Lunch meat

I remember what it tastes like to eat a lunch meat sandwich during my high school lunch break. I would open up a translucent light-blue square Tupperware container with a paper towel inside covering two slices of white bread. Inside I’d have mustard soaked into one slice, some slightly wilted iceberg lettuce on the other side, and in the middle a couple slices of lunch meat.

What is lunch meat? I’m not quite sure. I can tell you lots of things to describe it. It came in a rectangular block and you had to walk to the back of the store and ask for someone to slice it. Mom would ask us to walk to the corner store to order a half pound of bologna, a half pound of lunch meat, and a pack of Kool cigarettes, and also I’d be able to buy myself a soda or a candy bar as payment for making the trip. The lunch meat was square, pink, and flecked with other shades of pink. It couldn’t quite be labeled ham, but it was probably mostly ham and a few other things mixed together then pressed into a block.

I’m writing about it just because I noticed what a weird, anonymous name it is even though it sounded so natural for my whole life. I found myself thinking just a moment ago, “what the heck was lunch meat?”