My lunch today consisted of baked wild Corvina and a vegetable salad consisting of broccoli, Brussel sprouts, cabbage, kale, chicory, dried cranberries, roasted pumpkin seeds, and poppy seed dressing. This was my first time eating Corvina. It is a fish and it was delicious. As I sat at my dining room table, looking out of the window at the trees beginning to blossom and eating my fish, suddenly out of nowhere, vegetarians crossed my mind. The thinker that I am, followed that thought through to the end. As I understand it, some vegetarians don’t eat meat, fish, or poultry because it is the flesh of a living thing that was murdered. Or killed. Or slaughtered. That is no longer living. I took a bite of my salad. I considered the contents: broccoli, cabbage, kale, and Brussel sprouts that had all been growing peacefully in someone’s garden. Until these poor plants were snatched from the earth, chopped, cleaned up, and shipped to a vendor so that consumers like me could purchase them to eat. Now if we are going to not eat something because it did not die a natural death or commit suicide, we would not be eating anything. We would starve. I love flowers. I plant them every summer. I have perennials. I do not want anything or anyone to destroy them once I’ve watered, nourished, and watched them grow. But when winter comes they die. So again, plants and vegetables are living things, and when we eat them they are no longer plugged into their life support. A dead plant. A dead fish, fowl, or cow. All have to die in order for us to eat them. Although I’ve seen shows on television with people popping wiggling, squirming crawly things into their mouths.

So for me, becoming a vegetarian would be a False Start. For those of you like myself, who need a complete definition and classification of a vegetarian, read the link below:

In my new novel “A False Start,” there are no vegetarians. By design. I’m just sayin’.

Read the first four chapters at: