Family therapists used to ask patients about their family meals in helping them understand their relationships. Apparently those questions are less relevant now because families don’t eat together enough to draw conclusions in many cases. This is how Les and Leslie Parott introduced their book The Hour That Matters Most.

Parents may consider meals a challenge: children crying, refusing to eat, or generally acting ornery. Apparently it’s worth the effort.

Studies have shown, the Parotts say, that dining together decreases the likelihood that the children will do drugs, become involved in promiscuous sexuality, or suffer serious depression.

Not every meal has to be a seven-course banquet. Simple meals may even be healthier: a salad thrown together, tuna sandwiches, and fruit for dessert.

Frankly, I’ve never found cooking as much fun as some do. Neither did my mother. We often had hastily prepared meals—canned corned beef hash or pork chops with mushroom soup and canned green beans, but we ate at least one meal together each day, more on weekends.

I’m glad she made the effort. I remember how pleasurable the talk was at the table (once we children grew into a more civilized state). Our discussions were civil, on just about anything and everything: politics, community, church activities, school activities, world events, and so on. We conversed, in other words.

Dining together promises a relatively easy way to promote healthy families. We all have to eat.