Lessons Learned

It was a long solid oak table, dominating the small dining room in our 3 bedroom home. There were ten of us seated around the table for our daily supper, our family meetings and any other occasion that required our full attention. I doubt that there is a conference table in the nation that had as much animated discussion as our wooden companion. Have you ever notice how inanimate objects, embraced with our hearts, or our tears, take on a life of their own. The dining room was just a room, but the table was the spirit and soul of the room.

In the early 50’s families gathered round to eat their breakfast. It was usually cereal, oatmeal or pancakes. During that time the cereal makers put little prizes in the cereal boxes to entice the adults to buy their brand. There was always a discussion of who should get the prize and we settled on taking turns. It was then I learned the importance of standing your ground. However, in the sibling mix there was one, softhearted brother who gave up his turn in the face of the pleas around him. He continued to be a soft heart his whole life.

Then there were the evening meals. We were such a loud bunch and the passing and waiting were almost more than we could bear.  We were supposed to wait until everyone’s’ plate was full before we started. Have you ever had to wait for 10 plates to be filled? The aroma of mom’s lovingly prepared meals wafting to our noses, the stomach gurgling with hunger pangs, and the stern eyes of the Head of the table daring us to take a bite, was a nightly routine. There I learned patience.

When the meal was completed eldest daughter, that was me, took off the table. Scraping and stacking, soaking and washing, drying and putting away, that was where I learned responsibility.  Eldest daughter means lots of work and a fair amount of time trying to pass it off.

Enter best friend up the street. An only child whose parents couldn’t do enough for her, she was as pampered and coddled as the poached eggs they put in front of her. They would have chewed her food for her if they could. When best friend comes to my house she revels in the hubbub, the cacophony of sounds, the disarray, and the work load. Because I was her best friend I “allowed” her to put her hands up to her elbows in the soap suds and wash each and every dish, scrub every dirty pan, and put them away. She would thank me profusely for letting her do the fun things I did. That is when I learned how to be Tom Sawyer.