Hitched

Actual program copy from our wedding. 

Two of my college-aged nieces live with us this summer so I am in the swim of the goings on in the lives of 20-year-olds. It is a pleasant break from the old people humdrum of my own life which usually involves news about knee replacements and surviving long enough to celebrate a significant birthday. Commonplace events for the young crowd are more likely to involve engagements and weddings. My nieces are involved in several weddings this summer and I enjoy hearing about all the nuptial details. Venues can range from backyard gardens to decorated barns to sandy beaches in exotic places. Food is usually catered by companies providing a wide range of choices. Deejays are hired to work the crowd with just the right music for a night of fun and awkwardness. Gifts are shuttled away so the happy couple can deal with them at a later time. Toasts are made as couples are sent out into the world as sets rather than singles.

The weddings of my generation some forty years ago (not a typo) were far less elaborate, especially if you lived in a small town. Options were limited to say the least. Fortunately, we didn't know any better. We did not have Pinterest to guide us to the perfect place settings and guest favors, no catering companies wooed us with samples of raspberry sorbet cake, no venue websites beckoned our business and no event planners painted pictures of enchanted wedding days for us.

Our venue was usually the church. The ceremony was held in the sanctuary and we then proceeded to the musty church basement for the reception. The local community building (windowless and featureless) could be also be booked for the reception. There were no caterers in our town so arrangements were made with the church ladies' club. They were a seasoned bunch, ready to spring into action for weddings or funerals. The menu choices were limited but usually involved a skimpy ham bun, a scoop of potato salad, a pickle or two and, of course, the ubiquitous cream cheese molded mints. I remember stressing out about the mints. I am not into making hundreds of molded treats that taste a little suspect to me, but traditions must be upheld so we persevered.

Tables were simply adorned and always included little decorated cups filled with peanuts and baby pastel mints to help take the edge off the guests' hunger. Punch was a fruit juice concoction with some fizzy stuff and a block of frozen juice floating around in the pool to keep it cool. We were not allowed to dance (something about the devil being involved in musical movement, I guess) so our only entertainment option was a program after the meal. Sad, I know, but we made the best of it. We sang camp songs with the lyrics re-written to reflect the life of the bride and groom. Somebody's uncle was usually the sweating emcee who supplied us with the cheesy jokes and awkward introductions. Sometimes the literary relative in the family wrote a poem especially for the honored couple and shared pithy wisdom with the crowd. Trivia games about the newly married couple were popular and perhaps a prize or two was given for winning the contest. And if things were really dull, the couple opened each gift, one by one, and oohed and ahhed over bath towels and avocado green fondue pot sets.

Despite the variety of wedding styles and traditions, most weddings have a couple of things in common. They have two people who are committed to each other enough to plan an event celebrating their bonding. And there are a lot of friends and family rooting for them to succeed in their new life together.

Enjoy your wedding invites this summer and dance an extra dance for me. I'm behind a few, for sure.

Not actual mints from my wedding, but pretty sure the little
 suckers would have survived all these years.  

Spam

Happy Birthday, America! And Happy Birthday, Spam! For clarification purposes, the Spam I am referring to has nothing to do with the evil tidings often found sabotaging our inboxes. Rather, the little birthday boy is the iconic meat product called Spam. On July 5, Spam turned 80 years old and is still going strong.

Our little pink friend has certainly grown up over the years. What was once just one choice of meat product in all its gelatinous glory, has morphed into several varieties and packaging options. Available now are selections such as oven roasted turkey Spam, jalapeno Spam, Spam spread and Teriyaki Spam (receiving an 874 yum rating on the official Spam site).  Garnering the highest yum rating, however, is still the Classic Spam (3067 yums, in case you are wondering).

Spam usually elicits one of two responses, love or repulsion. It is often derided as a scourge upon the culinary world. And, yet, billions of cans are sold in 44 countries around the world. So there is still a lot of love going on for our porky friend. History buffs are quick to remind us that some of the infatuation is a result of World War II. Spam was the perfect food product for our troops abroad. It was portable, sturdy and best of all, shelf stable. Pacific island residents tend to be high volume customers of Spam due to their historical involvement in the war.  

I don't remember a lot of Spam meals growing up. We were on a farm with chickens, pigs and cows so our meat requirements were primarily being met without the blue can. Occasionally, however, my mother would fry up slices of Spam for a meal and we all felt like we just had a special treat. The key on the can was also a fascination for us. No can opener needed, if all went well with the key. The schlurp of the brick of meat plopping out of the can was an interesting process. Our homegrown meat was usually wrapped in white freezer paper and needed to stay chilled until time for cooking. Spam could sit on our pantry shelf for long periods of time just waiting to be called into action for a quick meal.

Spam had an aggressive marketing department. They created snappy ads in the 50's and 60's extolling their product's benefits. Their slogan was, "Cold or hot, Spam hits the spot." They released a recipe book and also included serving ideas in their magazine ads. My favorite was a well dressed gentleman suggesting Spam with salads. Chef's salad, perhaps? Not quite. The photo is a plate of sliced cold Spam nestled next to a lime green jello mold and a couple sprigs of parsley and a few radish slices. Gotta love the days of my youth. Salad usually meant something with jello or pudding and fruit cocktail.

Spam does not hold a spot on my pantry shelf but I still admire its tenacity and the lessons we can learn from a pork product in a can.

1) Be useful to others.
2) Support your troops.
3) Don't worry about the naysayers.
4) And above all, don't take yourself too seriously and maybe others will like you for 80 years and beyond.