Reading Ellin Curley’s post brings back similar childhood memories of the family dinner table with one exception. The dinner hour was a sacred time when all of us gathered to pass the bowls of mashed potatoes and beans and break the bread of the world’s daily life. We were schooled in the best family practice: unselfishly sharing food with each other, never taking more than our fair share, unconditional regard and high expectation, respectful listening and thoughtful speaking, and the exercise of responsible citizenship in public life. It was a gift that keeps on giving.
There was one big difference. My mother never talked about sex at the Passover meal!