He also sang this song. I don't remember the title or the composer, but the lyrics stuck with me:
Today, father, is Father's Day,
And we're giving you a tie.
It's not much at all, it is just our way of showing you,
We think you're a “regular guy.”
You say that it was nice of us to bother,
But it really was a pleasure to fuss.
For according to our mother, you're our father,
And that's good enough for us.
I sometimes wonder how important Father's Day is to dads. No fancy buffets at expensive restaurants for them. In fact, the extravagance might make them squirm a little. Moms don't squirm at restaurants on Mother's Day. I'll bet if rain doesn't flood the barbecue, and dads can man the grill with one eye or ear catching the ball game and one hand wrapped around a beer, they've got everything they want.
My dad didn't fire up the grill every summer weekend. Father's Day was a good, if unnecessary, excuse. We'd retire to the basement after eating, and drink Canadian whiskey, by the shot. I'd chase them with beer, Dad with wine. We'd talk for hours, and watch some TV together.
Dad passed on a dozen years ago. I don't remember what we said during those Father's Day conversations. The subject matter strikes me as unimportant now. I treasure the time we spent together, the connection, the bond itself. He didn't say as much, but I think – I hope – he treasured it, too....
Our bond, and his new tie.