Remember Sunday when you were growing up? Maybe a lot of your families were like mine. Sunday was a special day. Sunday dinner was a special meal. It was almost always the best meal of the week. Mom put a roast of something (roast chicken, pork, lamb, beef) in the oven to cook all morning. Then the family went off to church.

When we returned around noon, the roast whatever was still cooking. But the aroma pervaded the house. And we three children couldn't wait to eat! Around one o'clock, when my sisters and I were famished, the whole family retired to the dining room -- a room we rarely used the rest of the week. The table was set with "the good china," the "good tablecloth," the "good silverware." And the meal was delicious.

Often around the table we would discuss the events of the week. F…