Disappearing Dining Rooms

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I read an article this morning that stated dining rooms were disappearing from American households. I wonder what that might say about family life today or get-togethers with friends.

I grew up in the 50s. A few of my friends’ homes had dining rooms, and others’ homes, including ours, had kitchen tables where we would dine with our family. At the time, dining rooms were reserved for special meals, or the occasion when guests visited for dinner. We sat down together, every night for the family meal by a table. It didn’t matter what was going on, especially if you were a kid, you were to be home for dinner, which in those days the night meal was called supper in the Midwest.

Usually, when meals were served in dining rooms, the dining experience was reserved for the special China and the good silverware. We had certain manners we had to use. I always loved the dining room experience as it made it a special meal.

I must admit I didn’t read the entire article. It could have been that people are transitioning to the big room experience and table. I suspect if I would have read it more in-depth than just a skim, the main focus would have been on family either having a leisurely dinner hour, or the fact many families do not sit down together for a meal anymore because they are too busy. Kids and parents grab their plates and sit separately at a counter, or in front of the television, or with a book or phone in their hands, ignoring the other people in the room. In my youth I tried to read books at the table. I never wanted to put down my book, but reading at meals wasn’t allowed. The same as hats at the table were not allowed. Fast food pickup today is popular with the working moms and dads and kids. The family can eat on the run separately while on the way to the many activities.

If I travel back through time and look at my pictures of the past, the photos over the years depict my family dining experience with family and friends. It was the heart at the meal. Every birthday is captured around the table. Every anniversary, birthday celebration, and the night meal are around a table. That was our time, coming together over a meal at night. Granted my kids would complain, they didn’t always like the food. Brussel Sprouts were not their favorite. One evening we had company and the adults sat at the table with the kids sitting at their own table because of space. We learned we should never let the kids out of our sight when there was a questionable vegetable. I found out later that one of my children put their creamed rutabagas in a napkin and snuck it into my friend’s purse so it only appeared that he ate them. Yes, at our table the kids had to try everything and eat what we served. There were no separate meals for the kids. We had a good laugh at that one. When my friend informed me weeks later of the mischief, I was upset. She laughed and said that was why she didn’t tell me sooner. My friend thought it was funny. She was a teacher who apparently had a sense of humor. The memory of the meal together stayed with us for many years. Now I have no one but the culprits to share the memory with and they aren’t talking. My friend has passed on, but he friendship and memory of that night by a forgiving friend is priceless.

As a family at the table, we shared our day, our fun things and our sad experiences. We laughed, we fought, we complained, but we were together. My kids learned manners and how to use the right utensils in case they were at a fine dining establishment. It was a time that I fear is long gone. There is something to be said about sitting around a table and talking for hours. And… teaching kids they do need to learn to sit and listen to adults and have patience. Yes, it can be done. Manners at a table, I believe reach out to the world in better learned behavior. Have you been in any restaurants with kids these days? Behavior hasn’t changed but the response of the parents has. Eating together also was an opportunity to assess if our kids were doing okay. Yes, sometimes we missed it. But family meals result in many funny stories to our grandchildren.

A few years ago, I was a guest at my son’s home. My grandson requested noodles for dinner. He then said to me, “Grandma, do you know what dad told me? He said if he didn’t eat what you made, he had to go to bed and he didn’t get any supper, and everyone had to eat the same thing. I told him you wouldn’t do that.” I laughed and informed him that it was indeed true. I don’t know if that was a teaching moment in my grandson’s life or a realization that perhaps his grandma wasn’t who he thought she was.

I’ll confess, I no longer have a dining room or a kitchen table in my apartment. It is too tiny a space. I had a table and chairs for the last year, but having guests was too cramped with the table. Have I given up on the sitting around the table experience? No. I am translating the table to tv trays, sitting them in a circle in front of my living room furniture so guests can sit and still have a table and group experience.

There is a reason the television show, Blue Bloods, dining scene is popular. They represent the families of the past, sharing bread and sharing their life, once a week. The Reagan family slows down and takes the time to learn about each other’s up and downs of the week, building a bridge one conversation at a time. Maybe we all want to experience that connection again.

We need those bridges of conversation at a dinner table more today than possibly in the history of our country. Families are fractured. Friendships survive on meeting in between our busy activities. We have a hard time turning off our phones and stepping away from the noise. We have sacrificed time with those that mean the most to us, for living in a world that offers us glamour, stress, and builds in us an idea that for our kids being busy keeps them out of trouble. We spend more time online with strangers than we do with those who share our lives in the flesh. How’s that working for us? Build that bridge. Break that bread at the table with family and friends. That’s the spice of life. We will all leave this earth one day. What will our life and the way we spend our time tell others about what we value?

What If?

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My life has had many changes over the last year. If you would ask me I would say dramatically, but then I do add drama to things that maybe because of my reactive personality get blown out of proportion.

As my journey again changes I contemplate the word purpose. The last few years my purpose, whether I chose it or not was somewhat of a caretaker. It consumed my life, at least in my mind, and now I find myself a little lost.

The world has told us we need to have a purpose. Once I was told it was my purpose in life to bring my mother-in-law out of the nursing home into my home to take care of her. That one I knew was not my calling, though I did believe I needed to help to do everything to make her life better. I was able to discern what to choose for her and me as a good choice.

As I sit with my coffee and think about purpose and the future, I wonder what if … the way the world challenges people to have a purpose in life, perhaps makes finding our purpose more important than it should be. We tend to worry if we don’t see or feel we have one, which then causes us anxiety. The quest to find meaning, to make a difference, often causes anguish in someone’s life because we define the word as doing a great service that others recognize. It makes us feel less than because we don’t feel we measure up to the definition of others, and what the world expects. We see high profile people shouting out what their purpose is, and telling us we need to find ours. If we’re not doing that than we are failing.

What if…we defined our purpose as just being. Not doing anything earth shattering or great in the world’s and society’s eyes, but just breathing and living?

Immediately when a baby is born we put our hopes and dreams of their future upon them. Babies and children revel in just being. They are spontaneous with their laughter, their tears and their innocence until they get out into the world. They feel our stress. We pass that down to them. They grow and they learn from us. But at the beginning their purpose is just to be. To eat and sleep and laugh and cry, to be loved and to accept that love. Wouldn’t it be nice to feel that again?

We strive so hard to matter and to be remembered yet…if I think about those in my life that left their influence on me, it’s not the Robert Redford’s or the John F. Kennedy’s or anyone in the news. It’s the quiet ones. The people I am close to. Someone who has entered my life as a friend. It’s family members or those I’ve had contact with that live their lives being real and reaching out as a friend. They don’t hold high offices. They aren’t great speakers or writers. They haven’t won tons of awards or are famous. They are regular everyday people living their lives the best they know how, at work or at home and in the community.

Purpose. As I find my life changing again I am going to change what I believe about my purpose in life. I think I want to just be…a mom, a grandmother, a friend first and foremost, and see where that leads.

Sitting here floundering in the quietness of wondering what is next, I am going to hold on to this quote by Charles M Schulz

My life has no purpose, no direction, no aim, no meaning, and yet I’m happy. I can’t figure it out. What am I doing right?

Charles M. Schulz

And this Bible verse:

Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.

Proverbs 19:21

Movin On Up

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Yes, it’s true. We moved up. Not in social status like the Jefferson’s,
which the title is referring to, and if you don’t know what I’m writing about,
look it up and find a fun TV Series from the past. No, we moved on up to higher
living, meaning we now live on the third floor of a senior living community
rather than in our big four-bedroom home. I promised you some blogs about our
moving day, so settle in.

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