Beer Before Dinner

Our family took a trip to a nearby Druze village of Daliyat Al Carmel next to our hometown in Israel when the second intifada of 2002 was raging. The Druze, a minority Muslim sect, have always pledged allegiance to Israel and serve in the IDF, yet the spillover effect of the violence of was evident all around. Jews who normally flock to this mountaintop village for weekend souvenir shopping and eating hummus stayed away in droves because of the violence in the nearby territories.

So Daliyat was empty on what should have been a bustling Saturday. We entered into a restaurant, where the jovial owner greeted us warmly. These type of Mediterranean restaurants always start with a large platter of meze and a pitcher of hot mint tea. Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the village, but something came over me and I poured tea to all my family members, starting with my dad and going down the line.

The owner, who was in the middle of serving, almost dropped the plates, put his hand over his chest, and proclaimed that act warmed his heart, and that it was very rare nowadays to see this happening with the younger generation. It seemed genuinely heartfelt, though my mother later remarked it was a cynical ploy for a larger tip. A bit doubtful, since we were the first and probably last customers that slow day.

I was then reminded of this watching a scene from this year’s movie “Tokyo Sonata”, where the family sits down to eat dinner (being a Japanese movie – food is given a very important consideration, almost another actor), and nothing happens, not a word is spoken, the food remains untouched on the table, until the father is poured a beer by his son. Only then everyone digs in, chopsticks flying.

That’s pretty cool. I like that idea of demonstrating every day family obligation and respect. When I broached this idea to Jaclyn, she objected, not because of the idea itself, but because only the father is respected in this scenario. “Well, what if the kids have to do something for both Mom and Dad? Is that OK?” Yes, very much so, apparently.

But then, what if the kids don’t feel like pouring the parents a drink before dinner is served, was her second question. Well, if the kids don’t feel like pouring us a drink, giving the parents a token measure of respect, we won’t feel like feeding them. A bit harsh, it may seem, but a growling stomach is a great teacher. (it doesn’t have to be just beer – whiskey is OK as well – Jaclyn’s fine with tap water).

Reactions from friends and relatives to our future family dinner plans have ranged from highly enthusiastic approval to downright shock. My personal take is it’s easier to drill kids into doing something routine, an act, rather than talk about it. After all, aren’t all acts of kindness and respect necessarily small acts that convey large meanings? And the village of Daliyat, I’m happy to report, is once again packed on summer weekends – we’ll be back soon to the same restaurant as soon as our kids learn some respect by pouring a beverage.