Shopper Blog: No-guilt gatherings build strong foundation

OPINION

No-guilt gatherings build strong foundation

Leslie Snow, Shopper News

If I close my eyes, I can still picture my grandmother standing in front of the door to her apartment, waiting for us to arrive for Friday night dinner. I can picture the tissues stuffed inside her sleeve and the apron tied tightly around her ample waist. But mostly, I remember her joyful smile and the way we rushed into her arms for a hug before we joined the rest of the family in the living room.

Her apartment always smelled like stuffed cabbage and brisket. Her candy bowl was always filled with M&M’s. And her table was always set for a crowd, 17 of us on most nights.

My parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles would gather around a table overflowing with too much food. Second and third helpings were not only encouraged, they were required. And on those rare occasions when I would turn down a second serving of stuffed cabbage, my grandmother would say, with a pained expression on her wrinkled face, “What? You don’t like my cooking?”

If you didn’t leave my grandmother’s table too stuffed to move, you were offending her.

When I was younger, I always looked forward to Friday night dinners. I would listen quietly while the adults argued over politics and the strength of the Cleveland Browns offensive line. Children were seen and not heard at my grandmother’s table, but I didn’t mind. I was content, even then, to be a quiet observer.

When I grew older, my Friday nights were harder to sacrifice. I wanted to listen to records at my friend Evy’s house or see a movie with Kriss. I wanted to stay after school for play practice and be there for all my high school football games. I wanted to be a normal teenager, and I resented the heaping spoonfuls of guilt served at every meal I missed.

Maybe that’s why, when our kids and extended family moved to Knoxville, I didn’t try to re-create the Friday night dinners of my youth. I didn’t insist that everyone choose between date night and dinner at our house.

Instead, I instituted Browns Brunch, an opportunity for NFL fans and nonfans to gather for a meal, catch up on the week’s news, and to watch a Browns game together. Whether they like football or not.

Watching the game isn’t required and children are encouraged to be both seen and heard, except during scoring drives. Second helpings are optional.

I tell everyone who joins us that there is no guilt in football. “You’ll always be included, but you never have to come,” is the message I send out in our group text. And I mean it. I can already foresee a time when sleepovers or soccer tournaments take priority over family brunch, but for now, everyone seems happy to join us each Sunday.

And even though the weekly meal we serve doesn’t land on Friday night, I still think of my grandmother when the kids run into my arms at our front door each Sunday afternoon. I think of her waiting for us outside her apartment and of the long hours she spent cooking and baking for the 17 of us.

Friday night dinner was one of her great joys, and my memories of those nights have stayed with me.

In my way, I’m channeling and honoring my grandmother with every text invitation I send for Browns Brunch. She knew the importance of weekly gatherings and of keeping family close. She understood that staying connected builds a strong foundation. Even when movie night takes priority.

Leslie Snow may be reached at snow column@aol.com.  

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This article originally appeared on Knoxville News Sentinel: Shopper News brings you the latest happenings in your community