FATHER’S DAY

by Patrick Dykie

      I’ve decided to post a Father’s Day story a week early. This will give all you wives and children plenty of time to prepare for the big day. It may also help you realize that though we may not say it; Father’s Day is very important to us men with families. If you think about it, Americans have a federal holiday for George Washington the father of our country, and even one for Christopher Columbus. There is even a special day on January first which celebrates hangovers, football, the invention of aspirin, chicken wings, and the fact that the world as well as ourselves miraculously survived another year. I figure that the least we can do is go all out for all  those special men in our lives. Why don’t all you people who love your fathers go out and find something special for them. I hear Wal-Mart has a sale on ties, bright, flourescent polo shirts, huge tee-shirts with weird sayings, and after shave in gallon jugs.   

 

“Oh my God! Three-Hundred Viagra tablets. I’m so happy, I think I’m going to cry.”

     It will soon be time for that magical, special, magnificent, and wondrous day that all men dream about for three hundred and sixty-four days of the year. No, I’m not talking about their wedding anniversary or their wife’s birthday. Come on people; wake up! I’m talking about Father’s Day. It’s traditionally celebrated on the third Sunday in June. This year Father’s Day falls on June 17. I know some fathers that celebrate this day every Sunday of the year. It’s called golf. For all you golfers out there, remember to read your card before you hit the links on June 17.

     What actually is Father’s Day, and how did it come about. I looked up Father’s Day in Wikipedia. It says it’s a celebration honoring fathers, and celebrating fatherhood, paternal bonds and the influence of fathers in society. It also celebrates male parenting and is meant to complement Mother’s Day. Do you think there are some upset mothers out there right now? It doesn’t seem too fair to give fathers a whole day, does it?

     Mothers are the ones who carry a baby in their stomach for nine long months, endure morning sickness and weight gain, give birth to kids with heads like beach balls while enduring excruciating pain, stay up all night when they’re sick, worry about them constantly, and are there to kiss the boo boos when they’ve hurt themselves. How come men get a whole day just like you? Maybe we should have mother’s week. How about we just shorten Father’s Day to father’s hour?

     We could wake good old dad up, hand him a card and a bagel, tell him we love him, and then go back to our video games. Besides, he has the lawn to cut, trash to take out, and a garden to plant. Don’t forget the door that needs fixing, the washing machine that’s messed up, and the car that needs a wash and a wax. Come on Dad. You had your special hour. Now stop complaining, get out of bed, and get back to work.

     I read that a woman named Sonora Smart Dodd, on June 19, 1910, after listening to a Mother’s Day sermon began to push for a Father’s Day celebration. She wanted to honor her father who as a widower raised six children by himself. It should be noted that some women, a few years later asked Miss Dodd to legally change her name to “Senora Not So Smart Dodd.” Do you know that it took until 1972, before President Richard Nixon officially made Father’s Day a national holiday. I think he did it to take some of the pressure off himself for the Watergate scandal which started on June 17, 1972 with the arrest of five men who were burglarizing the Democratic National Committee Headquarters. President Nixon was probably thinking to himself at the time.

 “Man, I’m in big trouble. I may even be going down. I need to get some of the spot light off of me. What can I do? What can I do? I’ve got it! I’ll declare another national holiday. People love holidays. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll even make it for men.”

      Personally, I don’t think Father’s day is going to be around much longer. I just read that the latest census figures show that only forty-eight percent of people are even married in America. This is the first time ever it’s been below fifty percent. I also saw that almost thirteen percent of women were raising children on their own without the father being present. I hope Father’s Day doesn’t go the way of the dinosaurs. I know they’re a lot of good fathers out there who love their kids, and are involved in their children’s lives. Besides, I kind of like all those goofy ties I always get. Who knows? In a few years Father’s Day might be called,

“Mommy, how come Uncle Earl is living with us day?”

      I have one question to ask which has been bothering me about Father’s Day. Where in the world is all the darn chocolate? Come on Father’s Day people! How come when I go into Wal-Mart a few weeks before Father’s Day, I don’t see millions of boxes of every chocolate confectionery treasure known to man? I’ve gotten to eat massive quantities of artery clogging chocolate for Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and Easter. My blood sugar levels have dropped dramatically, and I desperately need a chocolate fix. How come mothers get boxes of delicious, assorted chocolates that are so huge they could choke a horse, but I have to snatch up a Reese’s peanut butter cup at the local convenience store counter?

     Maybe I should move to Germany. The German people really know how to celebrate Father’s Day. I hear they have a tremendous Father’s Day tradition called “Mannertag” (men’s day). It could possibly be the coolest tradition I’ve ever heard of. The fantastic day begins with males-only hiking tours that include one or more small wagons called “Bollerwagens.” The men will load up the Bollerwagens with wine, beer and food, and spend the day getting drunk. I may have to start this tradition in America with a few slight changes. The Bollerwagen would also have to include a TV with a portable generator. It doesn’t matter how drunk I am; I can’t go an entire Sunday without sports. Besides the Bollerwagen, I would also include a second wagon called the “Hookerwagen.” Now, that’s what I call a Father’s Day celebration.

     Things have really changed since I was a kid. Father’s Day like everything else is becoming so commercialized. It’s almost like Christmas. I think the new motto for Father’s Day should be,

 “Show dad you care by buying him something.”

     Whatever happened to the homemade cards we lovingly made out of construction paper, and the presents like a simple wallet we would buy at the five and dime with our allowance money? Mom would also buy dad other things and put our names on them. Besides ties, dad would get funky Hawaiian shirts, tools, sports items, and smelly liquids in huge bottles.

     Even the type of gifts has changed. Today’s fathers get big screen TVs, flashy, gold jewelry, including earrings and rings, tattoo coupons, spa treatments, and revealing bikini underwear. All I know is that I need a new allen wrench set, not a tiny piece of bright red fabric which my wife will make me jam myself into when she gets a little frisky. Excuse me for a second………………. Thanks, I just needed a moment to clear that disturbing image out of my head.

     These days’ kids don’t even give homemade cards anymore. It’s easier to run into stores, and grab the first card you see along with an envelope. It doesn’t matter what it says, right dads? It’s the thought that counts. The card just has to have the words dad and love on it. That’s it. One other thing. When your card comes out bent in half, that’s because in her rush, your wife grabbed an envelope that was half the size of the card. I don’t blame her. I did the same thing on Mother’s Day.

     Now that we’re talking about Father’s Day, I was wondering about that woman, Nadia Suleiman, or as she’s often called, “The Octo-Mom.” How do you think her kids are going to celebrate Father’s Day? I kind of feel sorry for the eight of them, plus their six siblings. Are they going to send Father’s Day cards to the fertility clinic doctor who implanted the fertilized eggs? I wonder if Hallmark has a card that says,

“Happy Father’s Day. Thanks for implanting me in mom’s uterus.”

     I have a question for all you fathers out there. What is your perfect Father’s Day? Here’s another question. Does anybody ever ask you? My family believes that they should spend every single, precious second of the day with me. Do you feel a cold chill running up your spine right about now? I can tell you, I do. Don’t get me wrong. I love my family, but I spend every day of the year with them. I think Father’s Day should be spent doing what we really enjoy. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not making love. That’s for the third Sunday of the month except for when my wife has a girl’s night out, which occurs bi-monthly. I don’t mind. I’ve been married eighteen years, and need a break once in a while.  

      A perfect Father’s Day is one where I roll over on Sunday morning, and the alarm clock says ten in the morning. It’s so quiet in the house it makes a funeral parlor sound like Mardi Gras. Do you know why it’s so quiet? It’s quiet because no one is home except me. Even the dog and cat are nowhere to be found. The aquarium is also missing all its fish. A fresh pot of coffee has been brewed, danish the size of frisbees are sitting on the kitchen table, and the refrigerator is stocked with beer, meat and cheese trays, and three dozen pre-cooked hot wings that only need to be warmed up. The TV is on, the remote is on the nearby table, along with spare batteries, a huge bag of chips, and a warm blanket. On the arm of a brand new recliner is a newspaper with a front page headline saying,

“The Super Bowl has been moved to June 17th.” 

     My family has been trying all week to get an idea as to what I want for Father’s Day. I don’t have the heart to tell them that all I want is for them to disappear for twelve hours. I guess I’ll have to put up with a hallmark card, a red and green tie with “Best Dad” on it, breakfast in bed, some aftershave, and an entire day spent with my family.  Just a second; my wife is trying to tell me something. “What did you say, honey? Did you just say that your mother is coming to visit for an entire week starting on June 16th?”

“Sweetheart, I just remembered that I need to do something. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

     Let’s see. I’ll pick up some beer, call Frank, Joe, and Phil, and order some food from the deli. I then just have to see if the hardware store sells some type of man wagons. If they don’t, I may have to book a flight on June 16th to the magnificent land of beer, wiener schnitzel, and those wonderful Bollerwagens. Happy Father’s Day.

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One Comment to “FATHER’S DAY”

  1. What about that man who had a baby? Do you think he gets to have Mother’s Day and Father’s Day? If so, that’s really not fair! Hilarious post…

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