Today I read a friend's Facebook post about laughing with her family at the dinner table. It triggered a whole slew of memories.
Dinner at the dinner table was an every-night event when I was growing up. If you were on the property at supper time, you ate with the family.
We did not watch TV. We did not have our cell phones. (ok, true confessions- there were no cells phones. BUT I am 376% sure that would be the rule, had my mom lived to the age of cell phones)
Mom grew up in a German family, so we had meat, potatoes (referred to as a "starch"), and a hot vegetable. At every meal. (well, nearly every) Bread and butter if you didn't want what was served, or if you were still hungry. Dessert was usually fruit. Oh man, home-canned peaches and plums. My favorite. My mouth is watering...
ANyway, the point of this blog isn't food, yummy though it was (the college cafeteria was a harsh reality check). It's about family. Living with people. I miss living with people. It's messy- don't get me wrong. But it's rich.
It's having Your Seat. And relishing the week that your chore was setting the table- CLEARLY the best of the three (clearing and washing both being more work). It's talking about your day, even through the years when the conversation goes a lot like this:
Dad: How was school?
Kid: Fine.
Dad: Anything exciting happen?
Kid: No.
Every. Single. Night.
(sorry, Dad)
It's about those nights when you have real conversations where minds are expanded and values are shaped. And the nights when you laugh until you can't breathe and milk shoots out your little brother's nose. And some nights when absolutely nothing of interest occurs. A thousand meals. A million conversations.
There are stats that show that kids who eat meals at the table with their family succeed more that those who don't. This probably surprises no one who ate meals at the table with their family growing up. Dinner with the family isn't just sharing food or space or conversation.
It's sharing life.
