And the people sat around the table

As empty nesters, one of our greatest joys is the comfort of knowing that our two grown children enjoy each other’s company and that they actually like to come home. My husband and I have been known to think shamelessly, “Hmm, we must have done something right.” At that root of something right, we decided is routine, tradition, stability; the biggest symbol perhaps being the kitchen table. 

We’ve all heard, “The family who eats dinner together stays together.” According to an article in The Scramble, in the past 20 years, the frequency of family dinners has decreased 33 percent. Sixty years ago, the average dinnertime was 90 minutes. Today, it’s less than 12 minutes. Today, sadly, we find ourselves in the middle of a global pandemic. Shelter-in-place orders, restaurant, business and school closings, and overall social distancing have families staying home and spending more time together—and maybe—spending more time around the table.

At our first kitchen table so proudly purchased when our oldest was two years old, so much more than eating happened. That table served as the center of much of our lives, countless family meals and chatter until our kids went off to college and into the working world. As two working parents living in Phoenix, we always did our best to have dinner together as a family. We were lucky enough to have an angel-from-heaven caregiver, Mary, who instilled discipline and routine in our kids. They would come home from school—and to avoid any sibling fights—Mary would sit each of them at opposite ends of that 5-foot table for snack and homework time.  Evidence of art projects lived on in the form of scissor cuts and marker residue. Themed birthday parties, family Skip Bo games and lots of memories were made at that table. Happy times. Sad times. The saddest perhaps being when we told them we were moving to Seattle. 

The best times were when we mingled around the table long after eating. As teenagers, our table was host to numerous family conversations, joint decisions and philosophical discussions. Especially exciting was the unveiling of our long-anticipated first iPhones. Discussions around electric vehicles, iPhone apps, passionate talks on company culture and customer service. High school boys poker nights. The list goes on.

Then, six years ago we moved into a different house and no longer had room for our first family table. Our daily table was replaced with a sturdy pine version where my husband and I still sit down together for dinner, just the two of us. But my favorite times are when the table is full—full of good food, festive decor and most of all full of people and full of laughter. When my kids are home, it’s a place to catch up and hear about their lives, to celebrate successes, offer support and make family vacation plans. Our discussions continue to be philosophical and often include heavier, weightier topics. When extended family visits, I look forward to sharing food, playing games, singing and dancing around (or is that on?) the table. Recent neighborhood Bunco games have left evidence of score keeping from someone with an especially heavy hand (still believed to be a left-handed culprit).

My hope is to someday have a huge, long table in the middle of a big (white) farm kitchen. Or better yet a table that seems to stretch forever ... on a farm, in an orchard, under the trees, or on a beach ... with people spilling around it, sharing good times, toasting and celebrating.

However, this time of uncertainty in the world is not one for celebrating; at least not how we think of celebrating. As a way of offering some comfort to the world, retired schoolteacher Kitty O’Meara wrote this poem that’s gone viral:

And the people stayed home! 

And the people stayed home. And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently.

And the people healed. And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.

My wish is that there will soon be a day when we look back at this time when the people stayed home and we will discover that the people also sat around the table.