One of my absolute top goals during my sabbatical was to take advantage of space and to spend more focused time with my family. My regular work schedule, while incredibly rewarding, meant that my days often started before my boys woke up, leaving just a quick and uncertain window for dinner before their homework and my professional evening commitments—like Zoom calls—took over.
I feel truly privileged to have the opportunity to collaborate with so many brilliant minds globally, all working to improve care for children with spine problems. However, dedicating so much energy to this mission often cuts into family time. That’s why we’ve always made one thing a non-negotiable priority: family dinner.
I come from an Italo-American background where dinner was sacrosanct. I still cherish the memory of my father, an orthopedic surgeon, calling home—back when phones were mounted on the wall!—with the simple, long-awaited news: “Drop the pasta.” That was our Italian signal that he was 8 to 10 minutes away, just enough time for the water, which was already boiling in anticipation, to cook the pasta.
Times have evolved. Household roles are wonderfully blurred now—I actually prefer being the one who “drops the pasta” (or handles the cooking!) whenever I can. But with today’s after-school sports and activities, those precious small windows when we can all sit down and connect are few and far between.
Yet, the evidence is overwhelming and clear: peer-reviewed studies published in top academic journals confirm a strong link between frequent family meals and tremendous benefits. We’re talking about improved mental health (less depression, anxiety, and disordered eating), lower substance use rates for kids, better diet and nutrition, improved socialization, and stronger academic performance. As Ronald Reagan famously captured it in his 1989 Farewell Address: “All great change in America begins at the dinner table.”
These positive effects are especially pronounced for adolescents and teens. Studies suggest that just three sit-down meals a week (free of cell phones and TV) provide the “minimal dose” to start seeing measurable, lasting positive changes. Get to seven dedicated meals a week, and the results become incontrovertible! Seven is certainly ambitious, especially if lunch is off the table and breakfast is a weekend luxury.
So, leveraging the unique opportunity of my 10-week sabbatical, I implemented a structured plan that included regular breakfast with the kids and a formal send-off before they drove off to school. My mornings still began with my 5:40 AM alarm, but the difference was immediate and delightful.
Instead of the usual quick shower consumed by planning complex clinical navigation, I had the luxury of some time on the Peloton and then shoulder physical therapy. I’d return just in time to get the morning frying pan warmed up. During this protected time, I sipped endless coffee and enjoyed calm, unhurried conversations with my children over eggs or pancakes, discussing their day ahead and how they felt about it.
And as they pulled out of the driveway, I had the privilege of giving them a formal salute on their way to school—initially with my left arm in a sling, and then, joyfully, with my newly functioning arm. That simple gesture—the salute—became our shared celebration of this unique time and space. It’s a memory, a feeling, and a profound connection that I will truly treasure long after the demands of the operating room call me back.
