The
following is a true story. Names have not been changed to protect the
innocent.
On a picnic one fine day several years
ago, my son Alec and I were lunching with my friend MaryHelen and her
twin boys, James and Noah, also my son’s age. Approximate age of
these boys at the time is right around four years old.
My son was busy munching his Happy Meal and took a
moment out from ingestion of grease and preservatives to inquire if the
liquid in the wax carton was cow's milk or goat's milk. I told him
it was cow's milk and he accepted that without comment.
My friend’s boys however, were suddenly very quiet
and eyeing their wax cartons with grave suspicion.
“What do you mean, what KIND of milk???” they
asked Alec.
Alec cheerfully explained. “The milk at
our house is goat's milk. Every morning my mom goes out and
feeds the goats. Then she gets down on the ground next to them and
milks them like this (insert visual of young boy doing realistic
rendering of milking a goat). She brings it into the house,
strains it and puts it in the fridge for us to drink.”
After a stony silence, James announced, “Well, our
milk comes from the STORE”.
Alec allowed that most people do not have goats in
their yard and, that for the unfortunate masses, store-bought cow's milk
is the only sad alternative for a calcium-laden drink. James and
Noah were still not happy, saying that THEIR milk does NOT
come from COWS, it comes from the STORE.
In the manner of most pre-school and congressional
discussions, this rapidly escalated to fisticuff status.
Now, MaryHelen is a veterinarian and
these boys are exposed to many animals, both in and out of nature, all
the time. The Circle of Life is not a stranger to them. Or so she
thought…
At James’s pronouncement, followed by the
zealous statement of belief, and the impending physical assault, MaryHelen
was alarmed, and rose to the occasion with alacrity.
“WAIT - you are ALL right!” she hollered,
the scruff of one boy in each hand, while I also held my combatant at
bay. She then detailed how the cow's milk that is usually in their sippy-cups
goes from the cow, to the automatic milking machine, into a truck with a
lot of other cows’ milk from a lot of other farms, to the factory to be
cleaned up, sterilized, and cartoned, ready to be delivered to their
local store. That’s the point where they become personally involved with
said milk. From cows. And that Alec spoke truth when he told
them where his milk comes from.
Once the light of righteous indignation left the eyes
of the three boys, they were loosed to resume their meal in silence.
James and Noah would have nothing more to do with their milk.
I whispered to MaryHelen, “Just wait till
they learn that eggs come out of chickens’ butts - they’ll never eat
another egg.”
She blanched and looked a little faint.
Americans have always been farmers. Most of our
founding fathers had huge farms and spent at least as much time in the
fields and barns as thinking up Important Documents to sign. Then
something happened...
