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President Bush wants me to eat dinner with the kids tonight. So does his brother, our governor. They issued proclamations or resolutions designating today as "Family Day - A day to eat dinner with your children."
Leave it to government to endorse a Monday for a special occasion. What was wrong with Sunday, when we were all winding down from a weekend of rest and recreating and planning to sink our teeth into something cooked on the lanai grill and covered in barbecue sauce?
Probably didn't want family and football to conflict. I'm guessing tailgating doesn't count as quality family time.
Family Day's intent is to promote eating together as a way to increase communication between adults and their offspring and thereby reduce smoking, substance abuse and other risky behavior by children and teenagers. A noble goal, certainly. But the way government is jumping on this thing strikes us as just a tad disingenuous considering money for anti-tobacco campaigns for youths went up in smoke in Tallahassee just a few years ago.
It's gotten so frustrating that anti-tobacco groups want voters to change the state Constitution to mandate funding for smoking prevention programs.
Or, we can sit down for dinner.
The Family Day's target audience is a household like ours: Two working parents and a couple of active schoolage children, which makes breaking bread together an infrequent occurence.
Let's see, we won't be eating dinner together this evening because the 12-year-old will be at church for his weekly religious education class. Call it our own faith-based initiative. Hopefully, this will keep him grounded enough so he won't swig beer after missing dinner with his mom and dad to spend supervised time with other seventh- and eighth-graders.
Good chance I won't be there anyway. Keeping the kids off dope is important. Keeping dad off the davenport is imperative also. Regular exercise is vital for good health, particularly for people now closer to 50 than 40. Monday evening is usually my own time to play basketball. Dinner is out. Afterward, my only appetite is for ibuprofen. Surely, our president, he of the bicycle jaunts and workout regimen, will appreciate this commitment to sweat. Not all of us can blow off big chunks of the work day to peddle around.
Tuesday is no good for dinner, either. The 8-year-old gets his dose of deity those evenings. Yet again, I won't be there. The 12-year-old and I have to head to soccer practice 14 miles away and he eats early to ensure the food is settled before the workout. It's still a productive evening, though. Junior learns the value of hard work, dedication and being a team player. By the end of practice, he is too out of breath for a cigarette, anyway.
Wednesday might work even though the kids have art lessons after school. Their mother insists on the creative stimulation and who's to argue, considering the limited opportunity for electives in Florida's public schools.
Sometimes, however, the kids are famished by the time the art class concludes so we break down and treat them to fast-food drive-through on the ride home. Does it count as a family meal if they eat burgers and McNuggets in the backseat while one of the parents is driving?
Forget Thursday. The middle schooler is back on the soccer fields. His mother won't be home, anyway. She has a class each Thursday evening. Cutting class isn't an option. She needs it to retain her eligibility to teach.
Friday. The work week is over and so are the activities. No classes, no sports. But, the past two Fridays, the seventh-grader accompanied class chums to church-affiliated activities. Swell, a preteen with a social life. Maybe he'll squeeze in a meal with the folks and his sibling, or maybe he won't.
It's irrelevant, anyway. The orthodontist just started crafting a straightened smile for him and the new contraption in his mouth is limiting his ability to ingest solid food this week. Soup and pudding have been his typical fare.
We should probably make plans for next Saturday. The calendar appears open at this point. If I can just get the better half to clear her lesson plans, test papers and grade book off the table, there will be room for placemats, dishes, glasses and silverware.
We cook less since she re-entered the work world a few years ago. Elementary school teaching is the vocation she chose to help put the proverbial food on the table.
Too bad we're hardly ever there to eat it.
--C.T. Bowen is editor of editorials of the Times' Pasco County editions. Reach him at bowen@sptimes.com or at 727-869-6239.