none - or something funny
MANY years ago, my husband and I exchanged vows promising, among other things, to ‘honour, love, and cherish one another’ (Thank god we omitted ‘obey’).In the fullness of time, we changed our titles from ‘Mr. and Mrs.’ to ‘Father and Mother’.
So far, so good. Then along came Hallmark — or was it Rust Craft? — with the concept that children should honour their fathers on the third Sunday in June in perpetuity — first with cards and then with gifts.
Nothing stands still, even time, so what started out as a simple little card and token of esteem has today burgeoned into another mini-Christmas, involving larger, mushier and more expensive cards, and Trump-sized gifts (that’s plural). According to the gift-wrap gurus, presentation is all, so now we also need yards of co-ordinated, themed paper and ribbon to gussy up the latter-day frankincense and myrrh.
Of course, multiple children means multiple gifts for good old dad to avoid the mini-riots of sibling rivalry for his affection. Too bad forethought was absent during the joys of conception.
Not ones to miss the economic ethos either, the hotels and restaurants have added their own weight to the celebration with gala brunches and special dinners that cost ten times the price of barbecued fowl and spuds chez nous.<$>
Bermuda, being “another world”, also has its own “take” on head-of-household entertainment to add to the day: dubious, closed-door shows, and cruises to nowhere.All in all, the annual requirement is that fathers be feted as princes among men, and gods of the day.
Of course, I am at least 50 percent responsible for my household pet’s (for lack of a better term) status as a father, so I’ve been thinking perhaps I should fete him too. After all, he did promise to cherish me. It’s just that we have different perceptions of what constitutes “cherish”.
His appears to be: ‘Have you seen my socks?’ (He needs me) ‘What time’s dinner?’ (He’s loves breaking bread with me) Or, ‘I’m playing golf tomorrow, hope you don’t mind’ (He hates to leave me, but his pals insisted).
Maybe ‘Oh good, you’ve bought more groceries’ really means ‘I love the way you nurture me’, ‘The car’s out of gas’ translates to ‘I so wanted to take you places’, and ‘I’m out of clean shirts’ is another way of saying, ‘I wanted to look handsome for you’.
So I’ve decided: As the ‘mother’ half of our equation, I too will fete this bringer-home-of-the-bacon (or one of them).
I’ve read all the gift suggestions in the magazines and newspapers — you know the sort of things: the $600 barbecue, the $800 easy chair that collapses into a semi-bed at the pull of a lever, the don’t-a$k motor boat, the expensive briefcase/pen and pencil set, the $400 sports jacket with matching $75 Bermuda shorts, and the Italian repro shoes that cost more than the groceries. Memberships in yacht and sports clubs, golf, tennis and Scuba lessons — why not? Life’s a beach, they say.
Well, those things are all very nice, but what with the expenses of raising a family, paying off the 35-inch flat-screen TV and all the other paraphernalia in “his” entertainment system, the quick-”one”-after-work bar bills, and his green fees, there’s not much left for me to go all-out.
So I’ve put a lot of thought into composing my gift list, which fits nicely with my concept of being “cherished”, and it comes straight from the heart. I have to admit I’m pretty excited. He should be too, because it’s going to a totally new experience for my beautiful dreamer, combining adventure, discovery, and exercise, along with an improved vocabulary. Here’s a peek (hoping he still can’t read anything but the sports pages):[obox] A demonstration of all the buttons that make the washer and dryer work.
[obox] A demonstration exercise class with my partners the vacuum cleaner, lawn mower and weed whacker.
[obox] A manual of useful phrases, such as ‘Can I help you?’ ‘I’ll do the dishes/pick up the kids/do the laundry’ and ‘You’re tired. Sit down and let me spoil you’.
[obox] A memory book listing my real name (clue: It’s not ‘Hi’), favourite terms of endearment (‘maid Marion’ is not cute); day-brighteners like ‘Thank you’, ‘You look nice today’, and ‘Give me a kiss’; as well as my favourite invitation: ‘Let’s eat out’.
[obox] A clue book listing, in simple terms: 1. The difference between clean and dirty laundry.
2. How dishes and cutlery make the round trip from cupboards and drawers to the sink/dishwasher and back.
3. How coat hangers, shoe racks, towel bars and toilet paper holders work.
4. Why grass and weeds don’t grow just once a year.
5. How to sit upright and converse.
6. How to call home from any phone.
7. How toilet seat hinges work.
8. What does not belong on floors, sofas and dining tables.
9. How to open refrigerator and cupboard doors and find food.
10. Simple sandwich making.
11. Where the recipe books are kept.
12. The basics of being a hands-on father 365/365.
I was going to break the news that the Fairy Godmother never did have our address, but then I thought: ‘Why spoil his day?’
