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Father’s Day 2010

We celebrated Father’s Day a day early because we have too much going on tomorrow to do otherwise.  It was FANTASTIC.  My kids are awesome.  My Wendy is tremendous.  I couldn’t be happier.  Right now they are cleaning the kitchen after dinner while singing songs from Les Miserables.  What could be more cool? 

In any case, I thought I would re-post my Father’s Day column from 2008.  It still holds true for me.  For the record, I got my nap on the couch. 

This weekend brings us Father’s Day. My children have been hinting and giggling for weeks about what they plan to give me on Sunday. I’m looking forward to it, but that hasn’t always been the case.

When I was a child, I don’t ever remember Father’s Day being a particularly important or poignant event. It was just a day in which my brother and I gave our dad some trinket or something we threw together at school. Sometimes it was just a card and a hug. My mom usually cooked him something nice to eat that day and the whole day quickly washed into the backwaters of my memory as I moved on to the seemingly more important things in my adolescent life.

The importance of Father’s Day changed for me when I was 16 years old. On Father’s Day that year, I had no longer had a father with whom to celebrate the day. He had passed away in March.

Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, Father’s Day became more important to me when it came to taunt me year after year with the knowledge that for me, it was just another day. As the years meandered on, Father’s Day kept coming around and I became increasingly resentful of the day. I was angry that I should be forced to watch commercials and listen to my friends prattle on about a day that I couldn’t share.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized from whence that resentment sprung. I was resentful of myself. I had years to spend with my father. He was loving and kind. He provided for our family and taught me important lessons like the value of honesty, hard work, the importance of integrity, honor, humor, tolerance, duty, responsibility and so many other lessons that I continue to discover within myself.

More than that, my dad was a lot of fun. We spent many afternoons plinking at old cans on our land in Texas. We played more games of backgammon, gin, Trivial Pursuit, Yahtzee and chess than I can remember. He never let me win because to win without earning it wouldn’t mean anything. When I did occasionally win, I had to concentrate very hard on the lessons of how to be a gracious winner.

So it was with some anger at myself that I remembered all of those Father’s Days in which I did the least to thank the man who gave me the most. My father gave me the man I am today, and I gave him an afterthought.

As more years passed, the anger grew as my horizons grew and I came to know how many people never had what I had. I am part of a club of people whose fathers have died, but there’s another club of people who never even had the opportunity to know their fathers. People whose fathers died or left when they were very young. People whose fathers were never a part of their lives. People whose fathers were there in body, but were neglectful and abusive. Compared to those folks, I am lucky. I had 16 great years with my father before he began his eternal dirt nap. Yet, I never fully appreciated him until he was gone.

Now that I’m older and learning that one gains wisdom by recognizing how little one knows, Father’s Day has taken a new turn for me. I have four wonderful children who fill my days with scuffed knees, endless questions, laughter, lost teeth, an occasional tear, nighttime prayers, school projects and all of the other things that make up my life.

Each Father’s Day has passed with the same presents that I remember giving my dad. A school project. A crayon picture. A homemade card. A trinket from a store. A smile. A hug.

And you know what?

It’s perfect. I couldn’t possibly want anything more.

The self-directed anger has passed because I now know that my father didn’t want anything more either. The best presents come in small packages - our children.

This Father’s Day, don’t worry about getting something expensive and elaborate for your fathers. Just make sure that he gets a smile and a hug. Let him cook some choice pieces of animal carcass on the grill. A nice nap on the couch is always a great gift. And give him the best gift possible - time. Because time is the one thing that can never be replaced.

Posted by Owen at 1943 hrs
Off-Duty

1. What Makes A Dad

   God took the strength of a mountain,
   The majesty of a tree,
   The warmth of a summer sun,
   The calm of a quiet sea,
   The generous soul of nature,
   The comforting arm of night,
   The wisdom of the ages,
   The power of the eagle’s flight,
   The joy of a morning in spring,
   The faith of a mustard seed,
   The patience of eternity,
   The depth of a family need,
   Then God combined these qualities,
   When there was nothing more to add,
   He knew His masterpiece was complete,
   And so, He called it ... Dad

   
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   Posted by corneal99 on June 21, 2010 at 0919 hrs
   
   
   

2. *()$#*($ you Owen, you made me cry.  Couldn’t have said it better.  The quick phone call my son made on a busy day from an airport, and the selection of hot sauces that he left with me before he left made it a truly special day.  It really does take becoming a father to understand that time really is the only gift that matters at all.  My son is now 18, and time with him is getting smaller, but I still cherish getting my butt kicked at basketball, talking World Cup, or watching really bad TV with him after he comes home late.

   Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on June 21, 2010 at 0928 hrs
   
   
   

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