Breakfast was a symbol of something pure that products of divorce, such as myself, used as a compass to happiness; a happy family. While my own family ate wherever they lingered in their solitude and typically only ate together at one table on holidays, there was this ever-present dream of a wholesome family meal; untainted and a ‘what if’ attainability.
The few times we wrestled with sitting down at the table for a family breakfast or dinner, the only thing served was silence or resentment; not much of a variety of tastes. Instead, we could watch Leave It To Beaver reruns at dinner time and watch the Cleavers, loving and virtuous, communicating and eating a full bird. I didn’t get to eat a full bird until recently and if you’ve ever seen a full bird during preparation it’s enough to make you wonder if even June Cleaver, America’s most perfect mother, was a deviant. Looking back, her obsession with kitchen activities and ability to do exceptional card tricks may have just been OCD and a gambling problem. I guess even the All-American family has their imperfections, but it didn’t keep us from looking up to them and wanting a little slice of Cleaver pie.
We watched the Jetsons and heard the media projections on the future, but it came and went without flying cars and watch computers. We didn’t experience the Apocalypse in 2000, and I’m pretty sure the one in 2012 is just a ploy to sell more batteries and water. However, I can’t deny the digital age in front of me and the lack of simplicity all around me. Why would children ride bikes when there’s an app for that? What will become of imagination and pretend when it comes from a device? What will double entendre become but acronyms and symbols like OMG PIG : p (Oh My God Pretty Intelligent Girl–sticking tongue out) . I failed in college at learning another language and luckily Ebonics didn’t stick, but I may have to noodle on text language.
I’ve got to finish this blog posting soon though because my iPhone is blowing up, but the point is that the NY Times came out with an article about electronic breakfast tables (my term, not theirs). It’s a sad reality that my wholesome symbol of family will be as extinct as playing house in a real tree house and not on SIMS.