Dear Friends,
We're quickly approaching the Holidays of Cornucopian Delight, and so “Dear Maura” takes on The Family Dinner. (Remember those?) In our suburban Los Angeles house, these were quiet affairs, the proverbial feast tainted by the vow of silence. My job was to pry from my FBI agent father information about who he really was. Mission Impossible? Yes. But I was a decent sleuth and never gave up. And when something went wrong in our household, my mother dashed to the kitchen, pulled out the roasting or baking pans, whipped up some concoction, and hoped for the best.
Here’s an excerpt from my memoir, SHE'S ALL EYES, published this month by Warner Books.
"Dad is very sad. Dad is very quiet.
Roast beef, pork chops, ham patties, lamb, potatoes, macaroni, fish sticks, beets, creamed corn, carrots, spinach, sweet potatoes, apple pie, cherry pie, homemade chocolate cake. Everything Mom cooks Dad stares at as if the food is the moon. He says nothing to Mom, not even saying anything to make her cry. She asks no questions, but is sure to look us kids in the eyes to tell us everything is going to be okay.
Out of respect, we learn to listen to the sound of our mouths chewing food, slow."
(P. 234 in SHE'S ALL EYES, copyright, 2005)
Questions:
- Does your family have a code at the dinner table?
- How about when you were growing up?
- Why is the family dinner table so rich with memory?
Please send your remarks on The Family Dinner (800 words or less) and you are automatically entered into the SHE'S ALL EYES custom-made candle weekly drawing. A little gift to help shed light on the code in your life.
Thank you for writing.
Warm Best,