beans

that pot of beans.

is it ok if we put hot dogs in it?

ok, she says.

what could she say? it's not like she even has the money to buy her own dried beans or a place to cook them. so she thinks she will eat around the hot dogs and just eat the beans. for some reason she can't understand, they always take exception to her diet. it puzzles them. the story goes like this:


the little girl loves animals. they don't make her feel aberrant and inferior. they are beautiful and perfect when they are in the wild. she is beautiful and perfect when she runs with them alone in the woods. around people, especially in zoos, they become twisted and ugly inside. so now has she.


pass the roast beef. a slice of ham. they never told her what these things really were.

you mean i'm eating a cow!?

i don't like it. but i'm 6, so i can't really shop and cook for myself. this goes on for 9 more years, until two things happen in quick succession to turn things.


the fetal pig.

you will now learn intimately the internal anatomy of a pig.

they want me to cut this thing open and see its organs. i'm squeamish, but interested.


the smell of the formaldehyde is vile. on day three the smell has become unbearable, formaldehyde and decomposing pig. i take the strawberry perfume from my purse and sprinkle it on the pig. immediately i realize my mistake. now these three pungent odors battle it out, formaldehyde, rotting pig, and sickly sweet strawberry. i struggle through the rest of the class somehow not passing out, but coming close to it.


arriving home that evening, i find my mother well-pleased with herself, announcing the rare treat of baked ham for dinner. i spend that night in my room with no appetite.


one week later, at my grandmother's. i had just eaten some soup she fixed for me.


that was an odd clam chowder, i say.


it wasn't clam chowder.


what was it?


pepper pot.


those weren't clams?


no.


then what werethey?


it was tripe.


what's tripe? i ask hesitantly, sure i don't want the answer.


that was when i became a vegetarian. after throwing up for 20 minutes.

back to the red beans. when they were done, i went to fix a plate for myself. they cut the hot dogs (which should have been sausage, but hot dogs were cheaper) into pieces exactly the same size as the beans. a calculated move. i'd seen it before, but never with such an apparent desire to force me into eating meat. was that when i started eating meat again? it was then or soon after. i remember oyster po' boys from Streetcar Sandwiches. the sandwich shop near the end of the streetcar line in New Orleans.