The Dinner Table

What has happened to the family dinner table? Is it there somewhere in the dining room, feeling lonely and neglected? In my opinion, it should be the focal point of togetherness.

I’m privileged to have my mother’s dining table. It is well over a hundred years old, rescued from obscurity when she saw it on someone’s front porch. She bought the table, re-finished it, and used it. That’s where she and Dad sat for three meals each day. That’s where my family and I sat when we visited them and that’s where Mom and Dad’s children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren sat when they came for the holidays. If a friend or visitor happened to be there when meal time arrived, of course they were invited to eat with them.

The time, at the end of a school day and work day when the family sits down to eat together, is a time to talk. Supper could be cornbread and milk, my mom’s favorite supper, or fast food, or something home-cooked, but what’s eaten isn’t nearly as important as the family being together, talking, listening, and caring. No arguments allowed at the dinner table. Nothing to make this an unpleasant experience.

On the farm, after evening chores of milking the cows, gathering eggs, and making sure the animals were comfortable, we’d sit down at the table for a home-cooked meal. I’ve carried on that tradition. I’m happy to say that my son, my daughter-in-law, my grandchildren, and many other family members and friends have gathered at Mom’s old table to eat with me. My son and his family still do. Mom and Dad aren’t here any more, but the tradition of eating together is.