The Dinning Room Table …
Our place to eat, share, rest and bond …
Empty nesting has often relegated that venerated spot to a catch all for bills, paperwork, coats etc. etc. … more’s the pity
Way back in December of 1992, two kids named Brent and Kim; with their two kids to be joined by a third two years later, signed the documents to purchase their first house for the “outrageous”price of $55,700. One was an underpaid teacher ($16,700 a year) and the other a young R.N., so, a spacious mansion was out of the question. They had looked at bigger houses, houses a bit more stylish, others way out in the solitude of the country. This house was quaint, near a pasture and some woods and three modest bedrooms… it had a fireplace like several others they had looked at; the kitchen was a little small; so what made this stand out for the two kids who had examined about 22 homes over six months?
As they wandered through the house, the little wife let out a gasp of excitement when they entered the formal dining room. That’s what the wife said as she turned to her husband and called the modest room, “a formal dining room.” As her eyes lit up, she began imagining family dinners, holiday celebrations, homework worked on at the table in the room that would resemble something somewhat… sacred? The room became just that; … I sat at the head of the table in the chair that had arm rests, my oldest sat on the other side of the table, to him signifying “the other head of the table,” Kim sat to my left so that she could serve everyone their plates, and Brendan sat to my right in a high chair and later at his own spot with the high chair going to baby Erik. My dog Digger sat at my feet and over the next 30 years so would Summer, Gussie, Ginger, Sparky, Lil Bit and The Chunk. It was where the Rich family shared their evening meal, the TV out of view, and they grew, fussed, ate, talked, argued, cried and established bonds that would never be broken.
Twenty nine years have passed, they have the same table (though various dogs have chewed the legs), the same buffet cabinet, the same wind up clock, but sadly a layer of dust and “junk” visits the table more often than the occupants of the house. The three sons have all grown and moved on to lives of their own making. More often than not, the two kids, who have attained a vigorous middle age, share their meals at the dinette just off the kitchen or on the couch feeding the also aged dogs small bits of table food. The conversations are still happy with some fussing, arguing, crying and bonds being strengthened and not to broken.
There are “facts” I’ve always shared with my students to guard them against the furious, fast paced life that too many of us in America rush through: the average American family spends twenty minutes at “the table,” the average teenager spends 15 minutes or less a week talking with their parents, the table often offers meals that are prepared in less than thirty minutes or to some form of take out; more than 3/4ths of the time the whole family is not together to share the semblance of a meal. I came from a contentious family that ended in divorce, Kim also was raised in a family that suffered some forms of dysfunction…. as sadly most families in this country do … it was the bright eyed hope of our young family that we would create something akin to the Beaver Cleaver family or the Cunningham’s from “Happy Days” at dinner time… and you know what; we did. With rare exception, when we ate at the baseball park or went out to eat, we had our meals together in the evening. On Saturday and Sunday morning, I worked my culinary magic preparing breakfast and yes, I made them get up on the weekends for family breakfast. On Sunday after church, Kim prepared a special lunch. We made mistakes raising our family though with the best of intentions, but you live and learn and go forward. We strongly clung on to the belief that if we held firm to making that time together sacrosanct, that we could overcome our shortfalls. We are confident that it was a salve to some of our struggles.
We overlook so many simple things in this country. As we’ve gotten older, we’ve traveled a great deal, to Mexico, Canada, Ireland, France, England, Scotland, Spain, Italy, Wales and others on the horizon. In all of those old world places, they seemed to be willing to forgo the trappings of materialism and the hectic pace of “success.” In Italy and France and the other European countries, of the aforementioned old world, they devote an average of two hours for their evening meal, enjoying all the laughter and sharing and savoring and talking that a family should do so much more often. In Mexico and the other Latin based nations, dinner starts late into the evening to make certain that the food is truly prepared with love and the last thing the family will share together before going to sleep will be …. fellowship. In Ireland, Scotland and England, Sunday is a revered time and real football… not American football, is put aside until the pot roast or Yorkshire pudding or lamb is shared and enjoyed. The food, though wonderful, is not the point… the point is time we’ll spent, traditions honored, letting your loved ones know their value.
Transition, transition, transition… this teacher is making them as best he can and is learning quite a bit… extra time will give you that. I’ve learned from mistakes, taken pride in accomplishment, tried to avoid feeling regret or looking back at the past; but one thing I know we did right… is gone. Oh certainly, we enjoy getting together with our sons at their homes and are proud that they are carrying on the tradition we gave them with their families. Yes, Kim and I have created our own special time talking over dinner and it’s preparation with a glass or two of wine; enjoying Kim’s new culinary explorations (she’s become quite the gourmand) and we enjoy a slower, more quiet time with the dogs at dinner. Sometimes, honestly a lot of times, I yearn to look across the table and see Joshua’s elbows on the table, Brendan breathing like eating was a race on who could consume the most, Erik looking up to his big brothers…. and to my left, the founder of whatever feast we were sharing, my wife Kim as we looked at what we were establishing and looking at each other knowing we were getting this part right. Take the time my friends… take time …
