I don’t think it’s my imagination that Father’s Day seems like a last-minute add-on.
“Oh! We have Mother’s Day. We probably should do something for fathers…”
On Mother’s Day, a bouquet of flowers or brunch seems to do nicely every year. There isn’t an equivalent gesture for Father’s Day. The gift suggestions now being advertised all seem a little desperate. A watch? A wallet? A gas grill? A “whiskey set”?
Since my dad’s watch and wallet are with him 90% of his waking life, I’m thinking he’d rather choose his own. A gas grill seems a bit much. (Mom gets eggs Benedict and dad gets a $1200 grill?) I’m not even sure what a “whiskey set” is but I know my dad wouldn’t drink whiskey if you paid him.
My dad has now spent more time retired than he spent working—which is a wonderful milestone. He was hired while he was still in college to work as an engineer and he stayed with the same company his entire career. My dad wore horn-rimmed glasses and carried a pocket protector and a slide rule in his shirt pocket. He sang bass in the church choir which meant he was always in the back row and I could only see him when he was stretching for a high note and got up on his toes to reach it.
My dad was always ready to try something new. He raised bees in the backyard and helped us dip candles in his workshop and polish agates in a tumbler. I remember the sound of the rock tumbler, polishing away, and a perfectly smooth agate coming out.
Then, every July when the plant where my father worked was shut down, my family would pile into the car pulling a pop-up camper and head out on vacation.
The story goes that my sister and I were quarreling. We generally got along pretty well but a full day in a hot car could get on anyone’s nerves. On this particular day, we were arguing about (of all things) who was going to get in the lake first once we got to the campground.
Dad was driving. Mom was sitting in the front seat with the dog. My sister and I were busy squabbling and no one saw my father as he quietly emptied his pockets, removed his belt, and silently unhooked his seatbelt. (This was before cars had all the buzzers and bells.) We drove ...
