I walked into a bookstore and walked out a vegan

How a trip to a bookstore changed my diet and my life forever

Eight years ago, while on summer vacation in Block Island, Rhode Island, after five straight days of rain, with two bored kids in tow, I hit the local bookstore for some much-needed distraction. A book with a bight green cover, and the title, Eating Animals caught my attention. The author was Jonathan Safran Foer. I’m a big fan of his. Everything is Illuminated and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close are two of my favorite books. I picked up his latest release and started reading the back cover.

Over my shoulder, an ominous warning came from the bookstore’s proprietor, “Don’t buy that book unless you want your life changed.”

“Well, now I have to buy the book,” I joked.

Deadpan, she reiterated her warning, “Seriously. If you like meat, don’t read that book.”

I wasn’t put off. I was not too fond of meat, although I still ate meat.

I had some unfortunate animal-related incidences growing up. My dad hunted. My very first memory at about four years old is that of him eviscerating and dressing a pheasant. I remember the squiggly guts on the table and the content of the bird’s stomach… acorns. My mother hosted game suppers for my dad and his hunting friends. The menu included rabbit, duck, raccoon, and bear. Once, she even cooked a snapping turtle. The smell of swamp casserole is still stuck in my nostrils, and I was five at the time. When I tell you that the smell of simmering snapping turtle is pungent, I am grossly (operative word) under exaggerating.

When I was around ten, I wandered into the loft of our barn looking for my dad. There were rows upon rows of animal hides hanging in the rafters, drying on stretchers. The smell of the fox and raccoon pelts was rotten and sickly-sweet. It gagged me.

“Why do you have to do this?” I asked.

“These furs are going to buy your Christmas presents, you want Christmas presents, don’t you?” my dad asked, irritated.

No, actually, I thought. I‘d prefer not to have the deaths of these animals on my conscience. Let’s skip Christmas this year. I didn’t say that, of course. That’s not the type of thing I could tell my dad. Besides, I don’t judge him for those choices. His relationship with animals was nothing like mine. He grew up on a turkey farm where slaughtering animals was an everyday occurrence. And he wasn’t just hunting animals to buy us gifts, he liked hunting, the reasons he enjoyed the activity were his own.

Once there was a deer, waiting to be skinned, hanging from my swing set. Many times my parents tricked me into “trying game-meat” by telling me it was beef. Side note: venison does not taste like beef. We had cows and pigs on our farm. They all ended up on my plate. I protested, I announced I was vegetarian more than once. I was “talked” into finishing my dinner each time. I choked the meat down, then, after a while, I just conformed. Life was more comfortable that way. Truth be told, I wasn’t putting up a huge fight. My personal beliefs surrounding eating animals weren’t fully formed, it was still a moral grey area. One day I’d say no more meat, the next I’d request turkey dinner for my birthday meal.

 

My favorite photo ever: me and my turkey bff

That day, in the bookstore, I read this:

“Not responding is a response – we are equally responsible for what we don’t do.” ~ Jonathan Safran Foer, Eating Animals

and this:

The author, on why his grandmother, fleeing from the Nazi’s, starving and near death, would not eat pork when it was offered to her by a kindly farmer – “If nothing matters, there’s nothing to save.”

and this excellent question:

“Just how destructive does a culinary preference have to be before we decide to eat something else? If contributing to the suffering of billions of animals that live miserable lives and (quite often) die in horrific ways isn’t motivating, what would be? If being the number one contributor to the most serious threat facing the planet (global warming) isn’t enough, what is? And if you are tempted to put off these questions of conscience, to say not now, then when?”

So, that was it. I had made a giant pot of chili for that trip to Block Island. I never ate a drop, and I haven’t eaten meat since. I never will. I am just as sure about never eating a hamburger as I am about not barbecuing my neighbor’s golden retriever. The day I stopped eating meat, I felt a rush of latent anger and anxiety leave my heart. I like the calm, peaceful feeling that my veggie lifestyle provides, and I can look into the eyes of any animal, domestic, farm, or wild and meet them as friends. It feels good, it feels right. I highly recommend it.

Peace and Plants,

Mariah

P.S. If you are vegan, or vegan-curious and would like to make friends with the animals that make up most people’s dinner plates- please visit Farm Sanctuary (where all these photos were taken). Or, pick up your own copy of, Eating Animals.