Bowling Alone, Eating Alone: A Thanksgiving Day Reminder

The Pew Center for Applied Research reports that 74% of Americans will gather at the Thanksgiving table with other people. Approximately 5% will eat alone, many for reasons that are understandable—like work or travel. While those statistics speak to the practice of a national holiday, on the daily, 50% of Americans eat lunch alone—and at their desks. I would like this holiday to serve as a reminder of the importance of table fellowship and what is at stake when we eat alone. 

The Algonquin Round Table was a famous group of writers, critics, and actors who met
for lunch every day at the Algonquin Hotel in New York City during the 1920s

Harvard professor, political  scientist and the award winning author Robert Putnam wrote about the phenomena of bowling alone. In his book by the same name, he argues that American civic life has been declining since the 1960s. He reports that  while the number of people who bowl has increased, participation in bowling leagues has sharply decreased. In other words, people still do activities—they just do them more privately and less socially. More and more of us are bowling alone.

I would never think to bowl alone, but as the moderator of the S.I. bowling club, I have see people do just that. Solo bowlers usually have their AirPods in their ears as they quietly practice their game.

My friend Brook and I were talking about golfing alone during our round on Saturday. Neither of us is partial to it, though it’s not an unusual sight. For us, golfing solo feels compromises we enjoy about the game. This "long walk spoiled," is made enjoyable by the time in recreation  play, and even practice with others.

How we play and spend our leisure time is worth noticing and reflecting on—but so is how we share a meal. Bowling and golf are things we might choose to do in our “free time.” How we eat, where we eat, and with whom we eat are part of our daily lives, shaping our sense of connection and community—which is why the article from "YahooLife!" caught my attention.

Three-quarters of Americans who are employed by someone else do get a lunch break. About half of those people have paid lunch breaks, while half take lunch unpaid. In either case, the most common way that they spend their break is eating at their desk (50%). Just shy of 30% of workers go out for lunch on their own. 

During lunchtime, nearly half (44%) just eat, taking a break from screens and tasks to focus on their food. But 38% spend this time scrolling on their phones.

I read these stats and, although I wasn’t surprised, I felt disappointed. I shouldn’t have been—I live this reality. Even before my school began its major renovation, many of my colleagues regularly ate at their desks. Yes, our days are busy and our schedules are dictated by the bell, but I’ve always made a point of taking fifteen to twenty minutes to sit down and eat with my coworkers.

We have spirited conversations, dynamic ones. There are colleagues I look forward to talking to and others, well not so much. But, table fellowship is a fundamental for building community.

According to Elias, stepping away from your desk and sharing a meal is also good for your sense of connection to others. “When you’re enjoying something, even if it’s just a grilled cheese, in the company of other people enjoying things, it’s a kind of affirmation of your humanity,” she says. Eating together is a form of “community building in little ways,” Elias says, adding that it serves as a reminder that “we have something in common.”

We are nourished by much more than what the lunch room has to offer; we feed each other—with stories, comments and questions, jests and jokes. I miss out...we miss out by those who stay in their classroom or office. 

Today, I am certain that even more faculty and staff eat alone given that our wonderful faculty dining room is no more. When the Jesuit residence was torn down, this refuge for teachers—a house of hospitality for visitors that once lived in the Jesuit residence went with it. I have gone on record to say that the two things I care about most in our new building are the the chapel and the cafeteria/faculty dining space. I don't think these spaces are unrelated. Yes, classrooms are essential, but to underestimate either of those spaces is shortsighted.

In her book "Loyal Sons and Daughters: A Notre Dame Memoir," Sister Jean Lenz, OSF pays homage to a place where she regularly ate lunch and dinner—the Pay-Caf. She writes, 

Call it what you will –the Pay-Caf, the Oak Room, the legendary Oak Room, or the Night Oak–it was a public cafeteria situated between two student cafeterias in the South Dining Hall. This colorful eatery was where the university community intersected, mostly because of hunger for food and good company.

Pay-Caf gatherings and conversations at meal times made me more aware of what Father Hesburgh meant when I heard him speak on the quality of campus life. He insisted that a person could be admitted to Notre Dame, never attend class, and still emerge as an educated person four years later if he or she took advantage of the lectures conferences and other worthwhile activities outside the classroom and spend some time talking with professors and fellow students about their lives and interests.

I knew what Father Ted meant when I saw such professors as philosopher Joe Evans and English scholars Joe Duffy and his colleague Lou Nickelson, from out of the pages of Beowulf, hold court regularly at Pay-Caf tables. These were men who left long-standing impressions in the lives of those they taught.

One of the large round tables turned into what are referred to as The Algonquin table, a takeoff on the famed table of the same name in the New York Hotel, where you would never sit down unless invited. I never realize that this big table had that reputation. Actually, it was a storytelling table. One Sunday morning Jim Murphy, who was in charge of the crowd control in the Joyce Center, invited me to bring my tray to that table and in the process coaxed a Farley Hall story for me. It paid my table membership fee.

There were a number of good readers that gathered at that table who opened up worlds of discussion and storytelling on various topics including Notre Dame and South Bend politics, changes in the church, new books, movies, and sports. 

How I would love to sit at that fabled storytelling table—or at least be close enough to listen in. I’ve sat at enough dining hall tables, especially in places like the Oak Room, to know that good conversation, silliness, and laughter are contagious.

There’s a saying that "Jesuit education happens at tables." And although Notre Dame is run by the Congregation of Holy Cross, I think Father Ted would agree.

For those who are remain unconvinced, "it’s healthier to have a break from work and take your time while eating, rather than rushing through lunch. Though it may sound counterintuitive, research suggests that taking breaks at work can boost productivity (and well-being)."  Upon reading that information, I realized that although I break for lunch, I don't so much as even pause for breakfast. What has been deemed "the most important meal of the day" is one I actually eat while driving. That's a terrible habit. 

I look back fondly on the six to eight men—my former coworkers at St. Francis High School—who gathered every morning at 7:00 a.m. for something far richer than toast or cereal. Their daily coffee klatch, their own personal Pay-Caf, nourished more than hunger. It fed joy, friendship, and the bonds that form when people choose to sit down together.

That’s what gathering at a table with others can do. I hope your Thanksgiving meal offers the same.

Photo Credits

The Alogonquin Table
Bowling Alone
Oak Room
Stat Chart