Play It Again, Spam (12 page)

me. And nice white teeth, Lord - guests don't like looking at tobacco and coffee stains. And it wouldn't hurt if he brought his own

costume. I don't have time to do any sewing now."

Before I could even say "amen" there was a knock on the door.

"Thank you, Lord!"

I strode over to the front door, caught a glimpse of an Amish face through the peephole, and flung it open.

"Ach," Strubbly Sam squawked, clearly startled.

"You!"

"Yah, it's me, Big Magdalena - "

"Don't you Big Magdalena me!" I tried to slam the door on Strubbly Sam, but the man has feet the size of continents, and one

of them, South America, I think, was firmly placed on the doorsill.

"Here." He thrust a hand the size of Belgium through the crack. In it was a package wrapped in brown butcher paper.

Never turn away a man bearing gifts until you've had a chance to examine the offerings. I opened the door grudgingly.

"Somebody leave that on my doorstep?"

"Ach, I brought it myself. It's fresh butter. Three pounds of it."

I'm no fool, so I took it. "Thanks. Say, Strubbly Sam, are you trying to court me?"

He blushed, from the brim of his straw hat to the V of his white cotton shirt. "Would that be so bad? I've been very lonely

since my Amanda, God rest her soul, passed on."

"But Strubbly, dear, I'm Mennonite, and you're Amish. Doesn't the Bible warn us against being unevenly yoked in marriage?"

Frankly, if I was going to be yoked again, it was going to be with someone to whom deodorant was not a worldly vice. Preferably,

it would be to someone closer to my own age - like Mel Gibson or Harrison Ford. Even Brad Pitt would do in a pinch.

"Ach, Magdalena, there is such an easy solution."

"There is?"

"Yah, I could speak to the new bishop. It would be a simple thing for you to join the Amish church." He chuckled at his little

joke. "After all, your ancestors were all Amish, weren't they?"

"Indeed they were, dear, but they obviously took issue with some things and left that denomination. Who am I to argue with

their wisdom?"

We were still standing in my lobby, and Strubbly Sam was still wearing his straw hat. A more hospitable woman would have

invited her guest to take the load off his feet - not that tootsies that size couldn't support just about anything - but the parlor was

occupied, and I was afraid that if I invited Strubbly Sam into the dining room, he might invite himself to supper.

Strubbly Sam seemed quite content to stand. "And doesn't the Bible say that God created Eve so that Adam wouldn't have to

be alone? So that he would have a helpmate?"

"You're quite right, dear. But it says nothing about we women needing company. Indeed, had the Good Lord created Eve

first, there would have been no need for men."

"Ach!" Strubbly Sam glanced up at the ceiling, perhaps expecting to see a lightning bolt.

"You see why I wouldn't make a very good Amish woman?"

He finally had the nerve look away from the ceiling and at me. "You believe in this - this - "

"Equality of the sexes?"

"Yah, that."

I shook my head vigorously. "No way, dear. It is a biological fact that women are superior to men."

He gasped. "Well, maybe not in terms of brute strength, which, if you ask me, is the only reason we're not in charge of things.

But we live longer, are more resilient, and of course we whine a lot less when we're sick. Oh, did I mention that we are just as

intelligent, if not more intelligent, than you?"

Strubbly Sam, now the color of powdered sugar, was swaying like a birch in a thunderstorm. Had it not been for South

America and Africa beneath him, he might well have pitched forward, possibly even adding to the death toll of these premises. It

was clear that Big Magdalena now stood a snowball's chance in you-know-where of ever becoming the next Mrs. Strubbly Sam

Berkey.

"You don't suppose your new bishop would agree with me?"

"Ach!"

"Well, I guess that settles that then, doesn't it? But I hear that Anna Yutzy is already twenty-three and still unmarried. That's a

real shame, you know, because she makes the best pie crust in the county, and with hips like those - well, there could be a whole

new generation of Strubbly Sams running around the Hernia area."

Once again, duo continents kept my visitor upright. "Ach! Anna Yutzy is - is - "

"Now, be kind, dear. And don't think you're too old to procreate. If Clint Eastwood can, you can too. And I just happen to know

that Anna Yutzy loves children."

He mumbled something about his horse being more attractive than Anna, which normally would have offended me, but in this

case it was all too true. The poor dear has one of the ugliest faces and weirdest shapes of any filly around - and yes, I'm speaking

of Strubbly Sam's horse.

"Yah, I must always try to be kind. I will confess this sin to the congregation next meeting Sunday."

"Don't you dare. That will only humiliate poor Anna. Besides, you didn't mutter your unflattering remark to another Amish

person. Just to these worldly ears of mine - and believe me, what goes into one, goes right out the other. So consider your nasty

little comment unsaid."

"Yah. You are a wise woman, Magdalena."

"Feel free to change my name to Wise Magdalena, dear. And of course spread the word. Maybe someday folks will refer to

me simply as the Wise One,. I've never been too fond of Magdalena, you know."

Strubbly Sam looked doubtful, but having learned his lesson, held his tongue.

"Well - thanks again for the butter." I tried edging him back to the door. It must take a lot of energy to uproot two-sevenths of

the earth's land surface, because he remained as immobile as Lot's wife after she turned around for one last glimpse of Sodom.

"Do you need a gentle push?" I asked sensibly.

He blinked. "Ach, I was just thinking."

"There's a first time for everything, dear." I don't mean to be cruel, but Strubbly Sam has another nickname: Slow Sam. Don't

take my word for it, either. Ask anyone in Bedford and Somerset counties. Strubbly Sam Berkey is not the fastest mare to pull a

loaded buggy.

Strubbly Sam smiled. "I understood that joke about thinking. It's because I'm from Australia, yah?"

Australia! So that was it! Who would have thought there were Amish down under? Did they, perchance, hitch kangaroos to

their buggies?

"G'day mate!" I said, pleased to give him a gentle push. "Take care crossing the billabong, and when you get home throw a

few shrimp on the barbie for me."

Strubbly, or Slow Sam - take your pick - had grown roots. "You really must be going, dear."

"Ach, Big Magdalena, are you all right?"

"It's Wise Magdalena now, remember? And I'm peachy-keen. What makes you ask?"

"You seem so eager that I should leave."

"Silly me. I guess I just hadn't considered the possibility of a live Amish coatrack. Do you do hats as well? Of course you

must, you're wearing a hat'"

"That was sarcasm, maybe?"

"Very good, dear, and so is this."

I am ashamed to say that the poor man's face looked like a soufflé after the oven door has been slammed. I hate treating

anyone badly - except for the truly deserved, like Melvin Stoltzfus - and especially an old defenseless Amish man like Strubbly

Sam.

"Big Magdalena, if you are in any kind of trouble - if anything is wrong - you can turn to me. Maybe there is something I can

do to help."

"Really? Well, in that case, my cook just quit, my slutty, slovenly sister is marrying a mantis, and one of my guests is missing.

Now fix that!"

Strubbly Sarn grinned. "I can fix all three things."

10

SPAM® Western Bean Soup

1 cup chopped onion

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 cup sliced carrots

3 (10 ½ ounce) cans condensed chicken broth

1 (14 ½ ounce) can tomatoes, cut up

1/3 cup chili sauce

3 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar

3 tablespoons cider vinegar

2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce

2 teaspoons prepared mustard

2 (15 ½ ounce) cans pinto beans, rinsed and drained

1 (12-ounce) can SPAM®@ Luncheon Meat, cubed

2 tablespoons chopped parsley

In 5-quart saucepan, sauté onion in oil until golden. Stir in carrots, chicken broth,

tomatoes, chili sauce, brown sugar, vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, and mustard. Mash

half of beans with fork; add mashed beans and whole beans to soup. Blend well. Bring to

a boil. Cover. Reduce heat and simmer 30 minutes or until carrots are tender. Stir in

SPAM® and parsley. Simmer 2 minutes. Serves 6.

NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION PER SERVING:

Calories 331; Protein 22g; Carbohydrates 34g; Fat 13g; Cholesterol 46mg; Sodium 2263mg.

11

Get out of town!"

Strubbly Sam looked like a sheep who had just been asked an algebra question.

"It's an expression of incredibility, dear. So tell me, how are you going to fix my life? Can you cook?"

He nodded. "Yah. I cook every day now that my Amanda is gone."

"I thought cooking was women's work."

"Yah, it is, but God looks the other way when there is no one to help."

"Hmm." If that were indeed true, maybe I should see about buying a new Hoover with all the attachments.

"Do you think you could follow a recipe for SPAM® jambalaya?"

"Ach, my favorite!"

"You'd be cooking for war veterans." Strubbly Sam blinked. "Soldiers?"

"Ex. But nonetheless mysterious, mumbling men who spend all their time huddled together in the parlor, no doubt scheming

to take over the government."

"God gives everyone a second chance, Magdalena. Why shouldn't I?"

"Well, okay, but what about the mantis?"

"You mean Melvin Stoltzfus, the chief of police, yah?"

"You got it. Incidentally, what nickname do you Amish have for him?"

Strubbly Sam found new interest in my ceiling.

"Handsome Mel."

"What "

"I too think he looks like a praying mantis, but the others" - he shrugged - "they think he's very handsome. Not that one

should be proud of such a thing, mind you. It is a gift from God."

I decided to move the conversation along before I said something uncharitable. My tongue may not cut cheese, like Irma

Yoder's, but it has been known to slice butter into neat, uniform pats.

"So how are you going to stop Susannah from marrying Melvin?"

"Does your sister know that Handsome Mel - "

" Please!"

"Does she know that Elvina's son is adopted?"

"Say what?"

"Elvina found him on the front porch the morning after a caravan of Gypsies passed through."

"Get out of town!" I'd known Melvin his entire life and had never heard that story. In fact, I clearly remember seeing Elvina

Stoltzfus pregnant. Still, the tale had a certain ring of truth. Leave it to Melvin to be left by the Gypsies, not stolen.

The sheep smiled, now that he knew an equation or two. "Elvina couldn't have any children herself, see, so she and Amos -

may his soul rest in peace - took the little boy in and raised him as their own."

I sighed. "That's all very interesting, dear, but it isn't going to stop her. Nor should it. There's nothing wrong with being

adopted."

"Yah, this is true." He scratched is head while the straw hat bobbled. "Ach, now I know!"

"Do tell, dear. Time's a-wasting."

"Handsome Mel only has one."

"One what?"

Strubbly Sam clamped a hand over his mouth, but that didn't stop the words from leaking through his fingers. "His head

wasn't the only place that bull kicked him."

"So what?" I wailed. "Susannah's slept with the man! That isn't going to be news to her. You can't stop this wedding, can