Father’s Day

Let us now praise Father’s Day, which I declared years ago to be MY holiday, eschewing Mother’s Day as homage to the Sadie, as in spoiled-rotten married lady who views her motherhood not as the gift of nurturing a new life, but as “a lovely token of my love’s affection.” Barf.


Father’s Day is an acknowledgment of the triumph of discipline over nature, of self-respect over self-indulgence.
It’s a day to celebrate both family men and, in recent years, single mother breadwinners, those people who carry the load to ensure the economic well-being of their kids.
Let’s be honest: for most of us, they call it “work” for a reason. I salute those people, men and women, who trudge through a daily grind that might include brutal commutes, jealous and over-competitive co-workers and sadistic bosses.
As an acquaintance once said, “My wife and children live the life that I aspire to.”
So, indeed, let us now praise fathers and ersatz fathers: best wishes for “your” day, live long and prosper, and may your tribes increase.