Then, Dad would grill an especially juicy teriyaki-marinated flank steak, look at me
hopefully, and offer a slice—and I would accept. I’d mend my ways, steam rice and stir-fry snow peas
with mushrooms . . . and crumble at the first whiff of the Thanksgiving turkey roasting in the oven
and the proud smile on my mother’s face. My noble goals, it seemed, were doomed.
But then, I found a role model, one who demonstrated to me that I could live without meat and still be
a functioning member of society…
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