The cafeteria was crowded, and I searched for a table that would accommodate me, my tray, and my notebook. I hoped that the comfortable din of the large white-painted room would fuel my thoughts. I had been searching for ideas to use in my essay on vegetarianism for a few days, but I hadn't found anything. All of the tables were filled, and I stood beside one occupied by a young woman, a few years older than I, who was nibbling on a salad. Her brown hair was pulled atop her head in an old-fashioned chignon that complimented, rather than contrasted her torn jeans and violet argyle sweater. Her ears were each dotted with several red jewels and her hazel eyes were intent and framed by dark lashes. I smiled tentatively, and she returned my gesture with warmth. "May I sit here?" I asked her.

"Sure," she answered quickly, rearranging her satchel and books to allow room for me. "I should be leaving in a few minutes anyway."

"Oh, don't rush," I replied.

"Are you a student here at the college?" she inquired.

"Oh, no, I'm still in high school. I just came here today to look around and get some information about the school."

She nodded, and I caught her eyes skimming over my lunch of a hamburger and French fries. I glanced at her salad, and the question arose from me almost of its own accord: "Are you a vegetarian?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I am," she answered. I didn't want to appear impolite, but I was itching to reach for my notebook. I sensed that a conversation with her might be just what my essay needed.

"I'm writing for an essay on vegetarianism. Do you think I could ask you a few questions?" I grasped my notebook smoothly and drew a pen from my pocket.

"Well, sure," she answered, surprised, and to my relief, not at all irritated.

I cleared my throat, and tossed my hair, attempting to adopt an air of professionalism. Still, there was only one question I could think of to ask, so I did. "What made you decide to become a vegetarian?"

She stared into the crowd as if it composed one large face impatient to hear her answer. Once focused, she set down her fork and spoke. "Well, when I first stopped eating meat, it was because it was the trendy thing to do. My friends and I all tried it. It was sort of an 'earthy' way to take meals, or a fad, just like coffeehouses or internet cafes. In a week or so, the novelty passed, and most of them went back to their fried chicken and meatloaf. But I found something, or, should I say, someone, that kept me inspired: Linda McCartney."

I had personally been disheartened by Linda McCartney's untimely death, and I opened my mouth to say so. Before I could utter a word, though my new friend continued.

"When I began to read up on Linda, I grasped an opportunity to examine a 'genuine' vegetarian's lifestyle and her reasons for adhering so faithfully to her cause. One afternoon she and her husband Paul were watching their sheep in the meadow, and then they sat down to a lunch of lamb. Right then and there, they both made a pledge to 'go veggie' at a time when it was relatively unheard of except for religious or cultural reasons. The two of them became vegetarians because of a kindness and love towards animals and a desire to stop living a hypocritical life. All I could conjure in my mind at that time was eating a chicken sandwich and then going home and watching the birds that nested in our pine trees. I realized what the McCartneys had felt, and in turn, vowed to do what they had done."

I nodded, truly intrigued by her words. By the time she had finished, I had thought of another question to ask: "What about the health factors of vegetarianism? Do you really get all the nutrients you need?"

"Of course. Being vegetarian is not being limited to a plate of lettuce for every meal. I still eat products derived from animals, like milk, eggs, and yogurt, and beans and peanuts provide just as much protein as meat. And you can't forget about soups, sandwiches, and pastas. Another thing I admired about Linda McCartney is that she made the endless possibilities of meatless meals known. She had her own cookbooks and a line of frozen vegetarian dinners. She spoke out on her cause and did everything in her power to dispel the silly myths about vegetarianism."

I was engrossed as I watched her fervent eyes glow with the passion of her cause. My lunch had grown cold, but I couldn't consider eating it now. I noticed the minute hand of my watch creeping, and realizing that the next class would be meeting soon, I knew my source would have to go.

She recognized it too, and habitually pushed her books together as her monologue came to a close.

"Linda was a pioneer to a cause that was unheard of by the majority of people at that time. Since then, though, millions have walked the trail she blazed, and made their way through the jungle of ignorance and conformity. Perhaps they decided to abstain from eating meat, poultry and fish for health reasons, environmental concerns, or maybe just to emulate Linda and her husband. Still, the reason they chose to 'go veggie' is insignificant; what matters is that they had the want to change and the willpower to comply with their choice. I don't know if I've persuaded you now, but maybe you'll consider going veggie in the near future. Do it for your health, your pet, or as a tribute to Linda and her work to better our environment. Try to take the initiative. Each time you slice a carrot instead of a steak, you just may save a life."

I thanked my new acquaintance as she stood to leave. Sitting down, I stared at my untouched lunch and shook my head. The food that had littered my tray hit the bottom of the garbage can with a reassuring plop as I made my exit.

When first entering the cafeteria, I hadn't noticed the thick row of trees that parelleled the walkway. Now, I couldn't help but wonder if sunshine amply penetrated their leafy boughs. But the road that they framed was bathed in the light of the afternoon, and it glinted and beckoned me forward. I almost stepped onto the foot-trodden avenue, but changed my mind and decided to take the long way, through the trees, back to my car. The grass teased my sandaled feet, and I approached the trees, walking with a purpose. Their feathery canopy was thinner than I had first expected.

No, my small forest was not quite Linda's "jungle of conformity." Nevertheless, I had my own path to clear.