“Okay, everyone. Now we’re going to head to our outdoor activity!”
The petite, spry woman leading my week-long Humane Education Masters residency program popped up from her crosslegged position on the floor and led a dozen of us to her picturesque coastal Maine backyard.
It was day two of five and we had just finished another vegan lunch, 8-minute Tabata exercise, and circle sharing.
I glanced to my left, where our cohort’s lone male sat.
Tom was tall, strapping, in his mid-30s, and looked like he’d never gone a day without a kiss on the cheek and a homemade oatmeal-raisin cookie. He headed outside with the rest of us, where we received the following instructions:
“You’re going to pick a partner, and one of you will close your eyes and be led around the garden by your partner. If your partner wants you to smell something, she’ll tap your nose. See something, your eyes. Taste something, your mouth. You’ll take ten minutes, then when you hear the sound of the gong, switch places with your parner.”
As I slowly died on the inside, I snuck a look at Tom. His face was unreadable.
“Okay, pick a partner!”
I lost sight of Tom and paired up with a new friend. When it was my turn to lead, I spied him. His eyes were closed as he dutifully allowed a classmate to lead him towards a small pond. I could only imagine what was going through his mind.
I’d tell you more about the next twenty minutes, but I’ve spent the past month trying to block them out.
So what on earth was this male, meat-loving, midwestern Lutherian doing in northern Maine with a bunch of vegan hippies?
Tom was the new assistant dean of the university issuing our Masters degrees, and was in charge of liasing with the online programs.
The next day, three of us were paired with Tom to construct artwork with only what we found in nature. I created a kangaroo pouch out of my t-shirt and set off to scavenge. When I returned fifteen minutes later with my treasures, Tom had already begun pinning branches and leaves to a clothesline.
“Can I borrow one of those acorns?” he asked.
“Sure – take as many as you want!” I replied, and watched as he filled a magazine page-turned-pouch and tied it to the clothesline with a long piece of grass.
As our masterpiece came together, I declared, “We should call this Nature on the Line.”
He nodded approvingly while I attempted to affix two small pinecones to either side of a large one.
“This looks so wrong,” I laughed, holding it up. One of the smaller cones kept falling off. “Now it’s Lance Armstrong.”
My classmate and I erupted into giggles while Tom chuckled and shook his head. I suddenly realized his presence was the perfect talisman for not only our humane education pursuits, but the political climate everywhere:
When have you felt completely out of place?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Go Jules Go 
I never, ever feel out of place because I’m always in the bathroom.
I thought you might be interested in this link for next time you head north: http://mainetoday.com/pets/dogs-pets/dine-dog-greater-portland/
Ha! Uncle Jesse said thank you, and that he rarely feels out of place because “all of the outside is my bathroom.” (He was very reassuring during the whole peeing-on-the-side-of-the-cottage thing.)
I feel somewhat that way myself!
Great wind up sentence. Amen!
Apropos of nothing, I was interested in the lunch menu. I’ve read about jack-fruit as a substitute in a pulled pork sandwich and I want your honest opinion as a former meat -eater: should I, a not-interested-in-being-vegan-but-willing-to-try-being-more-healthy-an, give it a try?
Poor poor pinecone-less Lance Armstrong!
I was also wondering about the BBQ pulled jack-fruit…??? First question: what in the fracking hell is it?
Also, when are you coming back here again? Hmm??
I read about it in an article and it said the texture of jackfruit, with barbecue sauce, really is like pulled pork. I don’t necessarily believe it and don’t want to commit to all that cooking without independent verification.
It’s pretty wild!! I’ve only made it myself once, with canned jackfruit from Trader Joe’s and jarred BBQ sauce (doctored up with peppers, onions, and garlic). It was a little like artichoke hearts in appearance – the ‘hearts’ don’t shred like pulled pork, but the rest does, and takes on the flavor of whatever sauce you use! Some recipes say you should shred and bake it before putting the sauce on; I just simmered it for ages (an hour?) in the sauce. It has no fat and almost zero calories, which is the perfect excuse to load up the toppings! Going to see if it lets me post photos – I’m rusty with this!
You’re all nutty. All the nature on the line was feeling out of place. If only they could talk/write.
Ha! The banana peel was very upsetting to everyone; I wonder what it would have had to say…
Well, I imagine it making reference to the old movie, Beverly Hills cop, and in it’s best Eddy Murphy voice, “You’re not going to stick me in a tail pipe, are you?”
Your imaginary banana talk is so much better than mine, which didn’t make it beyond, “If you don’t take me down soon, I’m gonna banana split.”
I used to nearly always feel out of place. Recently, I have realized that so many people feel this way that I am not out of place at all, just unwilling to show it. So, now, I show what I feel and how I feel it whenever I can. I may get in trouble or made fun of, but hey, it’s just life…