Unconventional Father's Day Gifts

I am about to go to my dad's house to celebrate the 36th annual Father's Day Celebration. And by celebration I mean a couple of hours of sitting around, sparse conversation, general disinterest in any gifts presented, and finally, a relieved good-bye; which includes setting up a lunch date for when things are back to normal. A promise to meet for lunch on a day that isn't so loaded with fatherly appreciation. I appreciate my father, I just do it better on 364 days out of the year.

My dad isn't into holidays, often forgetting even the "big" ones. He doesn't enjoy celebration, for the most part. Actually, that is incorrect. My dad does enjoy celebrating things. A lunch after a good report from the cardiologist. A lunch after my new job offer. A breakfast after I successfully returned home from NYC. Small every day things. If each of these "accomplishments" called for a cake, a card, and a visit...he would be just as disinterested. My brother and sister have yet to realize this (which cements my belief that I am the only one who really "gets" my dad), and still barge in on the obligatory days loaded down with gifts he doesn't want, cake he won't eat, and extended family he doesn't want to see. So, I work around these visits in order to have some low key time with dad. I can't just let the day pass, my guilt prevents that, so I visit with him and try to do something for him to make his life easier. That something stopped including filling his home with junk and frou frou several years ago.

I could open a pawn shop with all the ill advised gifts that I have bestowed on dad. A VCR. A boom box. Kitchen gadgetry. Shorts. Bedding. Movies for the never used VCR. CDs for the rarely used boom box. Books on tape. All met with the usual "you shouldn't have spent any money". In my younger (debt ridden) days, this reaction infuriated me. But then, it clicked. I got it. His lackluster enthusiasm can be attributed to two things. Number one, these are things that will work perfectly while I am present; but the second I leave, the item will become inoperable. It will warrant a phone call from him and then a long complicated explanation of why the print on the cd needs to face up for it to play. I went so far as to take pictures of the controls on the electronics so that I could quickly, in help desk fashion, diagnose what he is doing wrong and correct via the telephone. Honestly, much as I love my dad, it is like instructing the Incredible Hulk in how to fold a fitted sheet. He finally just began accepting the gifts and placing them in the room that holds all things he has no interest in...the spare bedroom, which also holds his never used rolling walker (I tried to tell the doctor...), his mother's old family bible, the spare bed pads from his hospital stay, and several silk arrangements left over from various family funerals. I don't even bother with a card anymore. I keep his files for him, and often find the cards shoved into the same piles of junk mail, alongside invitations from AARP and American Express. Secondly, I think deep down, my dad is afraid that I have run my credit card up to the maximum (which I WAS guilty of over a decade ago) and he will somehow be held responsible for the bill.

This year, it's in the bag. My dad presented a need and I listened. He will receive two gifts from me today.

Last month, my dad showed up for our weekly pill party with an unusual request. I arrange my dad's pills in a pill box once a week; because given a bag of bottles and instructions, my dad would never be able to take the right pill at the right time. As I arranged the pills in a fashion that, hopefully, will keep him alive and alert for years to come, my dad asked if I could trim his eyebrows. "No sweat", I reply. I gathered my grooming tools and went to work on the forest on his forehead. I plucked and cut, dividing the monobrow into two thickets. He then asked if I could trim his sideburns. "Sure, no problem", I replied as I leveled them up. "How about my ears?" was next. I cut the wiry hair over his ears. "No, I meant the hair INSIDE my ears", he said. Houston, we have a problem. I was using regular scissors, not any sort of professional (safe) utensil. It was weird enough placing my hands on my dad's head, something I can honestly say I don't remember ever doing. But, helping him cheat age by clearing out the ear canal...I can't. Unplussed, he then requested assistance with the nostril hair. No can do. I apologized and advised him that his barber could assist with that. On my last visit with him, I noted that things had gotten out of hand...or out of nose, I should say. This Father's Day, my dad will be the recipient of a Norelco facial grooming device, one that can handle all the trouble spots...ears, nose, eyebrows, and side burns. I fully realize that this is not a device my dad will likley operate on his own, and I can't say that I blame him. His hands aren't as steady as they used to be and putting something up his nose that has rapidly spinning razor blades on the end of it is probably ill advised. However, this device certainly beats my kitchen shears, and so not only am I giving him this device, I will offer my services as his groomer.

The other gift will make his life easier as well. I will wash his dog. Actually, it is my dog, but my dad has had custody of Rusty for 10 years, ever since Rusty redid the carpeting in my apartment and digested 1/4 of my coffee table. The cute pup that my dad took in is now a large brown sow. My dad is kinder to that dog that he ever was to us kids! Rusty has a daily diet that includes bologna, vienna sausauges, dog food, dog biscuits, and ice cream. Therefore, Rusty's slim and trim (easy to lift) hounddog physique died about 9 years ago. I gave up trying to advise my dad in proper pup nutrition about 8.5 years ago. Rusty has a thick brown coat that attracts dirt like white on rice. My dad usually bathes Rusty each week, using a hose and a scrub brush. Basically, Rusty simply stands in line, behind the car and the lawnmower, as things my dad has to wash. Since his surgery, my dad is unable to lift or bend over; therefore, it is now difficult to distinguish Rusty from the dry red dirt background. This upsets my dad, he likes a clean house, a clean car, and a clean dog. Dad can manage the house and the car. Rusty is out of his control though. Therefore, this morning, I will don my own car washing uniform and wash that dog.

I am sure that the prodigal siblings will show up just after I have finished with Rusty, and I will look a hot mess (literally); but I couldn't care less. Whatever. I'll know that their cake will spoil and their gifts will be assigned a location in the room that time forgot, but clean Rusty and nosehair free dad will be sufficiently celebrated. No card necessary.