A day for dads

I’ve got six days, and then it’s here. And I can’t blow it again. I mean, it is sort of a big deal.

I already messed it up on Mother’s Day. I just didn’t see it coming. It snuck up at the end of finals week. Sunday morning arrived and I had nothing but a mom saying she loves me no matter what – that really brought on the stinging guilt. But this time, I see it coming and I’m ready.

Father’s Day 2009 will be a holiday to remember in the Chernesky household.

Maybe. I mean, the gift used to be so easy. All I had to do was pass along whatever half-baked craft we’d made in day care. Construction paper masterpieces and a bunch of clothespins glued in the shape of a human being would be readily accepted and summarily praised. But crappy art just doesn’t do it anymore. And honestly, what do my parents really need?

They’re the ones who have jobs, who actually own the house where I live and who bought the car that I drive. If there’s something they’ve needed, they’ve bought it. And seeing as they don’t have a coffee mug reminding them of their status as world’s best parents or a mouse pad plastered with a picture from our last family vacation, they must not want them. I wouldn’t either.

And why do I have to show my appreciation on some arbitrary day anyway? I mean, these holidays are just creations of culture, barely a century old. Mother’s Day was first celebrated in 1914, and the observance of Father’s Day was officially recognized in 1966 in what seems to be a national afterthought.

Isn’t it kind of insulting to set aside just one day of the year to honor our parents?

We have Arbor Day to remind us of the importance of trees, which, I’ll admit, is easier to overlook than the significance of your parents. And we celebrate Labor Day, spending a day at the lake only to reflect upon how so much rots. Father’s Day and Mother’s Day appear in the almanac alongside International Talk Like A Pirate Day (which, in case you’re wondering, is Sept.19).

Let’s face it, for many of us, things with our parents just aren’t what they were. We’ve had our ups and downs. Words have been said. Fights have been fought. And there’s been some hurt.

Maybe my issue with Father’s Day is that I know him. He’s not a jolly, nice man that lives at the North Pole, bringing me presents once a year. He’s a real guy whom I’ve been around, in good times and bad, for 20 years. I’ve seen him as a man who has messed up, who hasn’t always done what I’ve thought best.

But in spite of all that, I love him. And if a piano key neck tie is what it takes to show that, then, I guess it’s what I’ll do.