Pull Up a Chair: August 14, 2026

Pull up a chair and stay awhile. I’ve been thinking about conversations lately, and I’ve come to one conclusion that I don’t think anyone can convince me otherwise. The best conversations never start with small talk.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Small talk has its place. It’s perfectly fine when you’re standing in line at the grocery store or waiting for a doctor’s appointment. Talking about the weather or asking how someone’s day is going fills the silence and makes the world feel a little friendlier.

But that’s rarely where the conversations worth remembering begin.

Think about the people you enjoy spending time with the most. I’ll bet when you get together, you don’t spend an hour discussing whether it’s going to rain this weekend. Before long, someone says something that takes the conversation in an entirely different direction.

“Do you remember when…”

“I’ve been thinking about…”

“Can I ask you something?”

That’s when things get interesting.

Some of my favorite conversations have happened around kitchen tables long after the meal was over. The plates had been cleared, someone had poured another glass of sweet tea, and nobody seemed to be in any hurry to leave. Those were the evenings when stories started coming out. Somebody would remember something from years ago, another person would tell the same story from a completely different perspective, and before you knew it everyone was laughing because nobody could agree on what had actually happened.

Family memories have a funny way of changing over time. I don’t think anyone is intentionally rewriting history. We just all remember different pieces of the same story.

That’s part of what makes those conversations so much fun.

I think we’ve lost a little bit of that in recent years.

We’re busy. Everyone has somewhere to be. Meals are often squeezed between appointments, errands, and work. We check our phones while we’re talking because we’re afraid we might miss something important.

The funny thing is, the important thing is usually sitting right across the table from us.

I’ve caught myself doing it.

Someone is telling me about their day, and my phone lights up with a notification. It only takes a second to glance at it, but that second tells the other person something whether I mean it to or not.

It says this conversation can wait.

I don’t like that.

The older I get, the more I realize people remember how we made them feel far longer than they remember what we actually said. We’ve all had conversations where we walked away feeling heard. We’ve also had conversations where we felt like the other person was simply waiting for their turn to talk.

Those are two very different experiences.

One of the things I enjoy most about living in a small town is that conversations still happen naturally. You run into someone at the grocery store and ask how they’re doing. Ten minutes later you’ve heard about their grandkids, the tomatoes in their garden, and the vacation they’re planning for next month.

Nobody planned that conversation.

It just happened.

I wish more of life worked that way.

I’ve noticed that some of the best conversations in my own life have started with unexpected questions.

Not, “How are you?”

That’s almost become automatic. We ask it without thinking, and most of us answer the same way.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m good.”

“Busy.”

The conversation usually ends right there.

But ask someone what made them laugh this week, and you’ll probably get a story.

Ask what they’re looking forward to this month, and you’ll learn something about them.

Ask what book they’re reading, what recipe they’ve been wanting to try, or what place they’ve always wanted to visit, and suddenly you’re having a real conversation instead of exchanging polite greetings.

Questions matter.

They open doors that small talk never reaches.

I’ve also learned that good conversations don’t require perfect words. In fact, some of the best ones wander all over the place. They start with one topic, take three unexpected detours, and somehow end somewhere completely different.

That reminds me of conversations with my brother.

We’ll get in the Jeep planning to talk about one thing, and before we’ve made it ten miles we’ve somehow covered old family stories, something we saw on the side of the road, whether barbecue tastes better from one little restaurant than another, and what we’d do if we ever won the lottery.

None of it is planned.

That’s what makes it enjoyable.

The same thing happens around here with Ma and Uncle R. If you’ve been reading Rita Reviews for very long, you already know that one simple question can turn into a story that takes every scenic route possible before finally reaching the point.

Sometimes I honestly wonder where the conversation is headed.

Then, twenty minutes later, we’ll all be laughing because somebody remembered something that happened years ago, and the original question has been completely forgotten.

I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

They’re messy.

They’re unpredictable.

They’re real.

I think that’s another reason I enjoy writing this Friday series so much. When I started “Pull Up a Chair,” I wanted it to feel less like reading an article and more like sitting on the porch with a friend. The best porch conversations don’t have an agenda. Nobody is trying to impress anyone. You’re simply talking because you enjoy each other’s company.

That’s becoming a little rare these days.

We’re surrounded by opinions. Everywhere we look someone is trying to convince us to buy something, believe something, or argue about something.

Sometimes it’s nice to simply have a conversation.

No debate.

No agenda.

Just people sharing stories.

One thing I’ve started doing more often is asking older family members questions about things I never thought to ask when I was younger.

What was your first job?

How did you meet?

What was your favorite meal growing up?

What games did you play as kids?

The answers are almost always better than I expected.

You don’t just learn facts. You learn pieces of people.

You discover the stories that shaped them long before you came along.

I wish I had started asking those questions years earlier.

There are conversations I’ll never get to have now, and that’s one of the reasons I encourage people to ask while they still can.

Not because you’re collecting history.

Because you’re collecting memories.

If there’s one thing I’d love to see happen more often, it’s families lingering at the table after dinner. Leave the dishes for a little while. Pour another glass of tea. Ask one good question and see where it leads.

You might end up hearing the story you’ve never heard before.

You might learn something about someone you’ve known your entire life.

Or you might simply laugh until your stomach hurts over a memory that gets funnier every time it’s told.

Either way, I don’t think you’ll remember what the weather was that day.

You’ll remember the conversation.

And in the end, I think that’s what we’re all really looking for. Not perfect words or perfectly planned evenings, but those moments when someone feels comfortable enough to tell a story, ask a question, or share a memory that reminds us why we gathered around the table in the first place.

Those are the conversations worth having.

Those are the ones that stay with us long after the coffee cups have been emptied and the porch lights have been turned off.