" Brain Farts " It was the custom, at our house, to sit quietly around the dinner table, after a leisurely supper, and talk of the events of the day. Subjects as wide ranging as the computer technology, of remote control Dentistry, and the difficulty of raising autistic children, would receive careful analysis and comment. My Father usually led the discussion, but it could often spread with the intensity of a wildfire. Sometimes, the conversation took on a life all its' own, as a barrage of ideas and comments were lobbed back and forth across the peach cobbler. New faces at the dinner table, in the person of friends and relatives, meant new perspectives and differing opinions. We welcomed them all, with the gusto of a pride of lions looking over a prospective kill. Nobody got away with generic statements or half formed opinions. If you were rash enough to open your mouth and offer comment, it was expected that you would explain and if necessary, defend your position. The give and take wasn't acrimonious, just spirited debate and honest curiosity.
