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Let me introduce myself. I have always been a vegetarian in my heart. In my

stomach, since...

 

When I was a child, in the '50s, I remember ordering " spare ribs " in a

restaurant, thinking that was ok because they were spare; the animal hadn't

needed them. In the early '60s, I told my mother I was going to be a

vegetarian. She either didn't get it, or wouldn't. Meat was basically

manditory... and so was washing bloody pans. Circa 1968, I saw a movie called

Sweet November. One character, a vegetarian, was icluded in a Thanksgiving

dinner with a jello-mold turkey. I guess no fact-checker looked up ground

animal hoofs. Nonetheless, I was inspired. In early 1969, at a restuarant

called Ratso's, in Chicago, looking at all the salads on the menu, I announced I

was a vegetarian. And, except for once, in the late '70s, when at a dinner party

where the hostess, who hadn't been warned that I wouldn't eat meat, was crushed

that I wouldn't taste what she had been cooking all day. So, I did. (Yes, it

made me ill).

 

I am offended by the smoke and smells from charring flesh.

 

I've also noticed that wild animals, often prey, are not afraid of me. I must

not smell like a meat-consuming preditor!

 

So, that's me. Who are you?