PARDON MY CONVICTIONS

This is insane. I've just spent four hours writing the first post of my new blog and now I'm dumping every word. Goodbye to all that phooey. The fact is I'm kickin'n'screamin' on my way to becoming vegan and the diet's only half the tale. It's the navel gazing I didn't see coming; my principles are becoming a real pain in the ass.

All will be revealed in the months ahead but first a story. It takes place at the dinner table in Merrick, New York with a family of five. The mother and father are not important to this story. It's all about the siblings. They are three girls, ages 15, 12 and 5. The little one would be me.

It's Monday night and dinner is served. Lamb chops. As the 5 year old starts to cut into her meat, the sisters start bleating like sheep.

It's Wednesday night and dinner is served. Hamburgers. As the 5 year old starts to cut into her meat, the sisters in unison moo.

It's Friday night challah and chicken. They flap, they squawk. If it's halibut they suck in their cheeks, pucker their mouths and guorami kiss. It's any night of the week and the 5 year old won't eat her peas. "Please eat me!" plead the sisters in that "Help Me!" voice from The Fly. "Please eat me! I feel so left out!"

That's the story and here's the ending: I was vegetarian by 15.

For obvious reasons - and genetic proclivities - I could never stomach meat. Thank God for the 60's and the rise of vegetarianism; my mother gave in without a fight. By Thanksgiving it was official, my Aunt Shirley duly warned about my new "meshuga diet". Then the inevitable questions: "What are we going to feed her? What is she going to eat?" Pounds of Jarlsberg, vats of pasta, pebbled beaches of M&M's! And never again those awful textures, all that pink gristle and bruised flesh.

Some folks go vegetarian for moral reasons, others for a healthier life style. Many love animals too much to eat them, a smattering of them just plain hate meat. Vegans, I'm here to tell, are their own particular meshuga stew.