Father's Day

 

Father's Day somehow seems less celebratory than Mother's Day. The schmaltz abounds for mother's day. All our mothers seem bound for glory as saints they never were simply because we love or loved them. While fathers often just get honorable mentions.

I understand that. In my house the father was a revered person. When he was home we ate in the dining room. He always had an office lined with books and his presence was a time for better manners, more serious conversations, or the ultimate decision. 

And yet I adored my father. I wished he would want to go out and throw the ball with us, or do something fathers on television did, but that wasn't who he was. It might have even been who he wished he could be, but he grew up in a formal household that left him feeling obligated to do everything with great dignity. 

He succeeded at that. No matter what my father did, it felt noble and dignified and it felt like a great honor for me to be part of it. I wanted to grow up to be my father and I was a girl.