If you are anything like myself, you don’t really enjoy passing along bad news, especially about yourself. In what could be called a southern tradition. Me and any number of my friends or family members, would often get together and see who could “out poor the other”. Growing up around the kitchen table, it was nothing to hear the grown folks pour out their troubles over a glass of sweet tea and a full ashtray. Confessing their sins and pouring out their hearts about any given situation.
As I grew older I’ve done my share of pouring out my troubles to friends and family. But after moving up here to Central Georgia I lost a lot of my support network back home in Savannah. But I had one particular relative whom I did find solace with. Sitting at his kitchen table, we’d smoke, drink coffee, and tell each other our health or financial troubles. It got to the point where became a game of “out poor-ing” each other, as opposed to outpouring. But either way it always felt good to laugh and leave our troubles at the table.
I maybe repeating myself by telling this old story. But when I look at my phone and see the faces of long gone family and friends whose numbers I dare not delete. I’m reminded of just how small my circle has gotten. And while a great number of you may say, “Oh, you know you could just call me”. How many of us really believe that? In a world of emojis and likes, where has the kitchen table gone. I’m sure younger generations don’t really know what I’m talking about. But not so many years ago I was one of you, with many of my own “ride or dies”. But with the passing of time, you hear less and less of that laughter and conversation, and a lot more the silence of time. I don’t mean to sound so depressed it’s just sad that we give so little time beyond ourselves.
As I grew older I’ve done my share of pouring out my troubles to friends and family. But after moving up here to Central Georgia I lost a lot of my support network back home in Savannah. But I had one particular relative whom I did find solace with. Sitting at his kitchen table, we’d smoke, drink coffee, and tell each other our health or financial troubles. It got to the point where became a game of “out poor-ing” each other, as opposed to outpouring. But either way it always felt good to laugh and leave our troubles at the table.
I maybe repeating myself by telling this old story. But when I look at my phone and see the faces of long gone family and friends whose numbers I dare not delete. I’m reminded of just how small my circle has gotten. And while a great number of you may say, “Oh, you know you could just call me”. How many of us really believe that? In a world of emojis and likes, where has the kitchen table gone. I’m sure younger generations don’t really know what I’m talking about. But not so many years ago I was one of you, with many of my own “ride or dies”. But with the passing of time, you hear less and less of that laughter and conversation, and a lot more the silence of time. I don’t mean to sound so depressed it’s just sad that we give so little time beyond ourselves.
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