When I was a boy, we would often have family gatherings at my Aunt Lillian’s ranch in Marble Falls, TX. The days consisted of children running around the pastures, playing in the barns, riding horses, chasing chickens and generally behaving as children do. In those days we weren’t interested in what the grown-ups were doing, unless they were trying to shut down our shenanigans or dampen our rowdiness.
The meals at a family gathering were spectacular. There was so much food. A lot of it had been cooking all day, whether the meat in Uncle Bud’s smoker, or the large pot of something wonderful that had been sitting on Aunt Lillian’s stove for hours. There was a particular tradition we had at family gatherings, what in later years I called the Tale of Two Tables.
First, of course, there was the Grown-ups Table. Here all the adults sat, and ate, and laughed and talked about whatever it was adults talked about. But there was also the Kids Table. It was generally smaller (because so were we), and there was less stuff on the kids table. No glass; plastic cups only. No sharp silverware. And we took our plates to the grown-ups table and loaded them up, and often times the grown-ups put things on our plate that caused us to make faces. We did not know - or care - that some of these things were good for us, and that we might actually begin to enjoy them (or least tolerate them) if we were willing to open our minds a bit. But we were children; we believed we alone knew what was good for us, and we resented anyone telling us differently. Our minds were not closed, per se. We were just immature and stubborn.
A hard and fast rule of the Two Tables was that the Grown-Ups Table was reserved for grown-ups only. No exceptions. Any child who tried to impose themselves at the grown-ups table was very quickly relegated back to his or her place among the kids. “Go sit at the kids table,” we would be told. “Grown-ups are talking.” The conversation at the two tables was, of course, very different. The grown-ups always seemed to be talking about grown-up things. There wasn’t always agreement at the grown-ups table, I noticed, but they seemed to handle their disagreements very different than we at the kids table. When a disagreement broke out at the kids table, the first response was almost always name calling. This led to taunting, and trying to quickly recruit as many other kids at the table to join our side in the taunting and name calling. If that failed to produce the desired result, things quickly escalated to hair-pulling, Indian rug burns, and flat-out fist fights. Those kinds of things never happened at the grown-ups table.
With the benefit of hindsight, I can now understand the Tale of Two Tables. I understand why it was necessary for the kids to remain at their own table. Children, with very few exceptions, often behave exactly like they are supposed to - as children. They are impulsive, opinionated about things they know actually very little about, they are prone to emotional responses, they have not yet learned how to reason, how to properly construct a persuasive argument, or how to control their often volatile feelings. Perfectly natural. For a child. Which is why the kids table is such a brilliant idea. You don’t have to be reasonable at the kids table. You can say the most outrageous things, the most provocative things, things that have no basis in reality. And you can say them as often and loudly as you like - or at least until another kid comes up with something even more outrageous, and the attention at the kids table swings in a different direction. Simplicity and fantasy rule supreme at the kid’s table. The grown-ups table is the place for complexity and nuance.
Or, it used to be.
And now, dear reader, I shall attempt to bring my parable full-circle. It has come to pass, in my lifetime, that the kids have taken over the grown-ups table. And it has become intolerable.
I’m sure it didn’t happen all at once. It probably started with some well-meaning grown-up, who looked over at the kids table and saw a child crying, and seemingly inconsolable. And rather than let the child work through their own emotions (or maybe because the adult was worried that the crying child would upset the other kids at the table), the adult got up, walked over to the kids table, and brought the child back to the grown-ups table.
But then another grown-up looked over at the kids table, and saw two kids fighting. And rather than let the two kids work it out, the grown-up went over to the kids table, snatched up one of the fighting children, and brought them back to the grown-ups table. And so it went. Pretty soon, there were more kids sitting at the grown-ups table, and that was when grown-up conversation started getting interrupted by the emotional outbursts of children, wanting attention and wanting to be acknowledged, and not bound by the grown-up conventions of respect, civility, reason and compromise. Grown-up conversation began to decline. Some grown-ups actually began to mimic the behavior of their children; civil dialogue was replaced by yelling over each other. Reason was overtaken nearly completely by emotion. Facts were dispensed with, in favor of fantasy. Before we knew it, the Grown-ups table looked and sounded like the Kids Table.
I believe it is time - it is very much time - to take back the Grown-Ups Table.
This begins when we begin to remember what the Grown-Ups Table used to look and sound like. As mentioned earlier, the grown-ups didn’t always get along. In fact, the grown-ups were rarely in unanimous agreement about anything. But the way in which they worked through their differences was what separated them from the kids table. To wit: respect, civility, reason and compromise. These are the opposite of yelling, name-calling, emotional whinging (I love that word), etc. The Grown-Ups Table was a place where grown-ups would talk about important things like grown-ups. Any un-grown-up like behavior was rewarded with a trip to the kids table, where it was perfectly normal (and accepted) to behave like a child. In order to take back the grown-ups table, we must agree on only two things: 1) we behave in word and deed as grown-ups; and 2) when we encounter behavior that is non-grown-up like, we respectfully but firmly send the transgressor(s) back to the kids table. We have to be willing to say, “Go sit at the kids table. Grown-ups are talking.”
So let us begin with some fairly obvious examples that differentiate the Two Tables.
If you are unwilling or unable to actively listen to another person speak reasonably on a subject whose views are different than your own - if you resort to name-calling, shaming, personal attacks on character, etc. - you go sit at the kids table. Such tactics are the purview of children, and have no place among the grown-ups.
If you get your information about the world, and how it works, and what is happening, and to whom, from a single source - whether it is NPR, Fox, CNN, the Bible, Twitter, the Koran, etc. - please go sit at the kids table. Grown-ups understand that the world is incredibly complex, and often complicated, and they understand the importance of multiple points of view (some journalistic, some opinionated) in order to arrive at their own, reasoned position. Grown-ups regularly question what they are told, and actively search for truth and accuracy. Grown-ups also understand that this is work, and that this kind of intellectual exercise is actually something of a civic duty. Thomas Jefferson said it rightly: “If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be.” If you do not possess the will or capacity to be an informed citizen, you’ll be happier at the kids table, anyway.
Wherever you exist on the political or religious spectrum, if you are the kind of person who thinks that the memes you post on social networks are a legitimate and fully-formed expression of your views, please go sit at the kids table. You are not ready to have a grown-up conversation on complicated issues, and grown-up conversations are what’s needed at this particular moment in our history. The only exception is satire, but if you’re not exactly sure what satire is, please keep it at the kids table.
If you are the kind of person who believes that civility and compromise are weaknesses, you go sit at the kids table. While you are there, please pick up a book on American History. Your country was built upon the twin pillars of civility and compromise. The founding fathers did not believe them to be weaknesses, and neither should you. When debating serious issues with your fellow citizens, if at any time you think “Win big or go home!”, or “All or nothing!,” or “If you’re not with us, you’re against us!”, then please know that your sentiments are perfectly welcome - at the kids table. Grown-ups understand that it is indeed possible to be persuaded by a well-reasoned, civil argument. Grown-ups understand that it is possible to change one’s mind about a particular position. Grown-ups also understand that it is perfectly normal and acceptable to be passionate about a subject or subjects, and yet to discuss them without resorting to tantrums and screaming. Lastly, grown-ups understand a vital, often overlooked reality of the grown-ups table: we almost never get everything we want. To scream or cry or complain, or claim injustice or unfairness about that reality is to earn a seat at the kids table.
If you are the kind of person who believes that the way you feel about things is more important than objective reality - that is, the kind of reality that can be measured, verified by multiple sources, etc. - you go to the kids table. Believing in the utter reality of your emotions is the definition of child-likeness. It is imminently useful for creative pursuits, or escapism. As children many of us believed absolutely in monsters under the bed (mine was in the closet), invisible friends, unicorns, superheroes, and the infallibility of our own perceptions. Then we began to mature; we learned that the world was infinitely more complex than we thought it was when we were kids. We learned (or we should have been learning) the value of questioning what we had been told or taught. As grown-ups, it is not necessary for us to put away our sense of wonder, our love of imagination, or our feelings. But it is absolutely necessary to acknowledge that the way you feel about a certain thing does not make it right or proper or real in the world. “You have your truth, I have my truth” is a sentiment that belongs at the kids table, because that sentiment does not help grown-ups to solve very real problems, and it does nothing to move us all forward in the effort to make the world a better place.
And, lastly: if you are the kind of person who feels affronted, or offended, by an apolitical, non-religious essay on the state of our inter-personal communications, and how to improve them for the betterment of civilization - go sit at the kids table. Grown-ups understand that it is acceptable - even necessary - to question and criticize ideas and beliefs. And that this is not the same thing - at all - as criticizing another human being. You, personally, are not under attack at the Grown-Ups Table, but your ideas and beliefs about things may very well be. If you are unable to distinguish the difference - and, if you are unable to limit your criticism to ideas, and not people - then you need to learn this skill. The place for that is at the kids table. It is not arrogant, snobbish or elitist to insist that disagreements about very real and important things can and should be worked out through civil discourse. What it is, is acting like a grown-up. And we very much need grown-ups right now.
Remember, there are only two things we need to agree on to take back the Grown-Ups Table. We need to behave as grown-ups, and we need to address any non-grown-up like behavior with a fair but firm admonition:
“Go sit at the kids table. Grown-ups are talking.”
