Supper

The Gilbert family is seated at their wooden table, each member's plate holding a meal of mashed potatoes, stirfry and boneless pork chop. Most of the family is adhering to the customary manners of the day. The middle boy Nolan, however, is not. The mother looks up from her meal and notices that the young lad has one knee at chest height, pressed against the table, his foot firmly planted on the seat of his chair. The chair's front legs are hovering slightly above the floor. In Nolan's hand is an upturned steak knife with which he has skewered his slab of pork. Dispensing with the fork he has opted to simply rip off chunks with his teeth. The mother regards this behavior as unacceptable and curtly calls his name. "Nolan!" The boy's eyes meet hers as she continues. "Nolan, let us not eat like barbarians." In the midst of familial laughter he delivers a quick reply. "Well, Mom, our ancestors were Vikings." This is true and the mother can do nothing but shake her head and wish that in those 900 years there had been some social advances that had been passed through the generations.