Father's Day

I've never wanted to receive gifts for Father's Day. After all, the mere fact that a person has passed along genetic material to a new generation does not necessarily make him special or worthy of praise. What counts is how he performs his duties as a Dad, how much he loves his kids, and how successful he is in passing along his values as he helps his child grow to become an adult. If he does those things well, then I think the child might indeed want to consider showing his or her appreciation in some small way.

But not by giving the old man a tie. I mean, c'mon!

Anyway, in my case the jury's still out on whether I deserve any accolades at all for my parenting efforts. Granted, the kid hasn't yet gotten a swastika tattoo or thrown tomatoes at the Lincoln Memorial or set fire to the library...but he hasn't really demonstrated any civic responsibility yet, either. In other words, I'm still waiting for him to get a job!

But, if it turns out that my kid did want to show appreciation for all the strenuous effort I've put into role modeling and example setting -- all the diaper changing, playing catch, and "don't play with that or it'll put your eye out" shouting -- well, I'd still rather not receive some crummy little paperweight doodad, half-gallon jug of Hai Karate, or argyle socks. I'd prefer to have him suggest something fun for the two of us to do together.

He's eighteen, though. Offering suggestions that involve parents would be pure poison to the mind of a teenage boy. His sole contribution regarding the entire issue of Father's Day was to say, "I don't have to buy you anything, do I?"

No, son, I guess you don't.

But...it turned out that my brother was planning to pick up some heavy items from Lowes on Friday, and asked if I could help. Now, if you're a regular reader of this column, you know that manual labor and I don't get along very well. It's not that I'm afraid of exertion -- in fact, I seek it out on a daily basis -- but I tend to be somewhat Clouseau-esque when it comes to using tools and manipulating heavy objects. Somebody would probably get hurt.

Ah, but perhaps therein lies an opportunity...

I called Tanner and told him that he would be relieved of all additional Father's Day obligations if he accompanied Pat and I on the Lowes adventure. I can't say that he was enthusiastic about my offer, but at least he agreed to it. So early Friday morning, I loaded him into the car and drove over to the home improvement store.

Pat had already purchased his stuff -- a nice big double door set, some huge slabs of pressboard, and a couple dozen 2 x 4s. A helpful store employee used a forklift to hoist the entire load up to the level of the pickup bed, and the three of us manhandled the merchandise into the truck. Pat wrapped ropes around everything and used his Boy Scout knowledge to apply secure knottage, and declared it safe. We all piled in and took the short ride over to the destination house.

I am pleased to say that even without a forklift, unloading the truck resulting in only one minor injury -- and it wasn't to me. Tanner got a splinter in his finger, but thanks to Pat's Swiss Army knife, it was quickly tweezed and discarded. And I'm proud to say that Tanner did a good portion of the heavy lifting, and did it well.

Pat even paid him for his efforts, which was quite thoughtful, and probably contributed to the "get a job" motivation more effectively than all of my whining about how tough it is to get by in the world when you're a bum. We'll see. As I said, the jury is still out.

As for my own father, well I would argue that the results of his parenting are firmly on the plus side of the ledger. In my opinion, he definitely deserves recognition for his efforts as a dad. In fact, he'd probably appreciate it if I donated some manual labor to one of his projects, in the same way Tanner had just done. There are two problems with this solution, though: 1) manual labor and I don't get along, yadda yadda yadda, and 2) my dad lives in Wichita, Kansas. And while driving through western Kansas is an uninterrupted aesthetic delight (cough), the duration and expense of the commute makes it somewhat prohibitive. A trip to visit my dad requires some planetary alignment among budget factors, work, swim team obligations, and everybody's schedules.

In other words, my Father's Day visit with my pop is going to have to be in July or August this year. But I did have a nice long conversation with him on Sunday. He seems to be doing well, though he's as busy as ever. It was great to talk with him, and he seemed pleased to hear from me, too.

Even though I didn't buy him a tie.

To all the fathers out there, I know that parenting is a tough job, but it's important too -- and pretty darn rewarding. So keep it up, my friends! And have a great day!