Do you know what Sunday is? It’s Father’s Day. If you forgot, I can hear Desi Arnaz from the I Love Lucy Show, “Lucy, you got some ‘splaining to do!”
If you live within commuting distance of your dad, you could invite your parents to your place for a barbecue with hamburgers, sausages, buns, chips and dip, coleslaw and s’mores for dessert. If you don’t have a backyard, take your parents to a restaurant or barbecue joint for finger-licking ribs.
If your dad lives on the other side of the country, send him an ecard. Jacquie Lawson has a great assortment of ecards and presents that you could send to your dad within seconds!
I have four suggestions in no particular order. Select one for this Father’s Day and one of the other three for the next three Father’s Days.
You and I can’t predict the future. We never know what year will be our father’s last Father’s Day.
In the spring of 1998 Dad’s cardiologist discovered problems with two of his four heart valves. Dad was between a rock and a hard place. If he did nothing, his two bad valves would last about six months or he could have a replacement operation.
On May 5, 1998 his two valves were successfully replaced. Unfortunately, his recovery was one step forward and two steps back. Sixteen days after the operation, he had a stroke in the morning and passed away about 12 hours later.
Dad had passed away 14 months before I replaced the engine in my 1964 Olds Cutlass convertible. I spent five weeks in an empty engine compartment using a spray can of Gunk, a putty knife and a wire brush to clean 34 years of grease and yuck. Next, I painted the engine compartment.
My friend, Ed, had the experience and equipment to help me install a rebuilt big block Olds, 462 cubic inch engine in my “arrest me red” Olds. On my third attempt, the big block fired up, without any mufflers. We ran the engine for 30 minutes to “break it in.” The sun had set when I shut off the engine and closed the garage door.
The next morning after all my blood, sweat and tears, I was excited. I picked up the phone and dialed Dad’s phone number to share my great news! In my excitement, I had completely forgotten about Dad’s passing and hung up.
May I suggest you write all your questions and make arrangements to videotape your dad’s answers. Quality time with your Dad is a great gift. His answers will be your gift to future generations. I regret that I didn’t ask my Dad more questions. Don’t repeat my mistake!
In May 2018 I was visiting my oldest daughter, Kathy, Matt, her husband, grandchildren and great-grandchildren in Massachusetts. After greeting me when I arrived at their home, Kathy told me, “Don’t make any plans for Sunday, May 28, 2018. You’re getting your Father’s Day gift early. I have two right field box seat tickets to the Sox vs. the Seattle Mariners at Fenway Park!”
My first thought was, how long has it been since I’ve attended a game at Fenway? It had been 38 years.
We left at 11 a.m. Sunday. Kathy drove to the Wonderland station in Revere and parked the car. We rode the “T” to Fenway Park and back.
Arriving home at 7 p.m. after spending eight hours sharing the complete ball park experience, a couple of beers, a hot dog, before the bottom of the eighth inning singing “Sweet Caroline,” and cheering for the Sox! (The Sox lost.) Eight hours with my first-born, PRICELESS!
Instead of buying a card for Father’s Day, sit down with a pen and pad of paper or use your laptop computer to write a positive letter to your dad. No pressure, this is where you express your “soft side.”
Here’s a suggestion. “Dear Dad, This Father’s Day I want to give you a gift you’ve never received from me, until now.”
Think back to when you were a kid. You had a two-wheel bike with training wheels. YOU decided, “I want to be ‘a big kid’ and ride without training wheels on my bike.” Your dad smiled as he took a crescent wrench from his toolbox. In no time the training wheels were off your bike.
Your dad was on the left side of your bike. He was even with the rear wheel as he steadied your bike while you got on the seat with your feet on each pedal. He told you, “OK, start to pedal.” As you pedaled, dad was walking with a firm grip on your bike. As you picked up speed, your dad began to jog.
As mentally painful as it was to your dad, he let go of your bike without you knowing. (The most anxious moment for a parent, letting go.) You were in “free flight,” but you thought dad was still steadying your bike. It was the same feeling you experienced being in your mother’s womb before you were born, no worries and no responsibilities.
After one or two wobbly episodes, you realized dad wasn’t holding your bike. Similar to a young bird flying for the first time. At the end of the street you made your first gradual turn to see your parents cheering for you as you returned.
Remember, when you point your index finger at another person, you have three fingers pointing at you, a three to one ratio of blame. Forgiving another person will free you. Today could be the beginning of a new relationship with your dad. Similar to lawyers’ in their TV ads, “Take the first step.”
Fourth, if your dad has passed and is buried in a distant cemetery, I want you to visit the veterans’ home in Sparks. Ask one of the staff for a vet who doesn’t have any family members nearby. Go up to the vet, smile and introduce yourself. Step out of your comfort zone to ask him which military unit did he serve during the war with follow up questions.
As you read this commentary, I’m in Massachusetts visiting Kathy, Matt and my “rust” friends from high school. Sunday I’m looking forward to the BEST GIFT, a hug from Kathy.
