Father's Day

Over 20 years ago, my Dad wrote his eleven children and their families a letter.  (Yes a letter. Not an email.) He wanted no more Father’s Day celebrations.  He saw it as a “stupid Hallmark holiday” and he asked us to please forget about it as far as he was concerned.  He loved us, he knew we loved him, let’s not feel obligated to tell each other so just because some Sunday in June rolls around.

He was serious.  And when Dad is serious, even tho his letter was warm and funny, we listened.

See, when my father believes something, he lives it.  He’s never been a go-along, easy way out kinda guy.  When he commits to something, he sticks it. 

100% Irish, he never wore green on St. Patrick’s Day because if you were REALLY Irish, you didn’t have to show it. 

A strong Catholic, he was never a meek follower.  He “got involved”, which for my father meant leading the way. 

And as a parent, if Dad decided, no amount of pleading, whining, cajoling, crying, arguing or “three act plays” would change his mind.  Once Dad believes he is right, Katie bar the door.  Go pound sand. 

Which is not to say he decided issues in some knee-jerk fashion.  He thinks things out, measures consequences and costs, and prays about the important decisions beforehand. So good luck to you if you think you are bringing new information to the table when challenging him on one of these beliefs.

Brings to mind the Sunday at church when Dad was at the lectern announcing a fund raiser that he was chairing (Dad was in the lectern often, either leading prayers or doing readings or in some other way living his belief that the church was people, not the Vatican, and that people of faith needed to be involved to keep the church intact and relevant) and some rather conservative parishioner had the temerity to stand up and challenge the idea of the fund raiser because it was going to include “gambling”. 

When I say the earth stood still, you have to understand this was in far more conservative times and NOONE had ever stood up in church to object or even question anyone on the altar.  Not too many years before, the altar hadn’t even faced the congregation and the whole service was in Latin. But here was this guy, pretty righteous in his manner, taking on my Dad in front of a Sunday morning crowded Mass. 

My mother and all of us were, as we were every Sunday, in one of the front pews off to the right.  Actually we were probably taking up two of the front pews. There are lots of reasons why we always sat in the same place, but it is interesting when I think about where it was.  Up in front – you bet.  Fully participating, absolutely.  But not in the middle.  Not in the prime attention getting or statement making spots.  To the right.  Out of the way but not out of the picture. 

Anyway, we all froze. This was way out of line and wasn't in anyone's game plan. This made us all afraid.  But, Dad just answered the guy.  He never hesitated, never broke stride, and calmly explained why this made sense.  The guy never knew what hit him.

As time has gone by and Dad has had his Father’s Days free of Hallmark cards and bad ties, I’ve been less ok with the ban. 

As much as Dad never minded leading; the Army troops he was in charge of, the parish he belonged to, the family he spawned, the business he created; he is actually a very private guy who doesn’t enjoy public personal attention. 

But there is another side of Dad.  He loves opportunities. Maybe he was so successful as a salesman all those years because he just loves finding and then thinking about how to take advantage of an opening, how to fix a problem, how to surprise the people he loved with remodeled kitchens, bicycles, or chocolate doughnuts.

Maybe that is why he has always watched the sales flyers and the coupons that come in the mail.  Maybe there will be an opportunity too good to pass up.

Well, for me, that is exactly what Father’s Day represents.  An opportunity.  It isn’t important who gave me the coupon, but I have a great big one that says for this one day a year, it is absolutely ok to risk everything and stand up when you are supposed to be quiet and risk embarrassing Dad by saying how much I love him, how much I respect him, how often I judge my actions by what I think he might say and how more than anything I hope I have made him proud. 

I’m sure he will have a very well-thought out response.  But luckily, I am my father’s daughter.  And this is what I believe.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad, with all my love.