I’ve been a carnivore for probably 99% of my life. Even as a finicky little kid, when eating meals felt more like a chore than a pleasure, I would never turn down a hamburger, meatballs, a strip of bacon or a breakfast sausage patty.
The concept of “vegetarianism” appalled me from an early age — mostly because I associated it with my mom’s hippie friends, who liked to eat sprouts, tofu, carob and other wholesome and flavorless comestibles of the sort that could be found at the “health food” stores and restaurants of the early 1970s. But even as I grew older and began to learn about the potentially negative health effects of a meat-heavy diet, I defiantly continued to consume the stuff. It tasted great, after all, and I had the molars to chew it with; and in my 20s, even a two-cheeseburger-a-day regimen couldn’t seem to put any extra poundage on my skinny frame, so what did I have to worry about?
Of course, that kind of eating — or maybe my genetics, or maybe both — caught up with my cholesterol and waistline in my 30s, so I began to cut down on my meat intake. Well, actually, I just cut down on the beef and pork, and substituted turkey and chicken instead. I (mostly) stopped eating burgers at fast food establishments; beef was now primarily reserved for special occasions, like the “beef and baseball” road trip I took in the summer of 2002 with my friend Josh, or sitting down to a big, juicy steak with some friends at an old-school steakhouse. Living in L.A. for 20+ years, I craved the Italian beef sandwiches I’d grown up with (on?) in Chicago; and two years ago, when my wife and I moved back to the Windy City, I couldn’t wait to eat them again — albeit on a limited, “one per month” basis.
This all despite the fact that, since at least the early Nineties, I’d been well aware that the conditions in the American meatpacking industry weren’t really a whole lot better than they were back when Upton Sinclair wrote about them in The Jungle. I’d also been well aware that majority of the animals slaughtered in service of the food industry had been treated abominably on their way to their unfortunate demise. And yet, despite all the reading I did on the subject — and as much as I loved animals — I still ultimately felt more conflicted than disgusted. I still found ways to justify eating meat (“Oh, free range chicken, that’s okay”), primarily because it tasted so damn good. But I think I also did it because, at a very deep level, I’d been conditioned (or maybe conditioned myself) to think of meat as a reward, and maybe even a right.
Once, in the early 2000s, after reading a particularly heartbreaking article about the treatment of calves and cows in the beef trade, I decided to give up meat for a summer… and wound up gaining ten pounds in the process. “That’s it,” I thought at the time. “I clearly need meat in my diet!”
And on I went, until the day about five years ago when my wife and I were passed on a North Carolina highway by a truck hauling pigs to the slaughterhouse. Katie was driving, so I had plenty of time to observe the pigs’ expressions and body language — and they all looked profoundly depressed, like they knew what was up and had utterly lost the will to fight back. I’d loved pigs and been fascinated by them ever since I was twelve, when it had been my duty to feed a gigantic hog by the name of “Big Pig” during a week-long school field trip to a farm in northern Michigan. I knew that they were smart, sensitive and social creatures, yet even that knowledge hadn’t been enough to make me completely banish pork products from my diet. But that day in NC, I realized that I could no longer eat them. It hurt my heart too badly to see them so sad and defeated, to fully understand in that moment that they were going to be killed just to support the pernicious “baconization” of the American diet. And I just didn’t want to be part of that any longer.
While other meat was still “on the table” for me at the time, this has slowly been changing ever since those pigs opened up my heart and mind that day on the highway. As someone who is staunchly pro-environment, it doesn’t make sense for me to support an industry like factory farming, which — in addition to the myriad cruelties inflicted upon the animals — poisons the surrounding air, water and earth with its waste. And as someone who deeply loves animals, I just feel too hypocritical about loving and doting on my cats while simultaneously consuming other “lesser beasts”.
And frankly, I no longer buy the notion that farm or wild animals are inherently “lesser” than domesticated ones. Facebook may be awful and annoying in any number of ways, but it has enriched my life (and provided daily joy) by making me aware of the work being done at numerous animal sanctuaries around the world, including The Gentle Barn, Happily Ever Esther, Santuario Igualidad and Ziggy’s Refuge Farm Sanctuary. In addition to caring for their animals — many of whom would have otherwise ended up in the slaughterhouse — these organizations do an excellent job of educating their followers about said creatures’ personalities, and encouraging a deeper understanding and appreciation of them as sentient beings who have more to offer than their meat. The posts from these organizations have regularly warmed my heart and made me laugh, but they’ve also set the wheels a-turning in my brain…
Two weeks ago, Katie and I had the immense pleasure of visiting and staying overnight at one of these places: Ziggy’s Refuge Farm Sanctuary in Providence, NC. (All the pics in this post are from our visit.) For years now, we’ve had a dream that we will one day adopt a pig or two, and maybe a few ducks besides; so to actually meet and hang out Ziggy — the irascibly charming 350-pound pig known to his Internet fans as Ziggy the Traveling Piggy — was a real treat. But my heart was additionally warmed (and in some cases stolen) during our stay by dozens of the other animals that proprietors Kristin and Jay also lovingly care for. Whether it was Max the donkey, Whitey the dog, Addie the cat, Elvis the cow, or various other pigs, goats, horses and barnyard fowl, I saw a sweet soul everywhere I looked. Each one of these animals had a story; some had been abused or neglected, some had been too difficult or expensive for others to take care of, some had physically escaped from the trucks that were taking them to slaughter. But at Ziggy’s Refuge, these lucky ones will get to live out the rest of their days in comfort and peace, amid a gorgeous pastoral setting.
When it came time for us to leave, I was filled with an incredible mix of joy and sadness, like my heart was simultaneously expanding and breaking. I was so happy for all of these animals, so stoked to see that the Refuge was actually as real and as full of love and beauty and kindness as it had been portrayed on Facebook; but at the same time, I knew that the situation of Ziggy’s pals was so statistically unusual as to be practically unique. For instance, there are about 10 or 12 piggies living out their lives in the mud, sunshine and fresh air of Ziggy’s Refuge; meanwhile, about 115 million of their kind are killed every year in the US alone. I knew in that moment that I could no longer live disconnected or detached in any way from that kind of reality.
Which is why, at the ripe old age of 51, I’ve decided to go fully vegetarian. I know that some people who’ve known me for a long time will be as surprised by this as if I said I’d decided to stop listening to Thin Lizzy and AC/DC. Others who read this will no doubt wonder what took me so long to get here; I honestly wish I’d come to this conclusion earlier, but here we are. (To her credit, my wife got there much earlier, and has been gently nudging me in that direction, albeit with the intrinsic understanding that I can be a stubborn fucker.) I’m sure there are others who will mock me for giving up delicious meat, and still others will tell me that my decision doesn’t mean shit unless I go fully vegan — an option I’m open to exploring, though I’m admittedly nowhere near there yet. Regardless, I’m very pleased to finally have the meat monkey off my back.
Animal welfare, environmental concerns and dietary considerations are all part of the equation behind my decision to finally go meatless, but there’s another aspect to it, as well. At a time when greed, hate and fear are not only on the rise but are being actively encouraged, I feel like the best, most constructive thing we can do is to promote love, openness, understanding and (above all) kindness — and for me, not eating animals or otherwise contributing to their misery goes right along with that. I guess I’d been leaning in this direction for a while now, but I’d like to say thank you to Ziggy and all his pals for helping me get there. This July 4th, Katie and I will be grilling up some veggie dogs in your honor.
