This slogan was one of the many bumper stickers my grandpa had plastered on the back of his classic junker cars. If he were alive today, I have to wonder what he would think of my participation in Veguary. Since he was a poor Nebraska farmer who raised pigs and cattle, my guess is that he’d curse a lot and grab my nose with his boulder-like hands and shake my face vigorously. That was his signature Grandpa move.
Veguary has reached its halfway point and I am starting to consider whether or not I want Veguary to evolve into full-time vegetarianism. Even though I am far away from the small-town farming community where I was raised, the cultural stigma of being a vegetarian within an economy that relies so heavily upon animal products still sits uneasily within in me. By banishing meat from my diet, am I betraying my roots? And, furthermore, does that really matter?
I have a couple more weeks of Veguary to weigh these questions and decide for myself. In the end, I have to do what I feel is right for the environment and what is right for my health and well-being.
go eat a cow
I actually had that exact conversation with my extended family when I became a vegetarian. Why they were so concerned, I have no idea; we grow corn, wheat, and sunflowers. I’m actually supporting the family and its history.
Anyway, I walked away thinking this: If I followed my “roots” to the letter, I’d be a cowboy hat-wearing, truck-driving, country music-listening, rural SoDak-dwelling, pissed-off, racist and homophobic republican.
Vegetarianism is the least of my worries.