“Buffet Lunch this Friday.”
Every once in a while at my son’s preschool, the teacher will cross the playground at pick-up time and ask,
“Can you join us for Buffet Lunch?”
“Today? Buffet Lunch?” I’ll ask in grateful disbelief, like I’ve just won the lottery.
I notice the mothers and fathers who, unlike me, saw the reminders on the white board or read the handout in their child’s folder. We pull our children off the play structures and eagerly proceed out the gate towards the dining hall.
No parent in her right mind would miss Buffet Lunch. These once-a-month meals take place in the adult day care center located downstairs from my son’s preschool. As part of the center’s intergenerational program, the elders invite the children and their parents to join them for lunch. The food is unremarkable, but the service is unforgettable. Namely, a kind, smiling person will set a plate of hot food in front of you and your child. A plate you had no part in conceiving or preparing. I don’t know if it’s the Stumble-Upon effect, or the rare fact that I’m flanked by both younger and older generations. But during Buffet Lunch, the clouds of Constant Responsibility part, and the caring hand of my late grandmother reaches down to recharge me with caloric jumper cables.
“More lemonade, Dear?”
“Yes, please!”
In a few weeks my son’s school will close its doors forever. The administration says that enrollment is down due to the economy. Come June, there will be no more Buffet Lunches. My husband and I feel as though we’re losing our only local partners in raising our children. We’re losing a community that has served as our extended family for four years. And I’m losing the occasional, treasured chance to have a seat at the kids’ table again.
With my grandmother, c. 1982.
One of the truly great gifts we sometimes have available to offer our child (and ourselves, btw) is the opportunity for communion with the generation older we, as parents, are. There is boundless, abundant wisdom and spiritual ballast for us and our children when multiple generations interact. This long view can allow LIFE to make sense and, yes, part the “clouds of Constant Responsibility”. JABA’s closing is a loss to the health and welfare of the entire Charlottesville community.
So sorry you’re losing them. I still miss Gordon Ave and all it gave us.
I will have you over for a nut-and-sesame-free buffet lunch here! We can make our school a new place of peace and somewhat intergenerational (hello, Miss Anderson?) community. We’ll be your partners in hair-raising kid rearing!