—The teacher _________.

Table Talk

As we got out of the car, our son announced, "Phones stay in the car."

"Why do you always have to tell us that?" complained our fifteen-year-old grandson.

Our son's wife winked at us and then explained, "We have a family1 that no one may bring anything electronic to the table."

We 2 our phones in the car. Even though the restaurant was filled with families, there was little noise. All I heard were a few quiet conversations and the ding of forks on plates. The 3 unnerved me. I looked around. Everyone, even the young kids, was 4 at some kind of screen. 

The silence was broken when the six of us sat down, and started talking. The waitress stood patiently and waited for our orders. When our food came, we continued to chat. 

An elderly couple at the next table were finishing their dinners and conversing quietly. I noticed that they shot us a few glances, and wondered if our constant chatter was annoying them. 

After the dessert, my son signaled the waitress for the check. She hesitated when she brought the black folder to our table. My son opened the black folder — it was5 . "You forgot the check," he told her.

"There isn't one. Someone else6 your bill — and the tip too." she said with a giggle (咯咯笑).

"Why?" asked our son, his wife and myself at once.

"They loved it that no one was connected." she continued. "They loved watching you guys7 . The old lady went on and on about how nice it was to see a family eating and talking instead of looking at ‘electric games'."

For a moment, everyone at our table was at a loss for8 . Then we all started talking at once. My son's voice rose above the others. "Where are they? We want to thank them."

"They left after you ordered dessert," the waitress replied.

We spent the next fifteen minutes discussing this goodness and camp up with a 9 . Next time we see a family eating at a restaurant 10 looking at anything electronic, we'll pay it forward, just like what happened to us.

When I was a child my father taught me five words that I've used all my life — in my acting career, as a mother, in my business activities. If I 1 that I was afraid of the dark, or if I seemed worried about meeting new people, Dad would say, "Stand porter to your 2 . "

A porter is a gatekeeper who stands at a door letting people in or out. Dad would get me to picture myself stopping 3 things — such as fear — at the door, 4 saying "Come in" to faith, love and self-assurance.

As an actress, before I went on camera, I'd make sure anxiety stayed out and confidence in my ability came in. As a mother, when I was anxious about my children, I would try not to let worry in but would 5 my mind with trust in them.

Of course, there were always times I'd 6 those words.

In 1972 my husband, Fillmore Crank, and I opened the doors to our own 7 in North Hollywood. This was a new business venture for us, and it was a lot more 8 and complicated than we had 9 .

We were on call 24 hours a day. Something was always going 10 . Electricity went on the blink (失灵), food wasn't enough, employees called in sick. Once, a flu epidemic suddenly left us with no maids. Fillmore gave me a choice: scrub (擦洗) floors or do the laundry. For 10 days I folded enough sheets to 11 the whole state of California.

Then there was the 12 crisis. The price of gasoline doubled, and tourism in California 13 . How could we fill our beds? What if we kept losing money? What if we failed? Fear and worry were sneaking in. But I caught them just 14 I stood porter.

I stood in the door of my mind and sent fear packing.

These days at the hotel, whenever fear tries to 15 , I just smile and point to the sign that reads "No Vacancy".