A Day For Fathers

Father’s Day should be a private celebration of dad, not another consumer-oriented holiday (though not technically a holiday since, like Mother’s Day, it’s always on a Sunday anyway). That doesn’t mean one shouldn’t buy one’s father a gift—if you’ve made it and want to get your dad that Rolex he always wanted but never got around to buying, mainly because he was saving up to put you through school or get you started in a business, then go ahead and put it on his wrist on Sunday. Better yet, find a vintage one from the year you were born, and have it engraved. It could even say, “You could have had this, but you chose to have me.” A little crass, perhaps: you’ll know better what to say.

But most of us can’t buy our fathers Rolexes or Benzes, or even that house he always wanted—so we make do with brunch and maybe a tie or shirt he’ll probably never wear. It’s the thought that counts, yes, so how about some real thought? Like a letter to father—handwritten with a fountain pen—or if you fancy yourself a bard, a poem? It doesn’t matter if what you say isn’t particularly literary, or if it won’t appear one day in the “Collected Letters Of So-And-So”; your dad knows you, and will understand you, mangled grammar and syntax and all. It’s a present that has no value at all expect to him, can’t be returned, re-gifted, or sold at a yard sale, but it will probably stay with him until his last days.

It’s probably all I’d want from a son or a daughter, unless, of course, other than if they’d shop our General Store. (Or, if they could afford, and find, a mint condition 1957 Facel Vega FV4.)

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