Imagine the pain testicular cancer brings. I'm not talking aboutthe physical pain. I'm talking about the emotional pain: the terrorand obscurity of physically losing something that ispsychologically tied to your personal identity.
Your genitalia define you.
Though not in the most-literal sense, I now feel this pain. Lastweek I made a horrendous decision -- choice was forced upon me. Itwas as though a boulder had pinned my arm, leaving me no choice butto sever it.
I stopped eating beef.
No more double-decker tacos from Taco Bell. No more meat sauceon pasta. No more steak.
You disabled vegetarian veterans probably scoff at my wound.You'll rattle off statistics about the health benefits of eatingonly the green, leafy stuff that rabbits pee on. You'll tell methat I will be happier and full of energy. You will tell me thatparting from delectable cow's flesh will make me a betterperson.
I tell you that you do not understand.
Beef is Puerto Vallarta. Beef is Labor Day. Beef is dinner athome with dad. Beef is love.
Beef is patient; beef is kind. It does not envy; it does notboast; it is not proud. Beef does not delight in evil but rejoicesin truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes andalways perseveres -- unless it is in my belly.
Beef now makes me sick. It has turned its back and left me. Nolonger may I taste the sweet, succulent flesh of those quadrupedsthat moo, lest I become nauseous and ill with the upstream watersof the body.
It all started in high school. I was a boastful, young lad whofrequented the local Rally's. One day I bit off more than I couldchew. I ate two Big Buffords in one sitting.
I could never eat too much beef after that. Slowly, over time,my tolerance waned. Now, it has become too much.
What kind of man am I? How will I ever one day raise a family ifI can't even swallow a hamburger? Not only have I lost a piece ofme, I have lost an essential connection to my American heritage.What have I left but television and gasoline?
I still have my pork to comfort me. Instead of ground beef, Ican use ground turkey, and there is a wide variety of chickendishes available at my disposal. I still grill a mean salmon.
But how much longer will they stay? How can I be sure my stomachwon't next turn its back on the meat of a pig or the muscle of aplump chicken? God forbid He rescinds my rights to turkey.
If I have to forgo turkey on Thanksgiving, I'm asking forcyanide for Christmas.
Beef isn't just "what's for dinner." It is a part of my essence.When I eat beef I am one of the 99 billion served. Now I am anoutsider, apart from the body politic.
I say this to you: Love your beef; treasure it. Hold onto it,and never let it go. You never realize what you have until you'velost it.
Write to "Mouse" at bbmcshane@bsu.edu
visit www.classicalgeektheatre.com
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