The southern tradition was to tell stories of the day at dinner. My parents were from Texas and in the summers I went to stay with family out there. I learned about values, attitudes right there with my family.
We had all the stories in the world. History stories of family members, growing up ones about how someone did this or that. I loved those stories. They were important ones that became myth in nature. How Dad (Knocky Parker) found ragtime music downtown in Palmer, Texas. Stories about a photo of Dad in the bluebonnets. Stories of my mom and the watermelon thief and her grandmother sewing. I would never know anything about these people without the story. I thank my parents for those, and my cousin Rosemary and her family for raising me to love my family.
When uncles and aunts and parents are gone...we have their stories and they make me so happy I cry.
When I married my husband joined right in and we raised our kids on stories too. He had one story about
college friends on a trip, I'll tell later... and another about being a kid in in a spooky house when he attended Mira Costa High school( Manhattan Beach, California) I realize that they loved thinking of him as a kid and what he did at their age. His surf club member stories and some crazy stuff like jumping off the house on the pier into the water in Hermosa Beach or riding his bike off a roof into a swimming pool.
The kids wanted him to tell stories over and over.
Dinner time is still the time to catch up with our loved ones on the day. Never a rehersal of bad stuff but "good enough stuff "to share and value. What a tradition.