The Lost Art of Dinner Conversation

First… a joke…

Q: What do you call a bunch of narcissists with cell phones sitting around a table?

A: A Family Dinner

They Don’t Call It “Evening” For No Reason

Let me say right away that I am not against technology per se and I am not one of those “off the grid” proponents who want to go back to using leaves instead of toilet paper. I like modern conveniences. I like to watch news or a video sometimes while I am eating alone. It makes me feel like I am using my time wisely, learning something new, or feeding my brain while I feed my body. But, I am old enough to remember when people used to share stories of their lives around the dinner table--just little things that happened to them during the day.

It’s those little stories you share, those little annoying or stressful events that happen to you throughout the day that are transformed into humor… perceptions changed by distance, change of perspective, and a good meal kindled by the warmth of home and those who love you. It simply makes you a better human because it brings you back to the center of yourself where, ironically, you can see your ego is not the center of the universe. And, let’s face it, the evening meal is a good and natural time to let the little things go.

Opinions: The Cold Snack Food Of Teenagers

Now, in this culture of social media, memes, instant news, and electronic devices at the ready, awaiting your “click” of like or dislike, we have all been transformed into picky teenagers with a penchant for cold snack foods on our way to the next activity. I call it the Sandwich Subculture. Reduced to the concrete stage of development, our identities lost to any interesting stretch into abstractive or creative thought that we have become strangers to ourselves and, therefore others. The effect of this culture of personality and opinion is polarization. The further effect of this polarization from all aspects of life including, religion, politics, and interpersonal relationships is a kind of angsty teenager learned helplessness creating a culture of confusion, doubt, and a constant state of paranoid embarrassment.

The thing about our stories is that they “happened” to us. No one can argue with that. It’s more of an invitation to share, comment, or ask questions. So, it is inherently an inclusive process, an invitation that beckons participation. Like the amusing anecdote versus the one liner, our stories invite others to share our hearts and minds. They welcome and reveal a glimpse of ourselves and our soul, while opinions like some kind of exaggerated announcement over a loudspeaker or haranguing doorbell, simply slam the door on the imagination.