I was raised to dismiss Father's Day as a faux holiday; a conspiracy between haberdashers and Hallmark; something to be derided if not ignored.This did not spare Bernie F.X. Gould of blessed memory from receiving a new necktie every year throughout the '50s and '60s. Now, I realize he would probably have much preferred a new ribbon for his circa 1935 Royal typewriter and a carton of Camel unfiltered cigarettes.
We stopped bestowing unwanted neckties and viyella shirts upon him during the '80s. By then, my father had upgraded beyond an IBM Selectric to a personal computer. It was huge and absolutely not portable. For any Father's Day we capitulated to noting, Daddy would probably have wanted floppy disks and a carton of Benson & Hedges cigarettes, the brand he started smoking as a health gesture.
My father died in 1998 at age 86 of -- no surprise -- emphysema and congestive heart failure. I inherited the Royal typewriter and tossed out the many cartons of cigarettes he had stashed throughout his home office.
This morning, I watched fathers of all ages stand up to receive a special benediction at the end of Mass and then make their way up the nave to receive a carnation. I experienced this as a sweet corrective to my family's view of Father's Day. Still, I could easily imagine how my father, if he were alive today, would probably have wanted to make a hasty exit so he could futz with his Blackberry and smoke.
