The Day the Music Died

 Peanuts, Popcorn and a Squirrel

An Ode to Family Dinners
(Revised)

I am not delusional about being the model parent. I am realistic.

Yet, as I surveyed our family dining table one Sunday night years ago, even I was amazed by what I saw.

We had attended church, made a quick run to the grocery store, and by the time we walked through the front door, I had three pairs of hungry eyes staring at me.

I did not want to cook. 

Short-order cuisine was on the menu. Soup, canned chili, sandwiches, maybe even chicken fajitas if I got ambitious.

Then Cade reminded his father his first squirrel was sitting in the refrigerator, waiting to be cooked.

As a hunter who loves fresh deer meat, he wasn't nearly as excited about fresh Alabama squirrel, but he rolled the tiny pieces in flour and fried up the trophy.

I turned to the other twin and asked what he wanted for dinner. Surely the answer would be waffles.

Nope.

Boiled peanuts.

From a can.

Since I had completely lost control of the menu, I decided to join the madness. I wanted popcorn. Not microwave popcorn, either. I wanted old-fashioned popcorn popped in a pot on the stove with real butter and popcorn salt.

Carl settled for a bowl of healthy cereal.

And there we sat around the dining table.

My husband with his cereal.

One twin gnawing on squirrel bones.

The other polishing off boiled peanuts and a Slim Jim.

And me hovering over a giant bowl of popcorn.

What a family meal. Not quite a bragging moment.

Have you ever had one of those dinners at your house? Have you ever looked around the table and thought, "What in the world was I thinking?"

I actually took feeding my kids pretty seriously.

Back when Jamie Oliver was exposing school lunch horrors on television, my boys refused to eat cafeteria food. Every morning I packed healthy lunches and tried my best to make sure they ate fresh, balanced meals.

At least most of the time.

But every now and then, it is okay to throw caution to the wind and declare a "whatever-you-want" night.

Life cannot always be routines, schedules, and doing everything the right way.

Parenting requires a little creativity.

I remember one weekend when Carl and I split the twins up for individual dinner dates. He took Conner, and I took Cade.

I was worried Cade would choose Captain D's. Sorry, but I grew up eating fresh fish from the Pearl River, and imitation fish has always made me nervous.

Conner chose a Chinese buffet with his dad.

Thankfully, Cade chose Olive Garden.

The surprising thing wasn't where we ate. It was that, for once, the twins weren't interacting with each other. They were interacting one-on-one with us.

Those conversations were priceless.

Because the real superpower has never been the food.

It's the gathering.

Family meals create conversations.

Back when this story first happened, nobody had a phone glued to their hand.

Around our table that night, we talked about how Conner would get his turn to hunt squirrels next time. We swapped stories about my childhood, eating Pearl River swamp squirrels and rabbits smothered in country gravy. Sometimes there were frog legs involved.

My country roots provided plenty of opportunities to eat exotic wildlife, though I would have happily traded most of it for a grilled chicken breast.

Today, the saddest thing is looking around restaurants and seeing families sitting together while everyone stares at a screen.

Gathered, but not really together.

Present, but not connected.

Some of my favorite memories are Sunday meals at my dad's house. Dad always cooked—thankfully, because Mom could burn ice cubes.

The New Orleans Saints would be losing, Friends and family would be yelling at the television between bites, and somehow those became some of the sweetest moments of my life.

Oh, what wonderful times.

Treasure your time with your children.

Mine are all grown now.

Family dinners are fewer and farther between.

The chairs around the table sit empty more than they used to.

I realize my voice is no longer the loudest influence in their lives. The world has plenty of opinions competing for their attention.

The voices that filled the room have lives of their own now.

I think often of an Amy Grant lyric:

"Watching my children finding their way, through struggles and triumphs and heartbreak. I hope the roads they take are making them strong. I'll still be on my knees long after they're gone. Love has made me Unafraid.

I am not sure I am unafraid, but I am doing my best to cast the worrying over to the Good Lord because it’s all out of my control anyway. 

I only hope I got enough vitamins and love poured into all those times we ate as a family. 

What’s for dinner at your house tonight? 

Does the menu sound like Grandpa from Hee Haw?

A Bistro?

A grab fest from the pantry?

Whatever the plate holds, put down the phones and ask questions of the loved one sitting at the table with you. 

My dining chairs that once seemed permanently occupied sit empty more often than not.