Spam

Before I arrived, Dr. Tokpa told me to stop in Monrovia and buy essentials that I would need. He specifically said to buy Spam. Permission granted! When I was a boy, my best friend Jack brought Spam sandwiches in his lunch box. I liked Jack a lot and I wanted my mother to fix me Spam sandwiches just like Jack's. Denied. We didn't eat Spam. We had turkey, and chicken, and cheese with mustard or peanut butter and black raspberry jam. After the war, my father did not want to look at an other Spam sandwich, and I suspect this was all tied up in a status thing as well. Jack would not trade even half a sandwich. I could hardly blame him.
Just like with grape juice, when I grew up I would eat Spam every day. (Grape juice it seemed would stain my teeth.) I sometimes wonder why, when we grow up those fantasies seldom get satisfied. (I wanted an Airstream trailer too!) Now I can eat all the Spam I want, and it's just as good as I imagined. Fried on a sandwich or cubed in pasta and rice it's pretty tasty. I think of Jack and wish he were here to share a sandwich.