Father's Day: Not So Much.

My standard response today evolved to "happy humbug to you, too." and it seemed to satisfy those whose interest in my answer was to be sure that words came back to them in response to the unthinking cordial greeting they put out.

It is not Fathers Day, it is Sunday. Sunday, when Jesus rose from the dead and we go to church for worship services. Fathers Day is an exercise in feel-good humbuggery, and it wouldn't surprise me to find out that Hallmark was 98% of the reason for it. You know what I did for Fathers Day?

Guess. Go on, guess.

No? Okay, I'll tell:

Bupkis, That's what. Same as for Valentines Day and whatever other holidays you can come up with to sell cards and cheap presents.

Fathers Day is every day like this last Thursday, when I came home and my kids (the ones that can walk) came to the door as I came in from work and gave me hugsnkisses. I kissed #3 on his melon and let him keep eating, and kissed L. SHAZAM, I know without cards and ties and golfing divot repair tools that they all love the daylights out of me. Earlier, I had called my dad from work and asked if he needed some cables for an audio setup he's putting together, before we offered them for sale to the general public. That would be the audio setup for which I managed to get him a free amplifier. The amplifier I made up some quicky patch cords to test out. Yeah, he knows that when I kissed him goodbye and told him I loved him before I drove off, I meant it.

This past Mothers Day we agreed the Mexicans have it right, observing it on Saturday, due to the extreme Bad Day action we had until L. changed her mind from it being Mothers Day to Sunday. Hey, make me a deal: no holidays except Christmas on Sundays, okay?

Oh, and by the way, don't hold your breath waiting for a Christmas card from me.