Ten-Finger Exercises

dinnertime

Bill was a little late getting home tonight, and I began cooking as soon as he got here. Now he's out in the shop doing the Thursday night radio check, a system to alert both sides of the state in case of an incident, like Mt. St. Helens, that might prevent the news traveling through the regular methods, like telephone. Seems less likely now in the cell phone age, but nevertheless....

I was thinking about dinnertime when I was growing up. Unless it was a night when the store was open till 9, (which was Thursdays at first, and then Fridays too, and on and on, but not before I left home for college,) my family ate together. On those nights when Daddy was working, Mother and I would go to Emory University cafeteria, or we'd have tuna salad or canned stroganoff at home.

On regular nights we'd have meat (or fish, if someone had been fishing,) a salad, a vegetable, and a starch-- potatoes or bread usually, sometimes rice or pasta. Daddy always had a slice of bread and butter anyway. Sometimes we'd have dessert, most often fruit or jello. The vegetables were usually frozen, unless it was summer. Then we had green beans or corn on the cob, and always fresh tomatoes.

A few hours after dinner, Daddy would fix himself a peanut butter, mayo and onion sandwich. Mother quit fussing about it and being insulted after a few years, just shook her head and rolled her eyes.

I didn't have a lot of regular chores, but setting the table and fixing the vegetable were mine. When I was little, we had Fiesta plates, and I spent a lot of time deciding who got cobalt blue, or orange, or yellow or green. All the food was in serving dishes on the table, and we passed them and served ourselves. (If we had company, Daddy always served the plates from the head of the table.)

We usually ate at the dining room table until we moved to Atlanta and had a kitchen table in the kitchen/family room. Whichever place it was, we always set it with place mats and full place settings of silverware. Butter was served on a plate with a knife, and bread on a plate as well. If there was milk, like for cereal or berries, it was always poured into a pitcher. We did use paper napkins, and only went to cloth napkins with napkin holders later on.

(Not that this is particularly noteworthy, but I almost lost the blog. Found it by using the back arrow!)

I can't remember what Mother used as a centerpiece, but I'm pretty sure she had a fruit bowl or epergne as a permanent fixture. Later, when I saw a friend who did this, she stacked the place mats in the center, with her pewter candlesticks and salt and pepper on top when she cleaned the table after dinner. I forgot to say we often used candles.

We always talked at dinner, although I mostly remember Daddy telling stories of his work day and me of my school day.

We usually began dinner with Mother saying grace. She wanted Daddy to do it, but she usually was the one who thought about it and made it happen.

Only after we moved to Atlanta and ate most dinners at the kitchen table did we watch TV while we ate, and then not very often. Mother was strict about that, but she didn't always win. Daddy could trump her if he really wanted to.

We never took dinner into the den or the living room and ate off TV trays or in our laps.

That was a long time ago, and things have changed. Bill and I usually eat in the kitchen, not watching TV, but talking and reading. I dish up the plates straight from the kitchen, and we don't use placemats. The round wooden table is always crowded with the mail, magazines and other things to read. Occasionally we eat in the living room, despite the Oriental rug that was my mother's on the floor. She'd be livid!

What was dinnertime like when you were growing up, and how has it changed?