on the gobble and graciousness

Last Sunday, S. and I were invited a a friend's house in Boulder for an early Thanksgiving feast. As we drove highway 36 west into the mountains, we talked about eating turkey.

"Are you going to eat it?" I asked.
"I don't know," said S.
"Do you think they'll have a free range organic no hormones or antibiotics turkey?" said I. "Or do you think they'll have a chemical laden Butterball?"
"I can't imagine they would have a Butterball," responded S.
"How will we know? Can we ask?"
"I don't think so, honey."
"Well what if we took a bite and said something like 'Oh this turkey is so good, what kind is it?' and if they say Butterball then...oh wait, that won't work, cuz it defeats the purpose of not eating the turkey."
"Well," S. begins, "you know me. Southerners are all about being gracious. I would rather eat what is given to me than make some statement about not eating meat and come across as ungracious."

Politics, schmolitics, Southerners are all about manners.

So we went, and there was a huge turkey, and I have no idea if it was free range or Butterball or hand raised by our guests themselves. The house smelled magnificent, and we had a great time. (I love meeting my friend's parents. This was no exception. Jimmy and Marie from Boston with their thick accents and big laughs; Elaine from Kentucky with her drawl and the most kickin' sweet potato casserole I have ever eaten.) I ate one thin slice of turkey, probably the size of an adult mitten. I ate gravy too, and it was kick ass. I had one serving of everything, and did not go back for seconds, even though every single skinny minny chiseled Boulder uber-athlete at the table did. The neighbor woman sitting to my left ate three pieces of pie. I ate one.

I did not have an upset stomach later on that night, or the next day. I didn't think "oh my! I ate meat! The world is coming to an end!" I ate what was so lovingly prepared for me and for my wife and I enjoyed every bite--in part because of the company, but also because I CHOSE not to make an issue out of it. I wasn't going to die if I ate meat; I have no allergies to animal flesh. And if I may be so bold: I believe wholly in the food chain and its more complex cousin, the food web; I do not think animals are on the same level cognitively as humans, which is not to say that I believe they are non-sentient beings but rather that they are not capable of deductive reasoning. I do not wish to see another mammal suffer in order to put food on my plate; however, if I were in a position wherein my life was in danger and I was starving to death, would I kill a rabbit or a deer or catch fish for food? Without a shred of guilt? You bet your ass I would.

So in the past 4+ months I have eaten meat three times. Chicken: okay, but nothing worth pining for. Bacon: I don't like the way the smell lingers in my house and I can live without it. Now turkey...I miss turkey. I really do. But I'm going to keep on keepin' on down this path of pescetarianism because I just feel better when I do. I haven't eaten to the point of uncomfortability once since I stopped eating meat. And that is a victory in itself.