This blog entry got me thinking about my memories of Spam.
Memory Number 1:
I was a young adolescent, visiting my Uncle Dennis in San Francisco. (Today is his birthday. Happy birthday, Duncle Ennis!) I think he was between roommates, for some reason. There were no women around, anyway, which was a bad omen, because all that he had to eat was... you guessed it... Spam. This was unbelievable to me, and I thought he must be joking. But he was not. That's about all I remember, except that there seemed to be a lot of cats around, stalking his flat.
Memory Number 2:
It was 1992 and I was an exchange student in Sweden for my last year of high school. In the Swedish "gymnasie" school, your English class was sort of like your home room. My English teacher, Eva (they go by first names there), thought it would be nice if I would share an American snack with the class. Which left me in a kind of conundrum. What food was quintessentially American? I didn't want to do hamburgers, because McDonald's had already made it to Sweden, even in 1992, so that would be old news. I wanted to do something truly special. So, I had my stepmother, Jean, ship me some Spam and Saltines.
I made little Spam sandwiches and served them to my English class. Many of my classmates took me quite seriously, and critiqued my snack as though it were real food. Others, however, had seen this video, and broke into a little Viking song. But I was truly found out when someone asked me, "Aren't you going to have any?"
"Well, um, no."