Dear Meat,
I
can’t let you go without taking the time to remember all the moments that
earned you a place as happy food memory.
You were there, but for what reason? Things happen for a reason and it’s undeniable, our paths
have been intertwined for a long, long time.
You
were there for my great-grandparents when German still rolled off their tongues
in the new country. You gave them
a way to survive, to succeed, profit and pioneer, O’ Pioneers! I come from agrarians and
entrepreneurs.
The
business of this new world is based on the barn yard. If you can keep animals where you live, hunting becomes
shopping, less dangerous for you.
You begin to live longer, grow taller and discover leisure time. But I don’t need to tell you, right
Meat?
I’m
going to step in and share some stories with you because I know your family
isn’t around to get you in the know.
You used to belong to a wild creature, one that had equal footing in the
universe, one that tried to survive.
The wild was bred out of your line.
Don’t
worry Meat, I’m not so short-sided that I am only looking at the domesticated
you. I know your more free roots,
too. I know fat corn-fed deer that
leap at great lengths to avoid death.
I know feathers with hollow bones riding the wind and landing on a wee
pond that have met their end for the love of water. I have seen you swim in schools, alive and breathing water,
falling for a hook. I know your type—the
one with a shell that protects against some things, but not against meat.
Please,
take your time to let this all sink in.
I’m not going anywhere—not until we say goodbye together. And who knows about after that. I’ll try to help.
I’m
going to have to address some of your various forms individually, Meat. It just wouldn’t be right to leave out
the details.
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