The Great Father’s Day Gift Amnesty

I was on the front porch when you drove by and I waved remembering this is the month for Father’s Day and there is something that needs to be said and as a father who loved you even through the Great Tribulation (read: teenagers), I must say it --- we do not need a Father’s Day gift from you anymore. Gifts are for Mother’s Day, as it should be.

That’s right, kiddo, you’re off the hook. Daddy’s Day no longer requires a gift.

No more racing through the mall at the last minute, no more pricing out neck ties --- he’d only carry it as a tourniquet for snake bite. Forget billfolds, or looking for an easy-to-fly mini drone. This is not a fake “Aw shucks, don’t bother yourself about little old me” routine. This is real.

Think of your dad as an oyster. He has a house, he’s in it, the man is happy. You wouldn’t give an oyster a grilling apron with a happy hamburger on it. He wouldn’t wear it. Neither will your dad.

Sure, dad needs some basics like deodorant, a toothbrush, and maybe some cologne, but these aren’t gifts, and only he knows the brands he likes. He does not need a toothbrush designed by NASA engineers that reach teeth dad didn’t know he had. He doesn’t need you to change his deodorant (circa. Reagan Administration) to “Sustainable Ice” or “Courage” or “Scented Steel”. And stay away from cologne. He started using a cologne in high school that smells like menthol and has a three-masted sailing ship on the bottle and he’s sticking with it.

The same goes for clothing. He already has stuff to wear but a gift requires he hold it up for everyone’s admiration, pretend he likes it, then quietly place it in the back of his closet with shirts and argyle socks that still have the tags on them. There’s always a feeling you must get Dad updated.

But you really don’t. Dad does not need to be updated. Dad is dad.

If we made a movie of your family, the dad character would already be fully developed. His costume is straight off the rack from a department store, his haircut is set, and his lines were memorized before the script was even written.

That’s what’s so wonderful about your father. Whether you like it or not, he’s stable.

He’s unchanging in a world where everything else is in constant upheaval. But not Dad. Dad is a known value. Kids are changing every day, their tastes evolving. They can be an athlete one minute and declare themselves an environmental organic vegan the next.

That’s okay. It’s expected.

But not Dad. Imagine if one morning Dad had walked into breakfast dressed in black leather, a blue mohawk, and a spiked dog collar around his neck. The Mississippi River would have reversed flow and birds would have fainted in mid-flight.

Even Mom is expected to change. A new hairstyle, new shoes, and she’ll spend weeks talking to her friends about changing her hair color.

But that’s not Dad.

Dad walks into a room with a piece of hair sticking out the right side of his head, in the same shirt he bought 10 years ago, with a goofy Dad greeting that only he thinks is clever. He’s been doing that for most of your life; it’s something you can count on.

Dad does not want to create hassles. Dad is calm. Gifts bring unwanted attention. He does not want you running around town yelling or texting your mother, “What are we going to get Dad!?”

Dad just wants you to be home. He wants you happy.

Listen up, sweet cakes. The only thing Dad really wants is ---- you.