two chicken-fried steaks with gravy and sliced onions; a triple-patty bacon cheeseburger; a cheese omelet with ground beef, tomatoes, onions, bell peppers and jalapeños; a bowl of fried okra with ketchup; one pound of barbecued meat with half a loaf of white bread; three fajitas; a meat-lover’s pizza; one pint of Blue Bell Ice Cream; a slab of peanut-butter fudge with crushed peanuts; and three root beers.
Texas kills more prisoners than any other state, and likely any other democratic entity. Yet the state has decided to halt the long-time tradition of the last meal.
The decision wasn't made after deliberate thought, but on the actions of one state senator. Given the quick rush to judgment that dominates the death penalty cases in the Lone Star State, a quick action to ditch the last meals fits in well.
Lawrence Russell Brewer was executed last week on Wednesday for the hate crime slaying of James Byrd Jr. Brewer's request wasn't so unusual, but according to prison officials, Brewer didn't eat any of his last meal. Brewer's last meal request? See above.
The last meal isn't without limits. Texas had required that the meal come from its own kitchen sources. Florida sets a limit at $40. So whatever you think of the death penalty, the idea of a last meal is a small gesture of good faith that will now be missing from the Texas death penalty hard-chugging train. The tradition does go back to ancient times, so even with reasonable limits, the spirit of a last meal should remain strong.
The spirit of the last meal doesn't have to be limited to death-penalty cases. Use it as a celebration of food if you have been on your best behavior. Or if you've been bad and you want one last blast before doing better.
Last meals are a creative exercise that gets you to really think about what you are eating, which helps you when you are trying to be good, too.
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