There’s no accounting for taste.
By Sue Langenberg

I am reminded of that every time I discuss anything in life about who likes whom and what does or does not strike their fancy.
It’s always been that way. My mother’s favorite color in the world was Navy blue. I had an immediate distaste for it, and not because I was a born rebel or anything, (well, not totally) just that Navy blue happens to make me look embalmed. If I put red or purple in front of me at the store, I’m fine. I feel good and feel like myself. If I put Navy blue there, the morticians show up and cart me away.
It goes on. When males and females hook up in that lovey-dovey era of life, I was most discerning and couldn’t understand why anyone would go for someone that I thought repulsive. Or the crushes and starry-eyes about someone who I thought looked creepy. A friend and I sat by the window in a restaurant watching a university world go by. I was immediately drawn to a feisty looking character with wild hair and square shoulders. She looked up, “You mean the one who is talking to himself?” I guess she wasn’t drawn to him.
About food, it’s a good thing that this planet still has an enormous variety to offer. I remember an appalling dinner item when I was young called Swiss steak. I’m sure that there are those out there that treasure it to this day, but beating something to death after it’s already dead did nothing for me. Yet there are those who wouldn’t be caught likewise dead eating anything green or leafy, a wonderful meal to me.
About liver, I cannot be in the same room with it. It’s simply a flat statement.
The animal kingdom with all the predators eating each other and fearing each other’s taste is even more compelling. The robin that bob-bob-bobs along looking for a nice fat worm. But there’s the crow nearby hoping that the bob-bob-bobbing along robin is distracted so that it can devour the eggs or babies from the nest. And they all know instinctively that a bird bath in the open is safer from predators than one near a scary bush or tree.
Most cats seem to be born with an appetite for birds. My strictly indoor cat looks out the window in lust like we would salivate about chocolate cake with wings flying past. Yet a nice juicy mouse will do in a pinch, I guess that would serve as dessert, also, though my imagery falls short due to a gag reflex.
There was a marvelous online video of a cat and an owl recently. By all odds, both were pitted to view each other as dessert. After the cat proved it could fly and the owl proved that it could taunt and tease, they both discovered that maybe they didn’t want to eat each other after all and just play. Even during their frolic, it was still interesting to note that they seemed confused about their own behavior, like maybe food was less important than fun.
Animal shows gather footage about huge things eating huge things in Africa. A zebra can be devoured whole by an enterprising alligator whose choppers and stomach gravel are designed for digesting large lunches. And the big cats look for anything smaller. The elastic body of a snake accommodates frogs with ease. It’s all a matter of personal taste.
So when I set about to chop something for dinner, I am thankful that I don’t have to look for a live worm, commuting zebra or innocent nestling. And chocolate cake doesn’t have wings.