Well, I was gonna write about something else this morning, but when I saw Jim's newest cartoon, I felt the need to defend Spam as I knew it for my first 50 years. Like the word "gay," it has taken on a new perspective in my later life. I do, however, believe it's still quite possible to be happy and gay.
On the Spam account, I don't know if everyone's so happy, but back in the good ol' days when Mother would cook up a dinner of Spam and potatoes, we did not look for any anti-spam agents to rid our lives of the stuff. We liked it and ate every bite.
In the summer of 1965, when I worked at Camp Neewahlu, a Campfire Girls facility on Lake Coeur d'Alene, as a dishwasher, one of the weekly delights whipped up in big baking pans by our cook Ginger, was Spam and raisins. I can recall always asking for second helpings. All the little campers skarfed it down and never complained.
As an adult, I've bought cans of Spam at least once a year. It's one of those age-old treats like liverwurst or tomato juice. Ya wouldn't eat the stuff on a daily basis but every once in a while, ya just have a hankering to renew a taste of old times. I love to fry up my Spam. Never do anything fancy with it except maybe throw on a coating of Maple syrup. Yum. Yum.
Now speaking of words and their differing connotations, I recall another name I thought nothing of while washing those dishes at Camp Neewahlu. We all received nicknames that fit our respective duties. Ginger was the cook, while Salt and Pepper were her assistants.
Of course, it stood to reason that the dishwashers would've been named "Spic" and "Span." Well, I was Spic and didn't mind it a bit until that fall when I was walking down the aisle at the University of Idaho's production of "Oklahoma." Out of the crowd came the young voice of a Neewahlu summer camper, "SPIC! Hey, SPIC!!!"
By that time, I was fully aware that the name had another meaning. Not looking to the left or right, I simply walked forward, found my seat and prayed that little kid would keep her mouth shut. She did. I escaped, and I think that was the last time I ever got called Spic. I'm sure the little camper has learned her political correctness lesson by now.
As for Spam, I'll always take it on my plate, but keep the damn stuff out of my computer!
3 comments:
Ah, yes, Spam is a staple at our house. We eat it at least once a month. Fried in a sandwich with cheese...in scrabbled eggs, in salads..
Never understood the put down of Spam. We ate it once a week as kids.
Ya aint really lived 'til ya've dined on Light Armour Treat tacos.
MJB
Good Morning Mary Ann,
My husband of almost 26 years swears that his love for "Spam" is what keeps him so well preserved. We have spam, moment, memories sharing when we go camping and serve the delegtible delight! One comes to mind, when everyone was participating in the millennium madness, he came home with a six pack of Budlite and a can of spam and said, "If anything can, spam can." Ha! Also, on his trip to Alaska (during the 30 yr. reunion mind you) he did not catch a salmon until he slipped his spam baseball hat on...next thing he knew, a 41 lb.salmon was his big catch. There are many, many more spam stories, but I have gone on long enough for this morning. I will share your recipe from camp with him. :-)
Take care, the misplaced spud, Julie
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