Ricochet is the best place on the internet to discuss the issues of the day, either through commenting on posts or writing your own for our active and dynamic community in a fully moderated environment. In addition, the Ricochet Audio Network offers over 50 original podcasts with new episodes released every day.
Power of Words: Table Talk
Growing up, supper was served at the dinner table. Attendance was mandatory. There was no television in the house to distract or draw us away as quickly as we could eat.
When we were done eating, the table was cleared, and a large pot of tea was put on the table. This was the signal for family talk, which could turn into a verbal free-for-all. From this, on top of all the books in the house, augmented by frequent library trips, four young people turned into very expressive adults. Our parents set the expectation that each of us could speak for ourselves, and be part of a conversation with adults.
Oh, and there was no coarse language modeled or permitted. So, figure out how to make your point with civil language. That is an invaluable skill in the wider world.
Each of my sisters has her own distinct voice, and I regularly find myself enjoying a turn of phrase, written or spoken, by each of them. The talk is seldom around a physical table these days, but oh what joy when it is!
Published in Group Writing
Sounds wonderful! We always ate dinner at the table also and no one was excused early. Six kids. But the only table talk was something like “eat your peas”, “you’d better not gag” or “you’re not leaving the table until you swallow that”. At least we didn’t have to hear about the pagan babies.
It sounds like a wonderful ritual, although it’s difficult to imagine today. I seem to remember that in John McCain’s family growing up, they were expected to dress for dinner. That would be another nifty ritual.
This conversation reminds me it is time to brew up another pot of tea. Wait, that’s not right. I mean, it’s true, but not what I intended to say. This conversation is an entry in our Group Writing Series under May’s theme of The Power of Words. We still have one more slot in May, namely tomorrow. If a volunteer does not come forward, I’m not sure what I may be driven to do. That Barney the Purple Dinosaur Song has some very powerful words, after all. If you’d like to prevent such utter destruction and have ever encountered the power of words, you might want to go sign up right now.
In June, our theme will be Now That’s Imagination! Ever used your imagination? Ever known someone else who was imaginative? Why not share the story with us? You want to write an imaginative short story? June will be the month to do it. Come share with us.
What a marvelous gift your parent’s gave you. :)
I think a lot of our social problems would be eliminated if families simply set down together for dinner every evening.
Your suggestion (which I wholeheartedly endorse) reminds me of the (apocryphal, I think) recipe for hare soup in Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, which starts out, “First, catch your hare.”
I think the table, and the dinner, are the easy part. The hard part, in the twenty-first century will be finding, and then catching, the family.
We ate nearly every night at the dining room table. My dad often wore a sports jacket. Kids needed cleaned up and dressed properly. We had assigned seats. I sat to my dads right and my brother to his left. He of course was at the head of the table. My sister sat next to my mother. We also had family conversation. It was sometimes contentious . I can’t remember the issue but my dad made a statement. I knew that if I said what I wanted to say there would be fireworks. I said it anyway. He slammed both hands on the table, his false teeth ejecting from his mouth. He reached for me but I was too fast. I locked myself in my room for the night and avoided him for about a week. Looking back now I wish I knew what the discussion was about. It couldn’t have been earth shattering or I would remember. I was about 15 at the time. I still miss him every day. We never got along but we loved one another like crazy. He told my sister on his death bed that he loved me more than his other kids, he just couldn’t stand me. I still find incredible that the most important person in my life and I had that kind of relationship.
Too much alike?
Not so much. He expected perfection and I was anything but. That was not all of it though. However being both hothead Irish didn’t help. He was a very complicated man. Hugely intelligent but very moody. They say when you get to heaven ( if I make it) you’ll know everything. Ill have to wait.
Marvelous, @cliffordabrown! Weekends were for dedicated family dinner at my house: (Either Friday/Saturday were fish/steaks; candlelight; dance music on the stereo; all of us helping with prep) and, of course, Sundays, after church. My folks’ work schedules dictated this arrangement, but they made the most of it.
My kids pore over the morning paper at breakfast and find things to disagree with. I couldn’t be prouder.