Hypothetical Encounter With John Robbins

I sit patiently, waiting for him to arrive. The sun is bright; I shield my eyes as I look at the blue sky, then down again at the worn, outdoor table. I nervously shift in my chair, trying to remember the questions I had in mind to ask when I see him striding toward the table. His thinning hair is tousled by the breeze, but his gait is steady; although he is sixty years old, he displays a youthful energy as he reaches our meeting place, and his face creases with a smile as we make introductions.

I jump to my feet, eager to shake his hand. I notice his grip is strong, and his hands are both soft and healthy, as well as slightly calloused and weathered with age. Our order is taken, and I request only water, as I am uncomfortable making any of my usual food choices in the presence of one so diet and health oriented. The cold water is dull and fluorinated, obviously from a city tap, and we begin to discuss his views on health, diet, and the environment.

The conversation eases and I become less nervous as we become just two people discussing ideas, when we both notice a father with his young daughter at the ice cream shop across the street. We both notice the girl’s visible excitement as she receives her ice cream cone, no doubt a special treat for her. As she happily sits and enjoys her diary reward, I notice the discomfort on Robbins’ face.

I can see his pain, watching a father give his child something that represents, in Robbins’ opinion, a great danger to both her health and the environment. I see his desire to intervene, and try to inform the two of the dangers of such a habit. I watch him repress the desire, no doubt knowing from experience he would be entering into a rude and fruitless attempt at kindness that would be interpreted as a personal attack.

As we continue our conversation, I can hear the unease in his voice, noting the short, furtive glances across the street he attempts out of subtlety. I hear in his voice disappointment, a reluctant discipline to focus his mind on our conversation and not be distracted by such a potent example of what he is rallying against. As we make our goodbyes, I am struck by the compassion he still exhibits for the nameless little girl; his passion for spreading his message is curtailed by his common sense, and although he appears pleased with our interview, the scene we witnessed still seems to dwell on his mind as he makes his way quickly back through the crowd.