You enter a restaurant with a party of 7, and are given the choice of any table. Which would you choose? Would you take the booth off to the right, because you're a fan of cushiony seats? Would you find yourself and your large party along the banquet style table, long and rectangular? Would you pick a cluster of two tops along the wall, pushing them into a makeshift cluster? Or would you gravitate to the round table in the center, robust and inviting? To some it seems overwhelmingly large, all of this space among those who sit down; however, to others, a round table is seemingly the only option.
My grandpa loved round tables. Any restaurant reservation included a special request for one, and if not granted, a disappointed stature would overwhelm him. "Grandpa, it's no big deal," we grandchildren would optimistically say, but grandpa would pretend not to hear us. His heart was set on the inviting nature of this round piece of wood, an environment where he could hear and see all who were present. A few months before grandpa was diagnosed with lung cancer, we were placed at a long, rectangular table for my dad's 50th birthday celebration. Grandpa and I were seated at one end of the table, essentially disengaged from the rest of the conversations due to distance, so instead, we'd crack jokes and guess what others were discussing. He smiled, shrugged, and laughed as he said, "I can't hear a damn thing, this is why God made round tables."
When you think of it, the man has a point. Not often are we able to sit around the ones we love and have a conversation without distraction. There are seldom moments where you can look someone in the eye as you're speaking, without the distractions of a cell phone, a busy agenda, or others passing by to say hello. Whether you are a working man or woman, an on-the-go college student, a high school teen figuring out life, or a young kid waiting to see what this world has to offer, our lives are chaotic and hectic. There is no escaping the whirlwind, except when it comes in the form of an hour at a restaurant with the ones you love. When you're seated at a round table, you can see every single human being seated, gearing conversations towards everyone present.
Now let me ask you again. You walk into a restaurant and you have the choice of any table; which would you pick? I'll give you my two cents. I will forever choose a round table because of the joy it brings me to surround myself with the ones I love, to share stories and memories that bring us such happiness, and to know the circle we form emulates the love and strength of our relationships. Where the beauty of these moments were once overlooked, I cannot escape their significance now. Especially as this holiday season is in full swing, I find myself wishing that seventh chair at the table was still filled by the man who spearheaded the idea of sitting at this round piece of wood.
It may seem silly, it may seem insignificant, and it may seem like an exhausted conversation about where to sit down in a restaurant, but until you fully embrace the experience, you will never understand. So cheers to this circular contraption, and cheers to you, grandpa, for teaching us that dinner conversations deserve to be shared, should be listened to by all, and should welcome all who are seated to join. Just another selfless thing I've learned from you and a tradition I'll continue, and attempt to pass along to others, for as long as I live.
