Bring Back the Dinner Table

Bring Back the Dinner Table

       Lucky are the children who grew up in the 1980's.  They were poorer but much richer times.  I got out of bed on a Saturday morning in 1984 and poured myself a bowl of Lucky Charms, careful not to pour too much, because cereal was considered gold in my house.  We didn't have the option to eat cereal for dinner just because mom was making minute steaks with mushroom gravy.  We ate that minute steak like it was the last meal we would have for the day, because it was.  If I was lucky enough to find that magical toy in the cereal box, then I would have to fight for it.  I would fight my brother like that toy was worth one million dollars. The toys in the Lucky Charms boxes were better than the Cornflake boxes where you had to mail in your proof of purchase and a five dollar money order in exchange for an "Olympic" jacket.  Boy was I disappointed when I received a basic piece of plastic in the mail after waiting for six long weeks.  How was I supposed to wear a piece of plastic to school after I had bragged about my Olympic jacket?  After eating my cereal, which mostly consisted of marshmallows by the time I was done picking through it, I washed that cereal bowl.  Let it soak?  Absolutely not.  You didn't do that at our house.  You washed your dishes by hand, and then you dried it.  After all, it was almost a mortal sin to put a wet dish away.  It was then time for me to exit out of my front door in order to catch the bus.  We never had the luxury of our parents driving us to school. Did parents even do that?  If both parents worked, then you were out of luck.  Before catching the bus, I would ask my mother for lunch money.  Does anyone remember lunch money?  My children have no concept of what that is. For them, lunch money is something that magically appears in a "lunch account" at their school.  They actually swipe a card that has their picture on it, and BOOM, lunch!! Back in 1984, if you didn't have lunch money, then you didn't eat lunch.  The only card that I had in 1984 was a library card.  Packing your lunch was a thing of mystery.  We couldn't afford things like Rainbow Bright lunchboxes and thermoses.  We ate at school, and if we didn't like it, then we ate it anyway.  You were not going to get another meal until dinnertime in the 80's. An after school snack consisted of Kool-Aid, tropical punch flavor if you were lucky. We passed notes in class, and if we got caught doing it, we would be shown the dreaded paddle.  The paddle wasn't the biggest fear however, the biggest threat was to have that note read out loud in front of all of your classmates.  That's a character builder that our children just don't get to experience these days.  That paddle WANTED to be used and that teacher WANTED to read that note.  Recess looked a lot different in the 80's.  We played kickball, we played tag, and we did anything we could to sweat.  Kids in the 80's liked to sweat.  We ran hard while the teachers drank coffee and smoked cigarettes in the teacher's lounge.  That teacher's lounge was a mystery to us.  What we wouldn't have given to get a glimpse inside that magical room.  I tried out for the cheerleading team and I didn't make it. My biggest fear at that time had become a reality. The embarrassment and the heartache had me in tears before that 3:00 p.m. bell rang.  I tried  so hard to swallow that lump in my throat, but to no avail, I turned into a water fountain.  They announced who made the team at school in front of everyone, but I lived.  Not everyone made the team in the 80's and not everyone got a trophy.  I didn't make that team because I wasn't good enough. I didn't work hard enough.  You better believe that I worked hard that entire summer so that I wouldn't feel that redness in my face again the next year, and guess what?  I made the team.  I made the team because I worked for it, not because I was just simply there.  And then there was the dinner table.  You all sat at the table in the 80's.  You didn't watch T.V. and have dinner while other family members were in another room playing on their phones and computers.  You sat, as a family.  You laughed, you argued,  and you talked about your day.  You ate chicken livers, potato cakes, and whatever vegetable that you had pulled out of your garden.  How do we solve the problems of the world?  We don't solve them by ignoring what is right in front of us.  We don't solve them by staying wrapped up in social media. Families that are portrayed on social media as perfect have their own problems, believe it or not.  We solve our problems by bringing back the dinner table and putting life back into our homes.  If there were a time machine, I would be the first one in line.  Destination 1984, please.  

Kristen Hamilton