Yes, a time to remember all fathers, be they biological, father figures, surrogates, and others that have played or continue to play a role. I often think of my father, a man left without his own at age three and left him nothing but a name, and survived two stepfathers, one of whom he connected with for a short time, and one with whom he didn’t, and of consequence didn’t really have a model. He was an only child, and thus didn’t have any siblings with whom to share the experience. Considering that, he did remarkably well in the parent department, raising three of us. He wasn’t a doting, demonstrably doting parent, but we knew that he loved and cared deeply about all of us.
Enough sentiment. I usually track the sale fliers in the newspapers, and one caught my eye. It was for a major retailer. Now, if I may be permitted, here’s the way these fliers with dad in mind should look. You start with the power tools. Ok, I know I’m from a different generation, and to be honest, I don’t even use many power tools. I have what I need in that department – a hammer somewhere, several sets of screwdrivers scattered about, pliers in the kitchen drawer because, well, that’s where we’ll need them most. Next in priority among sale items will be clothing, and as we’re honored in June, it will be stuff for the summer. Polo shirts, unspeakably ugly tropically themed short-sleeved shirts, shorts, sandals.
The first sale insert I came across was incomprehensible. Electronic devices, like a half dozen different types of earbuds. Why do I need those? If I want to tune out Her Ladyship, I’ll go out to my back porch rocker or go take a nap. I don’t need or want things stuck into my ears. There were other devices about which I know nothing. They looked like tiny flying saucers. Maybe they store information or connect me to something about which I don’t want to know. Truthfully, I’m a network television type of person in a world of “streaming”. Which, if my information is correct, has little to do with babbling brooks and nature. Then we come to watches. I have two very nice watches. They are round, have two hands, and tell me the time. That’s all I expect from them. I replace the batteries when they stop. I don’t plug them into anything. These featured ones from the sale insert tell me way, way too much. If I wanted to know my blood pressure, I go my doctor. Or now, my dentist and my eye doctor have this information too. I’m not overly concerned about the numbers of steps I’ve taken today. Too many are into the bedroom to get something, but I forget what when I get there, so I make the trip several times. Is that good? I walk down to pick up the mail a couple of times a week – it’s about a half mile, so that’s good, right? I work in my gardens, using tools that should be advertised and on sale this week instead of those watches I won’t be able to operate. I’d get a blood pressure reading and think to myself, “Look at the time! I should be taking a nap.”
There are ads for men’s scents. What a variety. I personally rely on my deodorant to take care of that. Old Spice has taken care of me nicely, at least I think it has, for many years now. The only one I knew that used cologne was a dear man that was our instrument rep when I was teaching. He’d come by every week to pick up instruments in need of repair, and bring back the ones that were fixed, along with assorted supplies. He was of the age of the shirt unbuttoned half way down and one or two gold chains. I always thought that was an unattractive look after about 35 or you’re in an episode of “Colombo”. But this was the golden age of colognes, and gentlemen of a certain age often smelled as though they’d showered in it.
I was interested to see a number of kitchen items in the flier. That’s an update too, and a sign of shifting times and interests. Curiously, it was labeled “His Hobbies”. Does that mean that when Mom cooks, it’s “survival”, but when Dad enters the kitchen, it’s a “hobby”? A few months ago, I read that a fast-food chain was, in some degree of innocence, trying to encourage a more gender-balanced work force, particularly at the top, so to recruit female chefs, they created the brilliant marketing program, “Great Women Belong in the Kitchen.” That created almost as much of a buzz as statues of Jefferson Davis. If you’re a frequent viewer of House Hunters, as my readers know I am, the wise real estate agent will ask “Who does the cooking?” and that will determine what’s needed for space, appliances, etc. On a side note, I’m always amused by those that need a high-end kitchen, but will at some point in the conversation admit that they don’t cook much. The kitchen is like a studio set – all for effect. Like the watches, though, the kitchen section in the insert isn’t usually about mixers and toasters. No, no, it’s about supercharged crockpots and air friers. More technology that I’ll never understand, much less use. Even my beloved coffee has been swept up in new innovation. What is this “cold brew” that everyone’s talking about? It’s like steel-cut oats and White Zinfandel. It’s still Rose – you can’t fool me.
So, as we head into another Father’s Day weekend, best wishes and blessings to all Fathers, Grandfathers, Uncles, and Big Brothers not on reality tv. Have a wonderful, perhaps celebratory weekend. Enjoy the Airpods, the latest Playstation with back button attachment and senseless wireless controller, the new watch with GPS, can stream movies and tell your cholesterol level, your new Manscaped Lawn Mower (which is actually a razor), double wall stainless steel travel tumbler, a crockpot that connects to the International Space Station, and maybe even a new pair of shorts or a leaf-blowers. Me? I’m looking forward to time with Her Ladyship and the Princess, a good book and maybe a gift certificate.
I'm Thinking...No! 