Three decades have passed since I made the decision to abstain from meat during a Thanksgiving feast. Reflecting on that moment, I cringe at the self-righteous declaration I made at the table, which left my father shaking his head in disapproval as I toasted, "As George Bernard Shaw once said, 'Animals are my friends, and I don't eat my friends.'" My family, already aware of my college course on nonviolence, was not taken aback by my announcement.

However, my roommates bore the brunt of my newfound moral fervor. I would interrogate my friends, "Do you know the suffering that cow endured before it became your burger?" My confrontational approach did little to sway opinions, and they pointed out the irony of my sudden change, given my carnivorous habits just the day before. Today, I remain a vegetarian, but my journey has led to unexpected insights about myself, others, and our world.

Initially, I took a certain pride in challenging others' dietary choices, which I found annoyingly satisfying. I wrote in my college newspaper column, "Aside from the mass slaughter of countless innocent birds, it's a delightful holiday," marking my first Thanksgiving as a vegetarian. Over time, I realized that confrontation is an ineffective way to change minds. I transitioned from being a provocateur to avoiding the topic, especially during meals. Now, I'm more likely to say, "Vegetarianism is a poor dinner conversation topic with non-vegetarians," when the subject arises. After all these years, I haven't converted a single person to forgo meat, and that's acceptable. I follow this path for my own reasons, but I remain open to discussing it cautiously with those genuinely curious.

No one holds the moral high ground in ethical eating, perhaps with the exception of the Jains, who practice a religion of nonviolence so profound that they wear masks to prevent the accidental ingestion of insects. As soon as I boasted about not contributing to animal slaughter, vegans questioned my awareness of dairy and egg farming practices. Compared to vegans, fruitarians, who consume only fruit and avoid killing plants, seem extreme. It's worth noting that fruitarianism is generally deemed nutritionally unsustainable.

Then there's the issue of affordability; can we who have ample food judge those struggling with food insecurity? The reality is that most of us decide how much animal and animal-derived products to consume for various reasons, including environmental, health, ethical, cost, availability, or personal taste. Reducing meat and animal product consumption generally leads to less animal suffering and a lighter environmental footprint, which may also benefit personal health. These are facts, but where to draw the line is a personal decision.

When I first became vegetarian, I fancied myself a meatless martyr, yet my diet mostly consisted of pizza, fries, and beer. Over the past three decades, vegetarian options in restaurants have expanded, as has my palate. Even extensive international travel posed no significant challenge, with the minor exception of Mongolia. I now appreciate the variety of meat substitutes and non-dairy milks available.

I'm still awaiting a vegetarian equivalent for crab cakes, a delicacy from my Maryland upbringing. However, I no longer miss hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken nuggets, and meatballs, as most grocery stores now offer numerous options that closely mimic the taste and texture of the real thing. When I crave meat, I have many alternatives that satisfy my hunger without causing harm to animals.

Before my marriage, my in-laws found my meat-free diet peculiar. Now, they primarily follow a vegetarian diet themselves (though they still find me odd for other reasons). This trend is one I frequently encounter when I don't impose my dietary choices on others. I often hear, "I eat very little meat," after disclosing my vegetarianism. This is not mere propaganda; research supports my stance.

As awareness grows and delicious alternatives become more accessible, people are more inclined to make changes themselves. Even partial conversions benefit our hearts, the planet, and its non-human inhabitants. As someone who embraced vegetarianism 30 years ago, I welcome everyone to the right side of history, regardless of where you draw your line. The turkeys are grateful as well.