Dead Meat

Does anyone else remember the expression, “You are dead meat!” I remember saying this, probably back in elementary school and most likely to one of my little brothers. I don’t think I ever thought about what a horrible thing it was to say. I must not have been a very thoughtful child. Or perhaps I forget my own thoughtfulness.

Luke, though, certainly understands the ramifications of such a statement, for dead meat has been one of his moral conundrums since he was a wee little guy. At age two, Luke became a vegetarian. I don’t now remember how the conversation came about, but the inevitable day came when Luke asked about meat, and learned that “beef” was really a sneaky way of saying “cow,” and so on and so forth. I suspect that most children do not have this conversation with their parents at age two. Henry, meat lover that he is, has never thought to ask where it comes from. But while Henry is physically precocious, Luke is—hmm, how shall I characterize this particular trait?—philosophically precocious.

So, after learning about the origins of meat at age two, Luke became a vegetarian. Granted, he didn’t eat a lot of meat to begin with. He liked hot dogs at the time, though. Craig told me I should just go ahead and let Luke eat hot dogs, that Luke wouldn’t know the difference. That seemed mean to me, though, and so when Luke would ask to buy hot dogs at the store, I would tell him what they contained and ask if he would prefer the ones made of soybeans, which he did. We never really found a brand of soy dogs that we liked, but we both agreed that Trader Joe’s soy corndogs were pretty tasty.

Complicating Luke’s understanding of meat is the fact that we are from Alaska, where many people hunt and fish. His grandpa and his daddy do. I have never personally shot an animal, but I have butchered a moose. I tell Luke that daddy and grandpa only shoot animals they want to eat, and that they feel thankful that the animal gave its life so that we could eat.

Lately, Luke has been more concerned about appearing “cool” to his peers, and more preoccupied with things that I believe he is learning from his classmates. Lately, he has wanted to “play sports.” He asked me to buy him a soccer shirt, and he is now enrolled in a basketball class at our local community center. A few days ago, when one of his friends was over at our house, we were talking about favorite foods. I mentioned something about Luke not eating meat.

“I eat meat,” said Luke. “Tons of meat.”

I can only now think that Luke was trying to seem cool, but I didn’t pick up on this at the time.

“No you don’t, Luke. You only eat beans and nuts and cheese,” I said.

“Mom, I eat tons of meat in my room!” Luke said emphatically.

“Oh. What sorts?” I asked.

“I eat cow and pig and moose and caribou,” he said.

But I can’t think that Luke’s perception of meat has really changed all that much. Yesterday morning, he illustrated and dictated the words for a new page in the Star Wars Book he was writing:

Inside Jaba the Hut’s palace, the unlucky droids saw the slug-like creature, Jaba. “Greetings,” he said in a heavy voice. His minions danced for him while he ate dead meat.