Reflections on Father's Day

By Ray Rasmussen

My daughter, 15, looked up from reading the newspaper as I passed her on the way to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. "It's father's day tomorrow," she said. "I'll run out and get you something,".

"Get us a big bundle of peace," I thought to myself, but didn't say to her. "Take some responsibility and do some studying." "Quit fighting with your mom." "Do your chores for once without being nagged." "Maybe eat a vegetable sometime this year!"

Sure, those are unthankful responses to a generous and loving comment. And, I felt good that my daughter had the fleeting thought that she should do something to honor me in my special role as Dad. I've done my best as a dad and, from what I can glean from other Dads I've known, I've had no more than the usual number of successes and failures.

For the most part, I have avoided Father's Day, Birth Days, Christmas Day, the lot of the special days someone has set out to direct our behavior. What are these special days, after all, but a merchant's wet dream institutionalized by a society so materialistic that their accumulations of junk is spilling out of their garages into the streets in the form of garage sales. Do we need our kids to buy us even more junk in order to feel appreciated? I don't think so. Still, we're trapped--our kids are too young to know any better, so we go along with structured gift giving and pretend to feel 'appreciated.' At some point it will be time to put a stop to the nonsense in my child's head that a quick purchase can serve as a worthy symbol of her appreciation of my fatherhood. Is 15 that time? Should I tell her what I really want? Probably not.

I thought about, but didn't say to her, "Don't get me anything. I love you but you have the wrong idea about what would serve as a gift to me." Perhaps had I said that, she'd have asked, "What do you really want Dad?" But, even if she did ask, what would I say?

The first thing that comes to mind is: "Do your best in school, keep your options open." But she isn't likely to give me that perfect Father's day gift.

I might ask her to be honest with me--to let me know what's going on in her life even when she senses that I won't approve or that I may even try to talk her out of it. Lies, both the white and the black kinds, roll off her lips at a rate that is startling, especially lies to my wife.

One gift that I can give to her, even though it isn't daughter's day, is to keep things in perspective … to force myself to remember how I behaved when I was her age. After all, when you're a dad, every day is kid's day, isn't it? So, perhaps the rate of lying isn't so scary when I think of my own lying rate as a 15-year old.

I've had to ask myself why her being honest is so important to me. It's because honesty is the backbone on which to build a good life--the path to maturity, wisdom and good relationships--it's even better than doing her best in school which may help to land her a good job, but not necessarily a good life. I realize that requesting honesty is a big ask, but what have I got to lose? It's my day, isn't it?

Still, I don't ask. I won't ask because what I really want for Father's Day isn't fair to ask of her. My requests involve her work habits, her moral development, and her finding wisdom earlier rather than later.

These are gifts from a child that take a long time to happen. An honest relationship demands a persistence and gentleness that most of us hapless dads don't have. If I ask for a gift of that magnitude, I'm not likely to get it and my disappointment is likely to sour our relationship.

So, instead I'll probably back off and ask her for a music CD--something that she thinks that I would like. She's into music and whatever she gets for me will send a message to me about her interests and tastes and even about how she sees me. Then we could talk about it. Talking about interests, after all, is a kind of openness, an important kind of relationship gift.

Okay, it's settled. I'll ask for a music CD and pray that she doesn't select something by Lawrence Welk!