All great change in America begins at the dinner table.-Ronald Reagan

Sacred Dinner I believe is the term my friends coined for this event that occurred in the Broadbent house daily. Every night, with few exception we had dinner as a family, in the kitchen, at our small white table. My mother was an excellent cook and she would always have the meals planned and prepared ahead of time. My mouth waters just thinking of the dishes that I consumed over the years, nothing fancy, but all of them made with family in mind. If we were having mashed potatoes, my mother would dish out the white fluffy goodness (never ever from a box, always real potatoes), with smack on the plate and then we were told to "make a lake" to prepare for the gravy. Now that I think back to her serving, I think sometimes the spoon smacked the plate so hard it almost cracked it, and being a mom now I realize that may have been a chance to release some frustration. Now when it came to making lakes I remember that Angela would build almost like a pool for her gravy, she would even take her fingers and pinch the walls up so that the gravy would be deep and would never spill out, she wasn't a fan of having her food touch or mix. To this day I have still noticed how many plates and bowls she uses at meal times, making sure that each serving of goodness has it's separate quarters. My "lakes" were very similar to Jessica's. We made them smooth on the bottom, shallow and made sure the potatoes spread out wide, ensuring that each bite had a sufficient gravy to potato ratio. We didn't mind when the lake spilled over and encroached upon the other vittles, we just added that to our perfect bite. Angela still makes her own perfect bites, but she just likes to be the one that controls her options, and on that note, she never ever eats things open faced. Anyway back to the table, once the food was served and mom was sat, we would discuss the days events, hash out arguments, sometimes start arguments, touch base on upcoming events, and remember stories from the past. No one got up to do anything during dinner, you sat until you were done, and done in our house was a plate that had no food remaining on it, and we didn't have a dog, so you were required to pack away it all. Some nights my dad would check out of the conversation and read, but I believe he always had one ear in on the conversation just in case he felt the need to jump in and exert his man power (you know that seven votes), but even if he was engrossed in some paperback the maidens would make the conversation continue. There were many nights that I remember sitting there after the dinner was done still talking. Sometimes we would clean up and then sit back down enjoying each other's company, and sometimes we would scatter the moment we were full. My favorite nights were usually in the summer, when the sliding glass door would remain open the entire night allowing a cool breeze and some moths to join us, and usually just two or three of us would remain and talk about different things that were going on with us at the moment. Although dinner was the most action that table saw daily, there were many moments that we shared at the table, some good, some bad. We gathered for lunch, we would have a late night snack, it would be covered with books for homework, and sometimes bottles from parties. I remember when I was older waiting until midnight when my dad would get home, and sit with him while we ate tostidos and cheese, he had a beer or two, and I had my water. He would tell me about work sometimes, but there were times that we discussed his past, and I realized how important my future was to him. I knew that all these times, and all this "ritual" that my parents had created was to shape me into the person that I was hoped to become. I was taught values, manners, respect, and tradition, while I was following perseverance and dreams. I don't know if at the time my parents realized that each and every day this is what they were doing, but I am very thankful that this is how I was raised. I too am trying to follow this tradition with my children, my life is busier, but I realize the importance of a gathering of family. So the key to raising children is in the furniture, a study table in the home (epoxy sometimes helps) and a desk in a school. Education was presented at each of them, it was just in two different ways. 09.10.11