Spam
It’s funny how the same word can mean different things in English like, ‘Spam’. Some will think of Spam as the canned meat invented in 1937, which came from a shortening of the term, ‘spiced ham’, and because it was processed, was excluded from rationing in World War II. For a generation, Spam became one of the staple foods in their diet. Some joked that the letters stood for, “Something Posing As Meat.”
Some may also remember that the idea of ‘Spam with everything’ became immortalized in the classic Monty Python comedy sketch in which a restaurant serves all its food with Spam, and the customer becomes evermore exasperated. Thus, giving rise to the meaning to those of you who are computer literate, that Spam is now associated with something that keeps repeating to great annoyance, just like junk e-mail. Whether meat or messages, the word Spam touches that nerve in us that desires variety – freedom – change.
Rationing
I have never experienced rationing. I do remember the power cuts and bread shortages of the 1970’s. As a boy, I also remember the water shortages of the summer of 1976. But because of the rise in the cost of living today, a whole new generation is sadly becoming aware. They are learning about the things we should never take for granted. A few years ago there was a British Legion campaign linked with Age UK called, “A Return to Rationing?” highlighting the hardship experienced by many former veterans unable to cope with rising food and energy costs.
Mark Twain once said: “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.” Over a century after the war that was said to end all wars, we are acutely aware of this rhyming pattern of history.
Today is an act of remembrance for those who have, and continue to give up so much for the freedom we enjoy. But Remembrance Sunday is also a recognition that we should not take these freedoms for granted, but promise to play our part in changing things for a better world. And what might that look like?
Jesus said good things often start small, like Mustard Seeds. It might simply be by buying an extra poppy this year, or more actively supporting those organizations like the British Legion, Age UK, and others. Or you or your family could lobby local councillors and MPs on behalf of impoverished veterans. This is all healthy Spam, to add to our daily diet.
Why? Because we are reminded, perhaps for the first time in a generation, that freedom that brings quality to our lives can never be taken for granted, and sometimes has to be worked for, even fought for. And that sometimes involves sacrifice – just as is remembered today.
In our world of constant white noise, some say America First. Others say Russian Sovereignty. I say there is no future in such phrases – it is just more Spam. And maybe that’s why we need two minutes of silence as an antidote to dangerous rhetoric.
Even if, like Mark Twain, we believe our history is fated to repeat the same old rhymes – we still have the power to change the intonation. This layer of meaning goes beyond words and can be used to add emphasis, express feelings, or ask questions. In some languages, like Chinese, intonation changes the meaning of a word completely. In English, intonation stresses different words which can lead to different understandings and therefore – different outcomes.
A century before the outbreak of World War II, the playwright Edward Bulwer-Lytton, created the phrase, “The Pen is mightier than the Sword.”
Despite the horrors of the 20th century and the terrors of the 21st, I still believe this phrase to be true. For example, we have all been reminded this year, through elections across the globe, how even an X written on a small piece of paper can determine the fate of nations. And the poets of World War I such as Wilfred Owen, still possess great resonance and potency to determine our thoughts and actions, if we let them. So even though our ‘Rhymes of Remembrance‘ may remain the same, in the silence of our remembering we still have the power as we go forward, to change the intonation…
If ever I dreamed of my dead name
High in the heart of London, unsurpassed
By Time for ever, and the Fugitive, Fame,
There seeking a long sanctuary at last,
I better that; and recollect with shame
How once I longed to hide it from life’s heats
Under those holy cypresses, the same
That shade always the quiet place of Keats,
Now rather thank I God there is no risk
Of gravers scoring it with florid screed,
But let my death be memoried on this disc.
Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed.
But may thy heart-beat kiss it night and day,
Until the name grow vague and wear away.
‘With an Identity Disc‘ by Wilfred Owen (1917)
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