The Strange Delight of Pear Salad

IN THE SOUTH, we use the term "salad" quite liberally. If you've never attended a potluck with folding tables laden with cut-crystal platters bearing mysterious fruit-studded fluffs or shiny, gelatin-set "delights," I can see how these concoctions might cause you to raise an eyebrow. But as a Southerner, I know to expect far more than lettuce when salad is on the menu.
Of all the traditional dishes from the luncheons, get-togethers, and picnics of my childhood, there's one that reigns supreme. The recipe is simple: Open a can of pear halves (there's no place for fresh here), set them on your serving piece of choice (in my family, this means a deviled egg plate), dollop each with a hefty glob of mayonnaise (don't be shy!), and top with a generous sprinkle of shredded Cheddar cheese. Et voilà! Pear Salad.
Some folks serve it on a bed of butter lettuce or with a maraschino cherry on top, but for my Nana, those frilly additions were unnecessary. Her mother never added those garnishes, so neither did she. I can't remember a meal at Nana's house when there wasn't Pear Salad on the table, and I know that if I were to go into my mama's pantry right now, I'd find a can or two of pears "just in case we need an extra side."
It's one of those dishes...