Our Dinner Table
Words and Photos By: Gillian Mahoney
out the trio as the youngest child. He likes to remind me of his mischievous behavior around his siblings, whether it be pulling his sister’s hair or pranking her friends. When it was time to sit down for dinner, these personalities melded into one family identity. Everyone sat at the same table and shared the same food. Regardless of any height or age differences between the siblings, everything was level in the dining room. But my dad still kept up his antics. He writes, “often I would protest about eating vegetables, and at times would try to hide them with little success as my mom was on to me.” When asked about what lingers in their memories, daily activities and certain spoken words fade away. What remains are images of their mother and father at the heads of the table, mediating conversations and offering counsel. My nana always made a home-cooked meal, and a chicken and shrimp dish was a favorite among the Mahoney kids.
The dinner table. The cornerstone of the household. The great equalizer. The source of calm after a hectic day. The place to recharge, refuel, and reconnect. And above all, the place where familial bonds are strengthened and traditions are established. All of this my dad, aunt, and uncle recognize as the core of their family mealtimes growing up. The dinner table stands out as a symbol of togetherness, both in the past and present. It’s the place to share love through sharing food.
Looking back, the sounds of laughter and a strong sense of togetherness were focal points in their memories. Sitting around the table united them. As my dad notes, when everyone was gathered over a shared meal, they could shed all of their worries. Their proximity to one another sparked their personalities, amplifying them and pushing them to be their honest selves. Even if no one remembers exactly what they were saying or doing, those nightly conversations had special meaning. The individuals that lead separate lives during the day were reunited with one common need: support from the ones they loved.
When my dad, Auntie Pat, and Uncle John were kids, the Mahoney household held a family dinner each night. Uncle John is the oldest, and he assumes the responsibility of watching over his brother and sister. I still see these characteristics now as he offers the family words of wisdom at holiday gatherings, aiming to bring all of the generations together as he reflects on the values of love and support that come from reuniting a few times a year. Auntie Pat, known as “Perfect Pat” to her brothers, is the middle child. Even today, she is the emblem of this perfection, as she is always selfless, thoughtful, and compassionate. My dad rounds
The meals they shared were part of that support. When my nana took the time to prepare dinner, be it my dad’s favorite lamb chops or Auntie Pat’s treasured lasagna, she sent a message to her family. She didn’t have to cook the most elaborate meal to tell them that all she wanted was to see them happy, fed, and deepening their connections with one another. When my dad, aunt, and uncle look back at their childhoods, family dinner allowed them to stand still in a world full of movement. They would grow up and their personalities would change, but the pull toward sharing food would always be there. “It helps us to be part of each other’s
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