I don’t know if my parents got it from somewhere or came up with it themselves. But it’s worked wonders for me. My wife and I do it, and I look forward to continuing it with my daughter someday.

When I was growing up we would go around the table and say “three good things” about our day. The vagueness of “thing” was important to the exercise. It didn’t have to be an event or something that happened to you. It didn’t mean you had to choose something to be grateful for. You could choose something that had nothing to do with you. It just had to be “good,” and it had to be about today.

This was brilliant for a few reasons. It facilitated a conversation in which we shared our days with each other. I often talked about school, about what I learned that day or how my sports practice went. Dad usually talked about work. Sometimes it would be a good meeting, or he got off early, something like that. Mom’s three things were always varied, because she ran the household and completed all the errands. It was almost a reflection of the good out in our community.

The principal gathering place of my family growing up, my Granny's dining room table

As a kid it gave me insight into what my parent’s day-to-day looked like. Of course I had no idea at the time—I was just eager to hear what they were going to say. But it enabled me to peer into their lives and see them as people, not just parental figures with opaque inner worlds.

It also forced us to be positive and grateful, even if we had a bad day. I don’t have explicit memories of this, but I know there were times my parents forced me to say three good things on bad days. Even if I got in trouble at school, or did poorly on a test, or dropped the ball in practice, they would make me think of three good things, even if they were small.

And some days they were really small. Some days the three things don’t feel like they add up to a lot. But voicing them out loud and sharing them with your tribe helps you retain some appreciation for the day, for being alive. You could have the most horrible day, but it’s always possible to find three good things within it. Maybe you witnessed someone acting kindly to a stranger at the store. Maybe you hit all green lights on the way home. There’s always something. It’s a reminder that there’s good in the world.

This ritual began long before cell phones. Growing up we had this brown, Southwestern style table. Mom and Dad sat at the head and foot of the table, on the short sides, and my sister and I sat across from each other on the long sides. We would all be facing each other. We would sit down to eat dinner, without the TV on, without distractions. I remember how upset my parents would get if the phone rang during the meal. I think they felt our private, almost primal family time was being encroached upon. They would (get up and) answer the (corded) phone, and when it would inevitably be a telemarketer, they would angrily say to them, “our family is eating dinner right now we are not available” and hang up. Our friends and family knew to not call around six o’clock; that was dinner time.

Here are some examples of actual good things I’ve said or heard:

“I had my nitro cold brew this morning, and it was delicious” (it was a pretty bad day, and this was a bright spot)
“I got a raise today!”
“(So and so) wasn’t in my classroom today”
“I enjoyed practicing my piano today”
“The weather was great today”
“(Our friend) is doing better (in the hospital)”
“We’re sitting as a family eating dinner”

Society seems to be losing the sacredness surrounding dinner. With our phones constantly within reach, there are no longer any boundaries or private time, what we used to call “family time” growing up. People text at all hours and eat at all hours. When I was a kid, dinner was our family’s time, no one else’s. We would sit as a family and eat and talk.

And I get it. Our phones are designed to be addictive, there’s more to watch on TV than ever before, and our couches are comfortable. My wife and I want to eat on the couch in front of the TV less often. It’s a work in progress. But I also know there’s never been a meal at the table that I’ve regretted. I’ve never lamented, “man I really wish we sat in front of the TV tonight.” Not once.

San Francisco skyline from an old Instagram post of mine

When we do sit at the table together, we have an informal rule against phones. We often put on some relaxing background music, and then we sit and talk. And we ask each other about our three good things. It fosters communication and sharing. And something magical happens during that time together at the table.

There’s something intimate about eating with another person. Every culture eats meals together, and every culture celebrates holidays or holds traditions around food. It’s sacred to break bread with your tribe. It’s probably the most intimate thing you do with a person other than sleeping with them. That’s why dates often center around a meal. We even provide those on Death row a choice for the last meal. As Jack Nicholson’s insightful movie line goes, “you learn a lot, watching things eat.”

And I wonder… what if it was that simple for us to build a better, kinder, more inclusive society? What if simply eating with our families made us better people, more grateful people, more considerate people? What if sitting down and sharing our three good things impacted the world? What if it was that simple, sharing our three good things?

Thank you Mom and Dad, for showing me this practice. It’s had a measurable effect on my life. My heart swells fondly when I think back to those memories on “ordinary” nights, having dinner at the kitchen table, just the four of us. I am continuing the practice with my family now, and I hope it will always pass down.

What are your three good things from today?