When I was 9 or 10, I used to feel sorry for bus transfers and candy-wrappers. I felt it was wrong to throw them in the garbage as if — as if they were just objects. So my mother kept a drawer in her office in which I could put them. They grew for several years, until I realized what I had really been feeling. I became a vegetarian when I turned 17, and told my mother she could empty that drawer now. But it was only in 2012, when I was 67, that I became a vegan and realized what I should be doing — and what I should really have been doing, all along.