My parents chose to be vegetarians when they were still in college. For them, it was a manifestation of their spirituality. In other words, they were children of the 60s and professed compassion for all living things, which meant not eating them.
I remember when I was about eight years old, and we’d just moved to a small town in the Northwest. We lived in a hotel while searching for housing, and restaurants were “the kitchen.” The two restaurants within walking distance were a diner that served breakfast all day and a Chinese restaurant that served Chinese food. So, we ate a lot of Chinese food and pancakes.
“Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.”
— The Fray
It was the 80s, and people were still warming up to the idea of vegetarianism and smoking outside. Each night we ate at the Chinese restaurant; no matter how many times we’d been there, we had to explain at great length why we wanted non-smoking seating and what it meant to be vegetarian. They’d seat us in the back of the restaurant where there were no windows, and plunk down two ashtrays in front of my parents. Vegetarian Mushu would be ordered, and they’d bring it out covered in duck sauce because, as we soon discovered, fowl isn’t meat.
I’ll be honest: I was clueless and starving the first time it happened. It smelled delicious! I dove in with both hands, and my brain popped and fizzed with new flavor sensations. It was sweet and tangy and had a creamy but rubbery texture. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced! Looking up to see why my parents hadn’t dove in like me, I met their gaze and knew I must have done something terribly wrong.
I gently placed my fork and spoon back on the table and wiped my mouth. “What?”
“Katie, there’s meat in that. It has duck sauce on it.” My mom said.
I pulled out my most sorrowful puppy eyes and said, “But it tastes so good!”
“That’s fine.” My mom said flatly. “Go ahead. You can eat it… if you want.”
“Knowing what’s right doesn’t mean much unless you do what’s right.”
— Theodore Roosevelt
Sinking deep into my chair, I put my spoon down and served myself some sweet and sour tofu. It wasn’t the same. Fried tofu is squishy and crunchy simultaneously, and after you’ve tasted steaming duck-carcass-turned-gravy, it’s hard to go back.
My mom smiled, satisfied with “my decision,” and returned to her plate of vegetarian-friendly sweet and sour tofu.
At that moment, I hated being a vegetarian. I was already the weird Asian kid, with the East Indian baby brother, and the park ranger dad in a wheelchair, living in a logging town. Could we be more of a target?!
It took me a long time to appreciate moments like this, for which there were many in my youth. But as I aged and became a parent myself, I came to admire their ability to stand firm in their beliefs.
“All of us know, not what is expedient, not what is going to make us popular, not what the policy is, or the company policy – but in truth, each of us knows what is the right thing to do. And that’s how I am guided.”
— Maya Angelou
Their determination to “do good” was not thwarted by delicious-tasting duck sauce or tossed aside in the face of prejudice aimed at our family. They didn’t subscribe to fair-weather values. The difficulty of the path was secondary to their commitment to doing good.
Now when I’m tempted to adopt fair-weather manifestations of my beliefs, I try to remind myself of my mom and dad. Their decisions may have seemed arbitrary or aggravating as a child, but now I can see them with more nuance and clarity.
Every decision we make in life creates a ripple effect. Some ripples are more significant than others, but the critical thing to consider is the why. Instead of impulsively reacting, or adopting a passing fad, think about what guiding principles you are acting upon. Make choices deliberately. This is what my parents showed me.
They taught me that a small sacrifice, like abstaining from delicious duck gravy, was one way to show compassion for sentient beings. They showed me the impact a decision can make when they adopted my brother and me because they wanted their parenthood to be of service to children in need.
Their lives were lived in an effort to make the world a little bit better while they were here, even when their decisions didn’t have comfortable outcomes.
“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”
— Aesop
Not all of our decisions seem to carry such weight. The snack aisle in the grocery store comes to mind. But it’s still worth considering how those choices impact our lives and the lives of others.
Because even in the grocery aisle, staring up at the dozens of cracker choices at my finger tips, I can consider who the people were behind those packages – who grew the food, processed it, packaged it, and delivered it so that I could stand in the grocery aisle and act on my personal preferences.
The impact of our actions, even the small ones, is more significant than we realize. In acknowledging this, we can take up some of the responsibility my parents felt and leave this world a little better than we found it.
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