Spam

When I was a child, spam seemed to have a certain magic, a kind that only children are capable to feel. In fact, this magic was in the can, more specifically in the key that was used to open the can. All other cans of all other products needed an opener that could be purchased separately, but the spam can didn't, it had its own key.

Every time my father was back from the market, I used to quickly go and see if I could find that can inside the bags. Once I found it, I immediately picked it up and asked him to let me open it, but I always heard a "no", because it could cut my finger. I became sad and couldn't wait until I grew up and was able to turn that key rolling a metal strip from the can and dividing it into two parts, a larger one and another much smaller, looking like a lid. Both have sharp edges, as sharp as knives.

My father liked to make appetizers with spam. He used to open the can, cut the "meat" into small cubes, add few pieces of cheese, some olives, quail eggs, pickled onions and potatoes and a bit of olive oil. When the appetizers were done, it was time to open a super cold bottle of beer and serve it into an American glass, it had to be this one, it was the right glass for drinking beer, and it had to have two or three fingers of collar. Then he used to give me the key and I used to play with it for the rest of the day. I don't remember what kinds of play I used to create, but certainly, at least in one of them, I was opening an imaginary can of spam. I had a collection of these keys and kept them inside one of those tube-shaped plastic holders with a screw cap and a string to hang around the neck, which at that time was very common on beaches and swimming pools because the water couldn't enter it and we could keep the money without getting wet.

All these memories came back inside my head while I was shopping for the month at the usual supermarket, more specifically while I was passing through the canned goods section. I looked at one of the shelves and there was a can of spam. There it was, between a can of feijoada and a can of Vienna sausage, on the last shelf up there. I stood on tiptoe, stretched out my arm, picked it up and threw it among the other things that already were inside the shopping cart. I went to the cashier, paid the bill and got my car.

When I arrived at home, I took all the shopping bags out of the car and carried them to the kitchen. I had to go from my car to the kitchen and back for 4 times. I took a shower, put on shorts and a shirt, opened a bottle of beer, filled two American glasses, one for me and another for my wife, with two or three fingers of collar, we made a toast and took the first sip. I remembered the spam can and went looking for it inside the bags so I could make and revive the appetizer my father used to make. When I found it, I tried to open it, but it came without the key. I opened it with pliers and made the appetizer. We ate and drank. We had a delightful night.