Devaluing dinner

Why are we meetin’ when we oughta be eatin’?

It looks like I’ll be missing supper tonight -- again.

And not for lack of groceries. My pantry is well stocked … too well stocked some might say. No, I’ll have plenty of food on the shelves and in the fridge just waiting to go onto the stove, into the oven, and onto a plate. I have food aplenty. It’s just that when I should be prepping it, cooking it, serving it, and, not of the least importance, eating it, I’m pretty well obligated by civic duty, community expectation, social nicety, or common curiosity to be elsewhere than at my supper table at suppertime.

And I’ll not be alone. I’d venture to say that pretty much everyone who will be there, if they weren’t there, would be sitting down to supper too.

That’s why the folks organizing this event will be putting out snacks…to keep grumbling stomachs from creating grumbling patrons. At least for the moment.

But neither man nor woman lives on summer sausage and cheese cubes alone…even garnished by celery sticks and dip. When it’s been a long time since lunch, people are hungry.

But a real meal…call it dinner or call it supper…it’s nowhere to be seen, much less sat down to.

This, I will insist, is not a good thing. Not good for digestion, not good for nutrition. Not good for couples, for friends, and certainly not for families. Not a good thing at all.

Time was, I recall, when this would not have been a problem. There was a civic consensus which governed such things. As a boy, the noon siren served notice to all it was time to lay down tools, put away paperwork, and settle down to soup, sandwich, or whatever midday sustenance was that day’s choice. From one end of town to the other, we all ate together.

Six hours later, the church bells became the village dinner bells. Backyard ball games gave way to goulash as up and down the block families tucked into roast beef, mashed potatoes, or whatever domestic delight was set on the table, a “Come Lord Jesus…” or “Bless us, O Lord…” was said and Mom, Dad and the kids dug in. If suppertime wasn’t sacred, how come most of the day’s prayers reached Heaven just minutes after 6 p.m.?

And out in the secular world it was clearly understood that the hours between quitting time and when the last dish was dried and put away was off limits to any scheduled activity save for church suppers, scout troop potlucks, or going away parties for well-regarded co-workers.

But no more.

Sometime between my high school graduation and the attainment of full-fledged curmudgeonhood organized eating seems to have become an optional activity. Oh, we most certainly haven’t given up on calories…had the growth in the gross national product kept up with the gross national girth we’d all be flushing gold toilets. No, instead of sitting down to a hearty plateful at a six hour interval, we munch, nosh, and nibble from bed to bed, always eating ‘cuz we’re never quite sure when our next meal is coming to us.

Rather than sit down to supper we’re routinely called upon to meet, conference, network, interact, participate, palaver, and engage in other essentially non-nutritional activities between the end of the last hour of the workday and time to get the kid’s into their pajamas. Then, with no time to cook and too tired to eat, we’ll swing through the drive-through, unwrap tepid, soggy burgers and limp, depressing fries, and call it, well, dinner… Yeah, so much for the high point of the day. Break out the Tums and turn on the TV.

It doesn’t have to be this way. When I was a kid, evening school events couldn’t start before 7:30 so farm families could get the cows milked, chores done, and supper eaten. Events were scheduled to fit people’s lives rather than the other way around.

We may not have cows, but we have chores…and families…and need time to take care of them. We ought to schedule for that…keeping in mind that there’s more to suppertime than eating supper.