An indication of the changing lifestyle and structure of American families may directly correlate to whether the home has a designated dining room. I’ve read that in recent years the dining room has been replaced across our country with rooms that serve families in different ways. Some spaces are converted to mancaves, libraries, home offices, craft rooms or playrooms. Whether conscious or not, eating together as a family has been deemed not as important as other activities within homes. I’ve read that home designers often ask the homeowner if they cook or entertain to ascertain whether a dining room is required or needed. It seems that many families across our country eat dinner in the living room while watching television.

There is a lot to be said for the role of the dining room table in cementing and securing family relationships. Facing one another when eating and engaging in conversation while looking other family members in the eye creates connection. Sitting in the living room on couches and chairs distracted by television or phones doesn’t exactly express to children that relationships or bonding are a priority. When you have children, sitting down to a meal together can be a time of connection, especially if it is a regular occurrence.

People around my generation will remember that eating supper together every night as a family was an absolute event. Everyone knew what time they had to be home in order to be present at the table for the meal. Those were the days when children ate what their mother’s cooked without debate. And the kitchen wasn’t a restaurant. Mom would make one version of supper or dinner, and everyone ate it. Common courtesy, respect and even dinner table etiquette was learned around the table. Discussions were had about everyone’s day. Stories were told. Laughs were shared. Sometimes serious conversations occurred. Just writing this makes me wish I could go back and have just one supper again with my immediate family as a child or teenager. My dad got off work at 5 p.m. when I was in high school. He worked at Corning Publishing. If all was going well at work, we would hear his old truck, a standard, shifting gears as he turned the corner at Polk and onto Harb as he headed toward the house. He would often go around the intersection on his way home and turn onto Polk. The heavy clang of the metal door could be heard as he exited the truck. And depending on what day it was, he would be carrying some publication he had printed. It might be the HOMES magazine. If it was Tuesday, it was the Merchandiser and if it was Thursday, he would have the Courier under his arm. I can still smell the ink on his clothes and see it stained into the grooves of his fingertips. He’d wash his hands before supper and come to the table. Everyone had their seat around it. He would sit down, and mom would be finishing up supper at the stove and my sister and I set the table and served up food dishes to place on the table.

It’s hard for me to imagine a home without a dining table for people to gather around. Growing up our dinner table was the place not only for meals, but also for any important conversation in our family. If my parents were discussing business, insurance of any kind, or future plans, these conversations happened at the table. If we needed help with homework or to work on a project, we did it at the table. When my grandparents dropped in on a Saturday morning to visit, everyone would gather at the table while they drank coffee and talked.

When we lived out in the country, I can remember around 1977 or so, we had a very stormy cycle. Our family spent a few evenings that year sitting in our dark kitchen huddled around our dinner table as the electricity was out. We would read our Bibles by the light of an oil lamp as the wind howled, thunder boomed, lightning flashed, and sheets of rain hit the house under severe storm warnings.

As a child, we would all go to my grandparents’ house after church for Sunday dinner. Some Sundays, our preacher, Boyd Morgan who lived in Paragould, would eat with us. The one thing my sister and I could count on was our whole family would be eating fried chicken every Sunday at noon around my Nanny’s dinner table. In this sense, the dining table became a tent pole for our family memories and the stability of our lives.

The commitment of regular meals at the table are especially important for children. They need a model to demonstrate that family is important and worth the effort of setting time aside; especially in this era when distractions are everywhere. They need to hear the family stories told down through generations around the table, while learning dining etiquette, and how to converse.

These days everything from cultural changes to technology is pulling at the fabric of the family institution. What if the slowly disappearing dining table is the key to preserving families in the future? If meeting at the dinner table is erased from our domestic culture what else could possibly be as powerful as to encourage communication, commitment, stability and provide sustenance in the form of connection and nutrition?

The dining room may have become replaceable in many American homes, but the sanctity of our families and its values must remain intact. The family that dines together, thrives together.

Pam Lowe is the editor of the Clay County Courier. Readers may contact her at plowe@cheeryroad. com