Shelter

There's been a lot of talk lately about the importance of families eating dinner together.

Always I am transported back to the kitchen table in Hinkletown, seven of us gathered around the table, bowls and platters of food heaping the center - usually containing something like creamy mashed potatoes, with a big dollop of butter melting down the sides and a liberal sprinkling of pepper. And of course meat, fried, sauteed, simmered, roasted - always super tender and gravied.
And vegetables from the garden - fresh, frozen, canned. And desserts - pies, puddings, cookies, cakes.

But all that, despite its mouth-watering goodness, was incidental to the conversation. Make that, bombardment of words! Everyone was eager to chime in about his or her day. It was a challenge to be heard. More of a challenge not to be mocked by my all-knowing elder sibs. But it was a family forum. If you had issues with your teacher - always the teacher side would be taken. "what did you say?" What were you doing at the time?" Always a different perspective was brought out. We vented jokes, resentment, hardships, achievements, - all the stuff of life got tossed into the family fire. Insignificance evaporated, gold remained. The day could be shelved now that it was shared.

Today's accelerated schedules have families eating, sharing, musing on the run. That can work too.

 But there is something irreplaceable about laying down baggage before a group of inspectors who love you and who motion you safely through that day's security check.