Tools for Living

[Guest guest]

By Vince Basehart

The Lens sets out to buy a roll of duct tape.

At Busy Bee Hardware, the venerable shop that has been keeping Santa Monicans in nuts and bolts for as long as anyone can remember, next to a display case filled with pocket knives, just above cans of WD-40, he discovers a comprehensive library on raw food veganism.

Raw food veganism is the hardcore version of vegetarianism. Nothing cooked. Zero animal products. All fruits and vegetables are eaten for the most part the way they are found in nature. And forget about caffeine, alcohol, sugar, salt and a few other things the Lens considers the foundation of a civilized life.

Finding books titled "Raw Food Life Force Energy" and "Eating Without Heating" at a place that sells spackle and nails, is as incongruous as finding lingerie for sale at Pep Boys.

I ask Frank, a muscular man working the checkout counter, what gives. He refers me to the owner of the place, Don Kidson.

Put away the stereotypes of wan, dried-out vegetarians. At 75, Kidson is vital. His teeth are perfect. His eyes – which require no corrective lenses of any kind – are bright and the color of blue jeans. He is of medium height, slim, fit, with a full head of white hair pulled into a neat ponytail. His trim white beard resides beneath cheekbones any supermodel would envy. He moves with a grace that suggests he knows nothing of arthritis.

I shake Kidson’s hand and when he begins to explain why he, a hardware retailer since 1963, keeps books about health and raw foods on his shelf, I feel, well, something meaningful happening.

Like veganism, which is as much of a lifestyle as a diet, there is a lot more to Kidson than physical health. He seems to vibrate with inner peace.

Over the buzz of keys being made, Kidson explains a few things.

"The only real wealth is health." He learned this when his wife died of cancer more than twenty years ago. Before she passed, in desperation, Don prayed and read the book "Fit for Life," among the first raw food diet books to go mainstream. It was too late for his wife, but it changed his whole way of living.

Our modern Western diet is killing us and making us miserable in the mean time, he explains. He talks about detoxifying our bodies, how our bodies are perfect machines if only we’d let them operate the way they were meant to. Going vegan is the way to transform ourselves into the vibrant, healthy, loving and spiritually aware beings we’re supposed to be.

As Kidson talks, the Lens becomes aware that he is a putrid, meat-eating, alcohol-swilling, sugar-noshing, cigar-chomping skinful of poison headed for an early grave. And a mean spirited, low-vibrating one too.

"Eating animals makes you act like an animal. When you get off of meat and other animal products, suddenly you find that you don't think ugly thoughts. And you find yourself in touch with your intuition."

I find myself asking questions of this wise man. Hopeful questions.

“How long does it take you to fully detox?” I ask.

"You never fully do," he answers. He talks about putting a drop of ink in a glass of water. "You could keep pouring water in there forever, but it will forever be tainted."

“Can you go vegan, you know, in gradual steps?”

He nods affirmatively but his smile lets me know one should just jump right in.

Kidson is known locally as an educator. Wherever he goes in the city, he tells me, he is greeted by a half dozen people who thank him for the knowledge about raw foods and health he has shared, the lives he's changed. Many of the thankful include former cancer patients, people at death's door until they got the message.

Speaking of the body’s amazing healing properties Kidson says, “You come to realize how loved we are by Creation.” The Lens sets out to the hardware store for a roll of duct tape. He walks out with a book on veganism and the words of a wise man running through his head.

Peter H

 

For ideas on reducing your carbon footprint visit For Good this month.