If you were to ask me about tradition, I’d tell you I’m a firm believer. My life is a tapestry woven with threads passed down from my parents, and I cherish their texture and color. I celebrate the same holidays, often in much the same way they did, right down to the familiar, comforting flavors of my mom’s recipes. The rhythm of my life would be familiar to them. We attend an Anglican church where I sing on the worship team, something I know would make my mom proud. My work teaching journalism hearkens back to my roots and my dad’s career in newspapers, and my daily habit of consuming a massive amount of news is a direct inheritance from him.
I’ve been intentional about passing this legacy on. I raised my daughter, Lizzi, much the same way I was raised, and it brings me incredible joy to see her already teaching some of these same foundational lessons to her own son, Sully. These continuities are anchors, connecting generations.
But not every tradition has endured in the same way. One of the most significant didn’t so much end as it just… faded. We no longer eat dinner together at the dining table each night.
It wasn’t a conscious decision. After Daryl and I got married, life just happened. We settled into a new routine, and somehow the sofa became the default destination for dinner plates. We were together, but it wasn’t the same. Neither of us forced the issue, and slowly, the practice of gathering around the table slipped away.
I’ve missed it more than I realized. Growing up, dinner at the table was sacred. I can still picture my parents on either side, Dad pushing his evening paper aside as Mom ladled out her famous pot roast. There’s a unique power in the simple act of sitting at a table, free from the distractions of a television, looking at each other while sharing a meal and the stories of a day. It’s a space for connection. It’s a habit that reinforces the family unit in a way that eating together in front of a screen just can’t replicate.
Realizing this feels less like a regret and more like an opportunity. Traditions aren’t just relics to be preserved; they are living things that require cultivation. This one, I think, needs to be revisited and intentionally reintroduced. I can already picture it: plates set on the table, laughter spilling out between bites, Sully telling us about his latest adventure.
It’s time to reclaim the table.
What about you? Is there a tradition you’ve let slip that might be worth bringing back?
Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.
