The Good, the Dad & the Ugly

At our house, Father’s Day has always been one of those holidays that sneaks up on us. That’s because, somewhat like that kid we all knew in school whose birthday happened around Christmas every year, both my and my youngest son’s birthdays are always right smack dab on or near Father’s Day. My father-in-law’s birthday is one week before and a favorite niece’s birthday is the day before mine. Throw in miscellaneous mid-June graduations, weddings and subsequent anniversaries and you’ve got the makings for a very busy, overscheduled month.

Nevertheless, I do have many outstanding Father’s Day memories.

For example, one of the all-time best Father’s Day gifts I’ve ever received is hanging on the wall above my desk as I write this. It’s a simple, framed certificate awarded to me 26 years ago by my dear wife and our two kidlets soon after we officially became a blended family. The certificate was written and signed by my wife and our then 4-year old son and daughter (one of hers, one of mine). Even though the precious signatures on it have long since faded away with age, to this day I tear up when I read the wonderfully uplifting and affirming things it says, like, “In appreciation of: The countless bedtime stories read complete with sound effects even if this is the fifth time in five nights we’ve picked a particular story.” What I wouldn’t give for the opportunity to do that sort of thing with those kids again. And again.

Another cherished Father’s Day memory is the whacky home video the same above-mentioned group made for me years ago while I was traveling down under in Australia on business. The video featured them singing, dancing and shouting out Father’s Day greetings. It was hilarious and touching and moving all at once. To return home and watch the video they’d made while I was so far away was simply priceless. Nothing bought from Brookstone or Bass Pro (aka: “Man-Land” around our house) could have topped it.

That said, I’m definitely not one to turn down gifts of any type or size. Especially presents like the new, bright yellow chain saw my two younger boys pooled their own money to buy for me at Home Depot one Father’s Day a few years ago. I mean, seriously ... does it get any more awesomely manly and testosterone-drenched than to receive a chainsaw as a gift from your two sons? Not hardly.

Father’s Day has been more than a little bittersweet for me since my own dad passed away nine years ago this month. To say that he was not the most sentimental of men would be like saying a block of ice is cold and hard. I always had the impression that he’d have been perfectly happy if Father’s Day, Christmas, anniversaries, even his own birthday could somehow come and go without a single person acknowledging the occasion. How very sad.

Maybe the capacity to feel and express emotions can skip generations, like recessive hairlines and blue eyes. If that’s so, I must have gotten what should have been my Dad’s portion of sentimentality in addition to my own. Just ask my family. I’m all too often an emotional train wreck looking for a place to happen – which, actually, can be a good thing when planning special occasions. That’s because it really doesn’t take much more than a hug and a heartfelt card or a phone call from far away family (sorry, but text messages and e-cards don’t count) to make my eyes flood as predictably and profusely as a backed up toilet with overnight guests on the way.

However, I do have my eye on a lovely turbocharged hedge trimmer with LED work lights and self-leveling laser guidance system. No, wait. The newly redesigned, super thin Macbook Pro would make a truly epic Father’s Day for me. In case anyone asks.  

I’ll see you ‘round town.

Note: This is a version of my column first published yesterday, 6.14.12, in the Crescenta Valley Weekly newspaper.

© 2012 WordChaser, Inc.

A Mother of a Day

Here’s a heads up to all fathers and sons reading this.* I have some news that could very well save your lives (or at least your marriages and/or otherwise important relationships with close relatives).

Ready? This Sunday is Mother’s Day. As in, a special day set aside each year by the powers that be (Hallmark and ProFlowers) to honor, acknowledge and otherwise heap thanks and praise upon the mothers in our lives. 

In my family we are blessed to have grandmas, step-grandmas, moms, step-moms, daughter-moms, daughter-in-law-moms and, well … I think that’s everybody. It’s going to be a busy Saturday at the card shop.

Over the years, my kids and I have tried to plan each Mother’s Day with its own unique and lasting memories. At least, I thought we had. A few minutes ago I asked my youngest son –  just home from college for the summer – what some of his fondest memories of past Mother’s Days might be. He put on his most studious, thoughtful and collegiate face and after a painfully quiet few moments said, “Uh, none really.”

Okay, then.

So anyway, in years past our family has gone out to dinner, made dinner at home, made brunch, had picnics at the beach, had picnics in the mountains and had picnics on the way to the beach or the mountains wherever the car happened to break down. We’ve gone hiking, gone biking, gone crazy – no wait, scratch that. We’ve gone to see a movie, taken long drives, stayed home and relaxed and enjoyed any number of other combinations of food, family and activities or non-activities, depending on Mom’s wishes for her special day.

When our kids were young, each occasion was more often than not accessorized in different ways with heartfelt, handwritten (and sometimes even readable!) notes from our loving progeny. Sometimes Mother’s Day even included gifts of handmade crafts including handprints in clay, grossly misshapen pencil holders and various and sundry useless (but priceless) gewgaws, doodads and dust catchers of every kind you’ll never find on Amazon.

And then, there was last year’s Mother’s Day. Readers may remember that last year at my house, our elegantly formal dinner in honor of Mom was interrupted quite dramatically by an uninvited guest of the rodent persuasion. Upon seeing the critter skitter along the floorboards in the room next to our dining room, quick-thinking Protector of Home and Hearth that I am, I calmly got up from dining table, folded my cloth napkin (I told you this was an elegant spread) and placed it on my now empty chair, grabbed the nearest wooden-handled broom – and summarily dispatched our mousy intruder to his untimely demise by swinging at the doomed thing repeatedly with all the focus and fury of Hank Aaron homer. Happy #%$*#@# Mother’s Day, Mickey!!

So alright, maybe it wasn’t exactly a sentimental memory for the mothers present at our table. But hey, it’s a memory. Hopefully this Sunday will be much less lethal and more serene for us all.

Okay, guys*. You’ve been warned. No excuses. Make me proud this Sunday. Go forth and honor that special lady – the mother of your children and/or your own mommy dearest. And while you’re at it – give thanks for moms everywhere. In addition to bringing you (and all of humanity, for that matter) into the world, the mere fact that they put up with messy rooms, missed curfews, stray puppies rescued and brought home, stray boyfriends/girlfriends rescued and brought home, tantrums (at all ages), mountains of dirty laundry and so much more makes them worthy of a special day of what I like to call the 3Rs: rest, recognition and reservations at the restaurant of their choosing.

Just make sure at the end of the day that you’ve left them grateful, highly impressed and if possible, even – close to tears at your all-out effort on their behalf. After all, Father’s Day will be here in only a month.

I’ll see you ‘round town.

* I’m directing these comments & thoughts primarily to guys because – in my experience – girls/women rarely have to be reminded of special occasions like Mother’s Day. Guys? Not so much.

Note: This is a version of my column first published yesterday, 5.10.12, in the Crescenta Valley Weekly newspaper.

© 2012 WordChaser, Inc.