By Chris from Rude Cactus
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not big on “Hallmark holidays.” You know, the ones that were dreamed up solely to sell greeting cards. But it’s hard for me to argue too strenuously because the subjects of the holidays the greeting card industry dreamed up are pretty great. I mean who can dispute the relative merits of mothers, grandfathers, secretaries, or trees? I’m an ass sometimes but not that big of an ass. And it’s not like they also came up with Insider Trader Day or Cracked-Out Prostitute Day (though, really, cracked-out hookers could use a card at the very least). And really, I can’t honestly say that I don’t like waking up on one particular day and being honored as a father. After all, it’s the most important job I have. But there’s the inevitable question that I always get from my wife but never know how to answer. What do you want for Father’s Day? Damn. I can’t escape that one.
Here’s the low-down: I don’t need anything. I have my wife, my kids and plenty of stuff to eat. I have an iPod. Two in fact. Tons of other gadgets. And, I have a room full of music and piles of books, more than I know what to do with. So I don’t need stuff. But that response won’t fly. So, here’s what I’d like for Father’s Day.
An iPhone. Yeah, I haven’t consumed the Kool-Aid yet but I’m ready to. I totally love my smart-phone but I know it’s not as, well, smart as they come.
A day. A full day to do absolutely whatever the hell I want. I don’t want to ignore my kids or give you the impression that I don’t love them. And I know that my wife deserves and needs that whole full day thing to herself more than I do. But I’d dig a full day to do whatever - wake up, chill with The Flintstones over breakfast, head to the basement and blare my guitar for an hour or two, and spend the rest of the day in the backyard with a book.
Gift certificate for a billion dollars at the local nursery. When we moved into our house a couple of years ago, we were mesmerized by the landscaping. Turns out the former owner was president of the neighborhood gardening club. And it showed. And you know, it’s a lot of pressure to keep everything looking right. In doing so, I’ve found I really enjoy messing around in the yard, planting things and seeing how long it will take before I kill them. It’s a lot of work but how often in life do you have the opportunity to start and finish something, sit back and point at what you’ve done with pride, and reap the benefits for years?
A massage. Can I let you in on a little secret? I have never - in all of my 36 years - had a massage. I get neurotic trying to figure out if I’d take it all off or leave some article of clothing on (like my socks, or earmuffs). And I’ve never figured out whether I’d be more comfortable with a male of female masseuse. Someone’s missing an opportunity to train an army of massaging chimps.
A personal assistant. Okay, okay. I know this is maybe the least realistic of anything on the list (with the exception of the massage-trained chimps) but I could seriously use someone - perhaps an evil but helpful doppleganger, even - to do my grunt work. You know, sit on all the conference calls I don’t really have to pay much attention to and report back, drop my clothes off at the cleaners, hit my snooze button while I sleep.
While all these things are great, it’s my wife and kids who are the true, best presents. Without them, well, I couldn’t even be deserving of a holiday.
Subscribe to blog via RSS