but "sinful". This fudge is on a mission, you might even say, a mission from God.


Across from the Wendy's in East Northport, New York, sandwiched between the animal hospital and the butcher is a little bit of Heaven on earth. Honest. I know, it's not where you pictured it to be, but heaven rarely is.

Welcome to Samantha's Lil Bit of Heaven, a unique ministry, completely run by volunteers, that is open to all denominations. Samantha's is known worldwide for their weekend coffeehouse ministry where they feature life inspirational music and clean comedy nights that families, yes families, can come together and enjoy. They also offer weekly faith-filled workshops, support groups, bible studies and more!

For the musically inclined, there's even an open mic night that anyone from age 6 and up (you could be younger but it's hard to reach the mic) can perform music, poetry or comedy in an attempt to gain a spot in one of Heaven's weekend slots. 

 At a time when the country is held captive by reality shows starring teenagers behaving badly and glitzy show-biz extravaganzas where audience votes are always questioned for integrity, it's refreshing that a little bit of Heaven on earth does exist.

Samantha Tetro welcomes guests at Heaven

Started by a Jewish gal, Samantha Tetro (yes, a Jewish gal) this innovative ministry was created to provide a safe haven away from all the misery and pain of the day-to-day world. Tetro's vision of the ministry was actually conceived  after watching a news report of a young Long Island girl who had been kidnapped.  


Step into Heaven and regardless of your faith, you feel welcomed.  People are smiling for goodness sake! They actually GIVE you chocolate kisses if you're a newbie! And the entertainment is always top notch.

Sure, it's faith filled and that does make some folks shift in their seats and squirm. There's actual mention of (dare we say), God, and faith, and praying, but not in over abundance and I assure you, no one makes anyone dunk themselves in a river and declare themselves sin-free (although there are a few folks that do kick their shoes off and tap to the music).

What happens at Heaven is a miracle in itself: you walk in alone most often, and you walk out with friends. There's a current that runs through the people there that basically says,  "I'm part of something really exciting. If you want to ask me, just let me know. If you don't, that's cool too." And it really is. 

There's no pressure at Heaven. If you come in with questions, you leave with answers. If you come in with a burden, you feel it lifted, even if it's just for the night. You won't get that happening at your local bowling alley, movie theater or video arcade. And if you just want to enjoy great music and have fun with your family or take your kids to a comedy night where you won't blush, Heaven's the place.

Delicious selections of fudge seem endless!

So what's fudge

got to do with it?

When this unique place began nearly 17 years ago, it was housed in a teenie tiny location that could barely seat 25 people but somehow managed to squeeze in more than 60 every night.

Today, gifted and known musicians, speakers and songwriters have come from around the world to play or perform at Heaven. To date, over 100,000 people have come through their doors from countries worldwide. Marriages have been formed here (38 love matches with more to come no doubt), although it's not a singles club. Bands have been created and gone on to record successful CDs.

Through the years, Samantha's grew from its first humble building to a larger location at 287 Larkfield Road in Northport.  And now, with faith, there's a dream that the ministry will be getting ready to move again with the help of a Fudge-raiser. Yes, a Fudge-raiser.

The ministry is looking to increase its ability to reach out to the local community and meet its growing needs. With growing unemployment in the area, Long Island is in need of places like Heaven to lift not only spirits, but to offer hope. In order to meet the growing needs of the community, Heaven needs a bigger building.

The ministry offers desserts during their weekend entertainment and what better way to create a building fund than through through the sale of something sweet and delicious like fudge?

Recently, Heaven has been offered a property that has truly been an answer to their prayers for the community: (a prayer that was sent over 16 years ago).  As we all know, real estate is anything but cheap, but Heaven answers to a "higher authority" and believes their goal is to purchase this  property and build their dream completely debt-free, (not an easy task in today's times). So in true faith, they are selling fudge to make it happen.

Now, this is not just any fudge: this is gourmet, knock your-socks-off-fight-your-family-hide-in-a-closet-just-to-be-alone-with-it kind of fudge. It is quite frankly, Heaven's Faith-Filled Fudge-To-Go, and the donation for one of these sweet treats is just $4.00.  The goal is to sell 1 million cups of fudge so the ministry can purchase the building completely debt-free. An insane goal? Perhaps. But apparently Samantha's has already sold 2500 cups just this summer alone. Which means there are 2500 happy fudge fanatics out there and you could be one of them!

Interested in lending a hand? With your help Samantha's can sell a lot more fudge and get that building a lot faster. If you don't like fudge, send this blog on to someone you know that does. Or better yet, jot an email to your friends and family and tell them about Samantha's building fund and the fudge-raiser. It's the best $4.00 they could ever spend. And yes, if they ask, Heaven is a charity, so this may be the only time they can buy fudge, eat it and have it go to a good cause. 

These days, miracles seem to be beyond our reach. But every so often, God puts the miracle making in our path. And this is a pretty sweet way to make a very special miracle come true for some pretty terrific people and a community in need.


Call Samantha's (631) 262-1212 or visit the website at www.samanthaslilbitofheaven.org and send an email asking Samantha how you can buy some fudge and help the ministry get to their goal.  All proceeds go to the building fund.

Most of us will never be able to do the really big stuff like walking across water or multiply loaves and fishes, but  paying $4 for a delicious cup of fudge to help build and grow a place to be inspired on Long Island and take family and friends on weekends?  Awww fudge, now that's something we can all do!

Sing along with Mitch

In his head, my father's voice rang out like Pavarotti: in truth, even the dog left the room when he sang. Despite Dad's less than golden tones, there were moments he could melt into a symphony of music, thanks to a little man with a small white stick and a huge chorus known as "the gang."


Mitch Miller played on our living room hi-fi throughout most of my childhood. Taking up most of the wall, the hi-fi was made of mahogany and the speakers were built as part of the unit. To play, you lifted the lid, that of course would snap closed at will, causing you to nearly lose a hand if you weren't deft at switching albums quickly.

The inside of the hi-fi was simple. An on/off button, a volume and a needle to play the records which, unfortunately, often needed a penny to balance on top of or you got this alien type of warble. Occasionally the penny would fall off the needle, sending it careening across the vinyl with an ear splitting SCREEEETCH that I have to say, riveled Dad's vocal charms.

The covers and inside covers of the Mitch Miller albums were all about having fun. You wanted to be wherever "the gang" was. The women were laughing, the kids were laughing, and Mitch was in the midst of it all, eyes twinkling and his arm slung around someone's shoulder. "Come on," Mitch seemed to say. "Leave those dishes and sing along with us."  And we were only too happy to.


My father was a New York City cop. Not ever easy job, and certainly not in the difficult times of the 1960s and 70s. My Dad seemed to me, to always be a man trapped in his own skin. During the day, he saw tremendous violence, hopelessness, and betrayl: in the evening he had to leave that somehow and come home, facing being a suburban father and husband. The transition was helped by the hi-fi. Put on those Mitch Miller albums and his face would visibly relax. Heading into the kitchen you could hear him singing songs that no one ever hears anymore. Tunes like, The Yellow Rose of Texas. By the Light of the Silvery Moon, Down By the Old Mill Stream, That Old Gang of Mine, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon that now seem like old friends whenever I hear them.
If it was summer,  the front and back doors would be wide open, and the music would spill out onto the front lawn. As evening fell, neighbors would wander by, sitting on our front step (known as the stoop). As kids we chased up and down the block, looking for fireflies and playing games like Freeze Tag and Murderer Come Out (okay, we were strange kids). But always, in the background, we would hear Mitch Miller and his gang singing, and from time to time, neighbors' voices would chime in. It was a good time. A safer time. You could ride your bike fearlessly in the dark and familiar voices would softly drift past your face as you rode by in the night air.


In the winter, the front door would still be open, the inside glass frosting from the heat of the house. We would wait for my father, his shifts lasting almost to the last moment of Christmas Eve. Still, we would wait.

And my father, after dealing with city's most desperate, most violent, and most depressed would ride home to Long Island, flip on the hi-fi, turn and fill the house with the sound of the gang, singing Jingle Bells, Silent Night, O Come All Ye Faithful. Now, the holidays could come.

Mitch Miller, died at 99, this past Saturday, July 31st. According to his family, he had a "full, happy and long life." I think it was more than that. The little man with his white baton, brought more than sing along songs to the world. He brought a peace to people. He gave families a language to speak when they couldn't understand the world around them. He built a bridge. It may not have been everything we needed, but it was enough.

And for Dad, maybe singing, even off key, helped him wade through the frustration, rage and anger of the what he witnessed day in and day out. Each song helping him transition from cop to father and back again giving him the ability to deal through the pain of another day, and to  eventually, even heal.

Bravo, Mr. Miller.

Bravo.