My children may be confused when they hear people talking about uninvolved fathers who never help at home and don't know how to cook or clean. Their father is the opposite of that. He cooks. He cleans. He is a helper — in any way we ask or that he sees fit.
Plus, he knows how to fix things — sometimes in amazingly creative ways.
For example, years ago, part of the metal venting around our interior air conditioner unit rusted out, making the giant machine inoperable, even though everything else about it worked perfectly. Rather than forking over thousands of dollars for a new air conditioner unit, he went to the home improvement store and bought a spray can of plastic for less than $10 — a product I didn't even know existed.
He took the metal venting piece off and sprayed the whole thing. It was strangely beautiful. The next time the HVAC guys came back, they were amazed and impressed. It worked for years to come without a hitch.
Just last week, as we moved our younger daughter to a basement apartment in Denver, he had another stroke of brilliance to improve her little apartment that had two large metal ducts running across the length of the living room and down one wall. With the landlord's permission, he painted the ducts white. Then, he covered the vertical duct with cardboard that he upholstered with a beautiful red fabric, which coincidentally was the same shade of red as the plastic he used to fix the long-ago air conditioner.
Beyond his abilities to fix things, my husband is as caring toward our girls as a fellow could be. I'm grateful. Even so, we don't go all-out to celebrate Father's Day. He tells me that he's not about that life. He doesn't like a foofarah.
I asked my friend Matt Bruce, who is a courts reporter in the Baton Rouge newsroom, about his thoughts on Father's Day. The first thing he said was when he walked into the grocery store the day before Mother's Day, it was covered in flowers and fanfare. He stood there taking it all in, and a guy walked up and said, "We don't get any of this."
It's true, and I'm not sure why that is. Father's Day often feels almost like an afterthought compared to the well-deserved fuss and commotion of Mother's Day. Maybe it's partially because, like my own husband, few fathers seem to appreciate the fanfare. And for whatever reasons, flowers rarely seem appropriate.
For weeks in advance, moms get plenty of ads for a great variety of potential gifts — jewelry, spa treatments, lavish brunches and more. Dads generally get grills and ties.
Bruce says that growing up in Chicago, Father's Day was a day for barbecues. He says his own father stressed education — and these days, Bruce is grateful for his all-boys Catholic school secondary education, followed by college.
He remembers that when he would ask his dad for money or something else, his father would say, "This ain't Chicken Little. Stuff don't fall out of the sky."
Fatherisms stick with you, right? When I was growing up and would fall down or have a bicycle accident, my own father rarely, if ever, consoled me. Instead, he would simply say, "Suck it up."
And that was that.
I asked other friends what was the best Father's Day gift they ever gave or received. Only two people had a solid answer. Ken Wheaton, originally from Opelousas, now living in Colorado, said the best Father's Day gift he ever got was a smoked brisket from Snow's in Texas.
The other person with an answer was Dave Baxter in Baton Rouge.
"Hands down, a record player! My kids gave me one years ago and it was great. I could play all my old albums from when I was a kid growing up," Baxter said. "I lugged those albums around for 30 years with no way to play them. Now I have one and use it often."
All that said, maybe Dads deserve more hoopla than they've gotten through the years. Like my own husband, so many fathers are involved and invested in the nurturing process more than previous generations. Even so, cultural dynamics haven't caught up with the changes in lifestyles.
Maybe the time has come to celebrate them in a more wholehearted way and find a fitting gift like Baxter's record player — or something else that resonates and brings dear ole Dad all the joy he deserves.