Why, my father-in-law asked calmly, are you a vegetarian? Is it for health reasons? We were in the middle of dinner -- can't these questions be asked before or after the actual chewing? -- and I looked across the table where my wife's stepmother was starting a hunk of meat on its grim journey from fork to alimentary canal. Next to her, Elahna sipped her wine. No, I answered, just as calmly, it's to lower my carbon footprint -- meat production expends a lot of greenhouse gases. Also, I have problems with the cruelty toward animals that's a feature of industrialized agriculture.
Coleman nodded, and so reigned a moment of long, greasy silence in their cramped dining room on Long Island. Then Marilyn easy-morphed into stepmonster, asserting how she, at least, turns out lights when leaving rooms, unlike Elahna who had left a bulb burning down Western Civilization in the guest bedroom. I defended my wife by reminding Marilyn of her huge carbon footprint as she flies around the world clutching her bucket list -- Ghent altarpiece, check; blue-footed boobies of the Galapagos, check -- and she snorted, the planes are going there anyway, and then Elahna chimed in with her firm-but-tolerant voice and Coleman kept eating, munch, munch, munch, and I reminded myself not to answer questions about being a vegetarian in front of meat eaters, never ever again.
The very practice of abstaining from eating animals is an affront to many people. It hits a chord, and so has arisen the meme of the sanctimonious vegetarian making everyone else feel bestial and selfish. But in my experience, just refusing to dig into the roast beast is enough to unhinge a lot of people. And if you're a vegan -- Good G-d! Don't tell me, you're off-the-grid, too?
Coleman nodded, and so reigned a moment of long, greasy silence in their cramped dining room on Long Island. Then Marilyn easy-morphed into stepmonster, asserting how she, at least, turns out lights when leaving rooms, unlike Elahna who had left a bulb burning down Western Civilization in the guest bedroom. I defended my wife by reminding Marilyn of her huge carbon footprint as she flies around the world clutching her bucket list -- Ghent altarpiece, check; blue-footed boobies of the Galapagos, check -- and she snorted, the planes are going there anyway, and then Elahna chimed in with her firm-but-tolerant voice and Coleman kept eating, munch, munch, munch, and I reminded myself not to answer questions about being a vegetarian in front of meat eaters, never ever again.
The very practice of abstaining from eating animals is an affront to many people. It hits a chord, and so has arisen the meme of the sanctimonious vegetarian making everyone else feel bestial and selfish. But in my experience, just refusing to dig into the roast beast is enough to unhinge a lot of people. And if you're a vegan -- Good G-d! Don't tell me, you're off-the-grid, too?
I thought of that dining encounter the other day after reading an article about the thousands of fires, primarily set by ranchers, now burning in the Amazon rainforest. The goal is to clear more land for cattle grazing. Simple as that, and to hell with the consequences: one of the planet's great carbon sinks is being destroyed to meet growing worldwide demand for steak and hamburger. Supposedly there's an agreement, negotiated by Greenpeace, requiring Brazilian meatpackers to avoid cattle raised on lands cleared by fire, but this regulation is got around by laundering the animals from ranch to ranch. Then I tripped upon another article; it seems that deforestation in the Amazon may altar the rainforest's weather system, converting much of the multitudinous habitat, reservoir of 100 billion tons of carbon, into scrubby savanna.
Could mankind's skyrocketing appetite for spare ribs and sirloin steaks doom us to runaway climate change and worldwide species decline (including our own)? Yes, it's possible. I'll spare you the statistics today as well as the nanny lecture about cutting down your meat consumption, embracing Meatless Monday and Fishy Friday and generally being more mindful of what you cram down your craving-craw. But I will say that I've eaten meat for most of my life and enjoyed it, with a growing background sense of unease in recent years. As a kid I loved Oscar Mayer Wieners and their commercial jingle. I ate hash from cans and even tried the dog's horse meat from his bowl -- not bad, a bit salty. I made the switch to vegetarian (including ocean-caught fish) at age 55, and fairly suddenly, during my recuperation from open-heart surgery. One day I picked up Yuval Noah Harari's amazing book Sapiens, read the chapter on our relationship to animals, and that was that.
Why, you ask, am I a vegetarian? Oh, that's a long, boring story. But what a nice brooch you're wearing! And how about those Mets...
Could mankind's skyrocketing appetite for spare ribs and sirloin steaks doom us to runaway climate change and worldwide species decline (including our own)? Yes, it's possible. I'll spare you the statistics today as well as the nanny lecture about cutting down your meat consumption, embracing Meatless Monday and Fishy Friday and generally being more mindful of what you cram down your craving-craw. But I will say that I've eaten meat for most of my life and enjoyed it, with a growing background sense of unease in recent years. As a kid I loved Oscar Mayer Wieners and their commercial jingle. I ate hash from cans and even tried the dog's horse meat from his bowl -- not bad, a bit salty. I made the switch to vegetarian (including ocean-caught fish) at age 55, and fairly suddenly, during my recuperation from open-heart surgery. One day I picked up Yuval Noah Harari's amazing book Sapiens, read the chapter on our relationship to animals, and that was that.
Why, you ask, am I a vegetarian? Oh, that's a long, boring story. But what a nice brooch you're wearing! And how about those Mets...
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