What 5 Father’s Day Cards Taught Me about Being a Dad | ✉️ no. 012

Fatherhood According to Greeting Cards

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Time to shop for a Father’s Day card . . .

In honor of Father’s Day, I decided to give myself a crash course in fatherhood by studying the greeting cards I found at my local grocery store:

I. Grilling

“Hope your Father’s Day is done to perfection!”

Mastering the grill and providing charred meats for loved ones is part of being a dad, primal: Man, Fire, Raw Meat!

Unfortunately, I do not know how to grill. In fact, I’ve never owned a grill or grilled anything in my entire life. I used a George Foreman Grill once—does that count as proper grilling?

I’m approaching 40, and I have made no time to master any grills. To make matters worse, I lack the accoutrements of a grill master: No oven mitts, no steel spatula, no apron with a punny name like The Grillfather, and no chef hat with a funny declaration like The Daddio Patio or Mr. Good Lookin’ Is Cookin’.

What will my kids think when they see me dumping a bagged salad into a plastic bowl while other dads are out there in the sun mastering grills, lording over fiery steel grates, smoke pluming upwards as they flip juicy burger patties, the scent of barbecued meats wafting away from their patios and permeating the neighborhood with one of the signature smells of summer?

I rummage through the cupboards and find the George Foreman Grill buried under orphaned Rubbermaid containers that lost their lids about five years ago: The longest journey begins with a single step, a motivational poster once reminded me.

II. Exploring

“Thank you for always showing me the way. Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

“Do you know what side of campus we’re on now?”

“Northside?”

“Southwest.”

A colleague of mine recently gave me a tour of our university’s campus in a kind and thoughtful attempt to help me better understand the geography of my new workplace. Their playful quizzing over the course of a lengthy afternoon walk reinforced how directionally illiterate I am.

Afterwards, they gifted me a campus map.

I get lost going everywhere, always have.

Before every iPhone and vehicle dashboard were equipped with GPS, I had a Garmin set up above the CD player in my Toyota Yaris: What a time!

When someone broke into my car and stole the Garmin—but mercifully left my CD of Bon Jovi’s Slippery When Wet—I spent a week white-knuckling it everywhere listening to “Livin’ On a Prayer,” terrified I’d take the wrong onramp on some sprawling Southern California freeway and end up at a Starbucks in Bakersfield instead of my cashiering job at a grocery store in Orange County.

A dad should be a navigator, posed like Washington Crossing the Delaware, his puffed up chest pointing his family toward every destination, known and unknown: Confident Navigator, Master Explorer.

But what if I’m the explorer in training? How do I tell my kids dad might never make it home if his iPhone runs out of battery? Siri, where’s my dad?

Likely driving somewhere in the wrong direction, anxious, sweating, and listening to Bon Jovi: It doesn’t matter if we make it or not.

III. Fixing

“To a Dad who needs no improvement. Happy Father’s Day.”

One of my early pop cultural role models of both masculinity and fatherhood was Tim “The Tool Man” Taylor from TV’s Home Improvement. He taught me that men grunt, wear tool belts, use power tools with reckless abandon, and aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty.

Dads, in other words, should be able to build things and fix them when they break.

And yet it once took me four hours to build an IKEA bookshelf, and the walls in our old apartment were covered with crooked family pictures hanging from asymmetrical nails. These days I find myself struggling to build my toddlers’ new toys or pieces of furniture: Some assembly and a competent father required.

My kids deserve a dad like the rooster in this card. He’s brimming with the confidence of someone who doesn’t need to ask for help when he goes to Home Depot. He can definitely fix the faucet handle that keeps coming off and falling into the sink. Coffee, safety goggles, tool belt, work boots, surrounded by extension cords, and in the garage ready to tinker at his workbench, I aspire to be more like this capable rooster.

IV. Farting

“You’re a one-man band, Dad! Happy Father’s Day.”

I’m a private person, and I try to practice what I personally think are good manners even when I’m in my home and surrounded by the unconditional love of my wife and kids. There’s a time and a place for my business, and I try to be mindful of preserving the air quality of those around me.

But the balding, middle-aged father in this card reminds me to be less inhibited and let it rip: dads burp, snort, snore, and find great relief from cropdusting the living room with their noxious farts. This is not a Victorian tea party—don’t be so precious.

Folks say you should embrace getting older, and this self-satisfied farting dad on the front of this card reminds me not to fear middle age: I, too, can lose my hair, nap on the couch, and announce my presence not with my voice but with an assortment of other bodily noises and offensive smells.

This is getting older.

This is being a dad.

This is legacy.

V. Reading

“You’re one awesome dad!”

Is the only Father’s Day card I can relate to what appears to be a tired Jack Russell Terrier—clearly Wishbone after he retired—wearing old-man glasses and reading a book in bed? Is this my future? The card my kids will buy me years from now? It reminds me of you, daddy!

Some dads grill or explore or fix the house or create laughter with their well-timed belching, but I’m the studious, boring dad who reads in bed? When did this happen? And why do I like this card so much?

What does your dad do?

He sits and reads a lot. Sometimes he falls asleep and drools on the pages.

I want to be the dad who lives and creates great stories—not just the old fart that reads them.

Long story short: I need to get my life together.

Postscript: Hang Loose!

“Kick back and hang loose! It’s Father’s Day.”

After much reflection, I’ve decided this Corgi gets it right.

Look at him: All smiles, fun t-shirt, not a care in the world. He’s here to party. If this Corgi was your dad, I bet you’d always be having a great time.

Me, meanwhile, I’m always so anxious, so worried, and routinely fighting off fits of sadness. I often feel inadequate as a dad, especially by the caricatured standards of the Greeting Card Father. All these greeting card dads are cooking, exploring, fixing things, or enjoying a carefree afternoon of ripping farts and drinking beer and eating pizza.

Me? I’m over here wringing my hands, stuck in my head: You’re not doing enough. What will the kids think of you when they’re older?

So, this year, I’m taking inspiration from this Corgi and, as the card says, I’m going to kick back and hang loose! I’m going to try and have some fun for once.

Here’s to celebrating fatherhood rather than lamenting all the ways we might fall short.

Happy Father’s Day 🧡

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