By tradition, my Father’s Day begins with cheerful words like: “Happy Father’s Day! … The light in the garage is burnt out.” Or, perhaps, “The drain is clogged. Do we need a plumber?” In one recent case, it was “We don’t have any hot water.” That had me, in slippers and a robe, relighting the pilot light on the water heater, in a cobweb-strewn corner of the garage! Fun!
I’d like to spend my day sleeping in, consuming a proper cup of java (without Coffee-Mate, thank you!), killing my diet with a rasher of bacon, nice and crispy. Followed by a cheery morning in my easy chair, wearing a smoking jacket, pipe in hand, perusing an early edition of P.G. Wodehouse.
Good luck with that! There are chores to be done!
Often said is that a mother’s work is never done. Less often mentioned is that a father’s work goes on forever. Especially if a shutter is jammed, a tire needs air or the pup has a funky stomach. Sigh…
I used to believe that Father’s Day was something of a runner-up holiday, a consolation prize awarded fathers after the gala celebration of Mother’s Day, with its flowers and candy and chocolates and brunch. It’s a day given to fathers, somewhat begrudgingly, when they’re given the honor of standing over the Weber — burning steaks, chicken and fish — until they’re finally released from toil, and allowed to collapse on the couch and watch the Dodgers game in peace, with a cold one in hand. And, as ever, I was wrong.
Father’s Day, in one incarnation or another, has been around for centuries. In the Middle Ages, it was St. Joseph’s Day, honoring the earthly father of Jesus. In the Eastern Orthodox Church, the ancestors of Christ are celebrated with the Sunday of the Forefathers – beginning with Adam. (It’s a long list!) Indeed, there’s hardly a country on Earth that does not honor fathers in some fashion – from Defender of the Fatherland Day in Russia, Belarus and a handful of other countries, to Soldiers’ Day…
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