Dian' to Share

We like to argue our points of view in my family.

My mom had to create a rule when I was a kid that there would be no arguing or raised voices at the dinner table. We didn’t always stick by the rule.

You never really knew when Mom would have to turn referee and call a change of subject into play because a discussion had taken a confrontational turn.

Things haven’t changed.

My brother came through town this morning on a trip from Washington, D.C. to Asheville. We had just enough time to fit in a family breakfast at Main Street Cafe in Lincolnton.

A seemingly innocent meal soon turned into a debate. Those leading the debate were my brother, my father and me. Trying to vocalize our opinions on responsibilities by city council members, my nephew had to break the tension by spilling a cup of milk.

OK. So it didn’t break the tension for my brother, but it ended the debate.

We agreed to disagree.

Hugs, kisses and waves wrapped up the get-together and I walked away with a sense of nostalgia. I’m not sure that my brother appreciated my point of view, but I sure enjoyed returning to my roots.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.