Life in the Palmetto State: The supper table, a 4-legged therapist

Coming up, I can't remember a night that the four of us didn't eat around the supper table. Our day was not complete without sharing a meal with my folks pulled up under the table eating and sharing our day. Mostly Dad's work, my Mom's day and her college pursuit, and the sports activities of my brother and I. Whatever the situation, and whatever was the most pressing, was the topic of our conversation.

Some were harder than others, but clear communication was the theme.

My Mom was an excellent cook, and we certainly enjoyed whatever she cooked. We didn't have the luxury of having one thing for me, one thing for my brother or Dad and so on and so forth. We ate what was in front of us or we didn't eat.

We hardly ever ate out because Mom cooked (one of her pride and joys was to cook for her family.)

Now let me interject this. For about six years, while she was taking night classes studying to be a lawyer, she didn't always cook. But Dad did.

Everything he cooked turned out to be something stirred in a pot.

Dad called it "sick wife's hash," and it was usually pretty good.

That's why my brother and I grew up pretty big kids. We never met a meal we didn't like.

Back to the therapeutic side of things.

There is an old adage that if you get what's bugging you on the outside, it feels a whole lot better than being on the inside, and there was plenty of that even accompanied by tears.

Now don't let me fool you, these conversations were not always easy. Some were heated, very heated. But once you got it out of your system and out in the open, you felt much better. I had too big of a conscience. I blabbed out everything, 'cause to be right honest I couldn't keep stuff hidden. It killed me to know I was keeping secrets from Mom and Dad, and yes, little brother.

Now, that table had no special powers, actually all it did was sit there, but it provided a platform (to use one of today's popular words) that seemingly promoted family engagement and honesty. It was a common denominator in our everyday life. An aspect of life that kept a lid on things.

We prayed around it, we ate on it, and you didn't disrespect it. It was part of the family, and you honored it. In my eyes, it was one of the glues that kept us together and sane.

So, as I sit at the bottom of this big ole pine on my place in the woods, I hear the mourning doves and quail. I see the squirrels playing in the trees acting out their afternoon ritual. I reminisce and yearn for those yesterdays. I miss Dad and Mom, Lee Sr. and Bobbie Jo so much that I ache to relive the memories that I grew up with.

So, to my readers, don't underestimate the power of the supper table. It just may be the only thing that holds your family together.

May God bless you!

Lee Reaves Jr. is president of Clarendon County Historical Society.