I’ve spent a decent amount of time sitting around our family table.
That’s saying something, because there were definitely times in our history when the family table was nothing more than a couple of us with a couch and a sitcom grabbing a few bites between homework or overtime. Or, it was a few of us relegated to the kids table during a hurried breakfast. On other occasions, it was an enormous picnic of scattered friends and family overflowing to the kitchen where we stood around with paper plates. It wasn’t always the hallmark version of pot pies, aprons and checkered tablecloths that made our dinners whole. But wherever we were, stories were usually traded.
Sometimes they were as simple as what happened at swim practice. Other times, they were as complex as a World War and the Great Depression. A few years ago I got the idea to start collecting them, because they explained a lot about who I am and the people I came from. In the good and bad, our histories make us.
These are those stories. Welcome, and enjoy.
