For You, Dad

This edition of The State of the Union originally appeared on June 18, 2004.

In college, I committed to earning a degree in English literature (actually, “committed” is too strong a word; “agreed” is probably more accurate), so I’ve always been something of a fan (come to think of it, “earning” is a bit of a stretch, too, but let’s not go there) of metaphors.  Perhaps that’s why I found my recent Father’s-Day-card shopping excursion so entertaining.

Father’s Day cards, in my opinion, are supposed to be funny -- goofy, cartoonish caricatures of Dad snoring loudly on the couch or money being vacuumed out of his wallet; jokes about Dad’s flatulence or his unhealthy relationship with the remote control, that sort of thing.  And every once in a while, those “For Dad -- Humor” cards actually deliver on their promise.

But the cards that had me doubled over in the aisle this week (and seriously, another couple minutes and I think they would’ve sent the pharmacist out to medicate me) weren’t the ones that were supposed to be funny -- they were the ones that were supposed to be sincere.

Maybe it’s because my dad has never been embarrassed about passing gas in front of his family, but reading through these cards, I was dumbstruck.

Just want you to know you’re being thought about and wished the best of everything on Father’s Day and always.

I know, I know -- it’s just so expressive, so emotionally honest, so raw . . . I, too, could barely contain myself, and I was out in public.  I mean, here is a card that says boldly, “You’re being thought about.  I’m not gonna say it’s by me or nothin’, but I’m pretty sure somebody’s thinking about you.”

If I gave that card to my father, he would think I was joking.

And if I gave it to him, I would be.  But evidently, people give these sorts of cards in all seriousness every year.

"It isn't always easy for people to find the right words," explains Ali Nicolle, who is the Father's Day product manager at Hallmark.  “But when people see the words on a card, they recognize the feelings as their own.  That's why we constantly are in touch with consumers -- so we can understand exactly what they want to say."

This, I think, makes the cards I found even more disturbing.

Though we may often fail to express our heartfelt feelings, we hope the ones we love will somehow know -- And that’s why there are days meant for revealing the love we feel but may not always show.

That’s not a Father’s Day card, that’s an apology, and a pretty lame one at that.  If I got that kind of card from the kind of son that needed to send that kind of card, I’d rather have it read something like this:

Dad, I know I’m pretty pathetic, and have generally been unable to articulate that I love you or care about you, or for that matter, demonstrate any sort of appreciation at all.  This is not because of my speech impediment -- I’m going to come clean here, I made that whole thing up -- but because I’m ungrateful, extremely insecure, and to be honest, I spent most of my childhood convinced you didn’t like me.  This (my therapist calls it “emotional distance”) is why I’m trying to reach out to you with a three-dollar greeting card that I bought at a grocery store.  If you feel, well, anything upon reading it and would like to, I don’t know, maybe give me a hug or something, that would be really, really, really great.  But if you don’t call me and pretend like you never got it, or maybe that you never knew me, you know, I’d understand that, too.

At least that way you’re not dancing around the issue.

I guess I just have a hard time envisioning who’s sending that card, or this one:

A Father is neither an anchor to hold us back nor a sail to take us there, but always a guiding light whose love shows us the way.

The warm light of your love shines in my memories and in my heart, reminding me of your guidance, your care and, most of all, your love.

Let’s not even talk about the redundancy -- I mean, the warm light of your love reminds me . . . of your love? -- that card would be almost as icky to send as it would be to receive.  I’d finish reading that card and go, “Um, yeah.  Can’t we just talk about baseball?”

Then there was the card whose front bore the inscription, “For Dad With Love and Respect,” and whose message inside began:

We’re different, you and I.  We have different personalities, perspectives and approaches.  That’s kept things interesting between us.

Seriously, that’s doesn’t sound like a Father’s Day card, that sounds like a counseling session -- or like somebody’s about to get fired.

And I love it when greeting cards get philosophical.  “What Is a Dad?  A Special Father’s Day Message,” read the front of one with a big brown bear on the cover.  It sounds like the line after that should be, “Tonight, on News 4 at 11.”

For me, these cards begged the question:  who has these kinds of greeting-card relationships with their fathers?  Who’s sending these cards?

It took me a while, but I finally figured it out -- hunters.

While all the “For Dad -- Humor” cards feature silly cartoons or old-time photos on the front, three out of every four “serious” cards picture some sort of stoic hunting scene -- bears, deer, ducks, pine trees, Cornish game hens and so forth.  Which leads me to two possible conclusions:

1.  Hunting is a metaphor for fatherhood.  (See, I actually do put that English degree to use on occasion.)

2.  Shooting things makes it hard to relate to your father.

Sadly, I only have a bachelor’s degree, so I can’t say for sure which one it is.

Either way, I’m going to go hit another card store to see if I can’t find something with a good fart joke.