“The older I get, the smarter
my father seems to get.”
—Tim Russert
As a callow youth in the 1970s, I made a show of claiming that the Days honoring our parents—mothers in May, fathers in June—were hollow tools foisted upon the mindless masses to feed our society’s unquenchable corporate thirst for profit, or words to that effect. (I said a lot of stupid things in the 1970s.) That is, until my mother quietly stated that whatever I might think about the evils of commercialization, she didn’t have a problem with getting a little acknowledgement every once in a while. Wrist sufficiently slapped, I fell into line with these May and June duties.
Father’s Day was still fairly tenuous in that era. Although it had officially sprouted in 1910, it wasn’t made into a national holiday until 1972. Butted up as it was against the burgeoning second wave of feminism, there were those among us who figured men got plenty of nods without needing a day devoted to them. As far as being dads, we wondered what they even did to deserve plaudits. Plenty—even the best of them—merely added a candle or two to a household cake otherwise pretty much baked, iced, and served up by Mom.
Beyond feminist reservations, reality in general often didn’t (and still doesn’t) square with the dads Hallmark was selling. Some dads disappear altogether, or never show up in the first place. One in four children grow up without fathers, and nearly two million fathers raise kids as single parents. Peppered throughout these statistics are stepfathers, families with two dads, and kids raised in communities who share child-rearing duties beyond the immediate family.
In a 2018 article in The Atlantic, Julie Beck opens,
In the lead-up to Mother’s and Father’s Day, the greeting-card aisle presents doors to two alternate universes. One is a wonderland of blooming flora and boats bobbing on tranquil lakes, where grateful baby animals snuggle their protective parents and everyone speaks in heartfelt but generic verse. The other is a cartoon dystopia where crudely drawn characters live out a stereotypical parenting farce. Here, every child is an unmanageable hellion or a perfect angel, mothers are chore-obsessed disciplinarians who must physically hide from the endless demands of their mob of loin-fruit, and fathers are … off golfing. Or grilling. Or on the toilet. It’s basically Family Circus, but with more fart jokes and everybody’s constantly drinking because they hate their kids so much. But in a funny way.
Things are a little more flexible these days, although still slow sailing. You can find lots more variety in the aisles, even since Beck’s 2018 article or this 2019 one in USA Today, sporting the headline, “Grilling-themed Father’s Day cards are at steak: Some folks are done with dad stereotypes.” The article quotes a greeting-card writer citing one of her most popular cards: “I’m so glad you never made me camp.”
You also have, of course, the option to find other activities altogether. On her website and podcast, psychotherapist Teri Cole suggests alternative activities for folks who have “complicated” or nonexistent relationships with their fathers. You can, for example, celebrate the adults who were there for you instead of the father who wasn’t, or create a gathering with your chosen family rather than the one you were born into.
Regardless of our circumstances, for those of us looking for card-writing ideas, there are tons of options. In addition to racks of cards for sale in brick-and-mortar stores that increasingly provide more realistic depictions of fathers, plentiful online “how-to” resources provide phrases and sentiments you can either pilfer or use as catalysts for writing your own.
You can choose among cards that are humorous, heartfelt, short, inspirational, or embellished with famous quotes. You can find cards organized by specific relationships. (From a spouse, a kid, a brother.) You can support individual creators, which I always like to do, through venues like Etsy, which offers way more things than knitted crafts and plushies. A quick scan turns up billions of cards, some of which I don’t care for, but plenty of which I like a lot. My favorite features one of the iconic early-Beatles images and the caption: “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, Hey Dad.” But then that’s just me. Anything involving cats or Beatles is probably going to end up in my shopping basket. (Despite that fact that, technically, this particular card is two “nah”s short.)
Sites that offer templates are plentiful. A couple are here and here. I’m betting that you can do better, but perhaps among them something will spark an idea that is perfect for you.
Shutterfly also offers templates but, happily, more—advice on how to approach and write cards that will mean something to both of you. An intro here proposes four easy steps:
1. Wish him a Happy Father’s Day.
2. Thank him for the role he’s played in your life, citing specific qualities you admire or what you’re grateful for. If your relationship is complicated, address “what is positive and true.”
3. Share a sentimental or funny memory.
4. End with a warm and heartfelt closing.
Me, back in the day, I often skipped the store-bought and made my own cards. One year, I gave him a bobble duck. Daddy had no idea why, and nor did I, but that duck sat on his desk for decades.
I strongly encourage the homemade card; the bobble duck I leave to you and your God.
Lagniappe: If you aren’t in Kansas, it sucks to be you, because I’m sure no other state in the Union is celebrating Juneteenth. If you do reside here—and by “here” I mean everywhere from KC to Wichita to Manhattan (Kansas) to little old Junction City—activities of every sort await you, from music, drumming, parades, and food to special film viewings, art activities, history presentations, tributes to women composers, gospel, and much more. Find it all in The Voice. Incidentally, for year-round enjoyment, the Kansas African American History Museum (TKAAM) offers a staggering amount of programming and information about the past and living history of Black Kansans—so staggering, in fact, that the museum will move to new, larger and more accessible digs in the foreseeable future. The campaign now underway was kick-started with a $1 million grant.
I enjoyed reading this, Annie, because you covered most of the bases, and you did it so well!
I remember your mom and dad well. Sometimes people leave lasting pictures and tender memories—almost the way a snapshot does. They were so dear. Thanks for your thorough treatment of this complicated holiday. You inspire me. Eloise