“I’ve got this,” my son, David, told me as he reached for the check.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
And my wife, Lori, chimed in, “You don’t need to pay for our dinner.”
We were visiting David in his new home. His girlfriend had driven down to meet us for dinner at a favorite dinning spot of his.
When David let us know he was firm about picking up the tab, I had to tease just a bit. “Let me get a picture of this: you paying for our dinner. I’ll remind you every time we eat out with you.”
The TV commercial about the retired dad and working son popped into my mind. The mom, dad, son, and his wife or girlfriend, are all dining out. The son reaches for the dinner ticket as the camera closes in on Dad. You hear him asking himself, “Is it that time? The son picks up the check.”
Then the camera shifts to the son, “I’m still working,” you hear him thinking. “He’s retired.”
The commercial is actually about the father being concerned about the son’s financial future, while the son is concerned that the father has saved enough.
I’m far from retired and am still saving, saving, saving, and I pride myself in being the one who reaches for the check when I’m dining out with my children. (Don’t let them know this.)
What is significant is that moment when children move into a providing role for the parents, even if that step may be a tiny one.
What matters to the father, you see, is that attitude of gratitude—the fact that the child cares enough to try.
“Hey, thanks for all you’ve done,” David said, referring not only to me but to Lori, as well. “You all have done way more than enough.”
Do you want to give Dad a good Father’s Day?
Just say thanks.
Forget about the ideal gift or the perfect card, although there’s certainly nothing wrong with trying.
Just say thanks.
G.K. Chesterton once said, “I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.”
It doesn’t need to be complicated; don’t balk because you can’t talk with the eloquence of a gifted speaker.
Just look Dad in the eyes and say, “Thanks.”
He’ll probably shrug it off because he won’t know how to respond. That’s okay, just smile, and say, “I mean it.”
And if you’re the son, you’ll probably shuffle your feet, or shift your eyes as both you and Dad start looking for the TV clicker, or one of you asks Mom to pass the mashed potatoes, because men tend to get uneasy about the interpersonal stuff of life.
If you’re the daughter, you’ll hug dad, and he probably won’t know what to do, so he’ll mumble that he loves you, or call you by your pet name.
If you’re still hesitant to say, “Thank you,” it might help to write it down, so you can hand it to Dad.
Make a list.
Start with your childhood.
What about the times Dad played with you? Maybe it was sports, maybe it was teaching you to ride a bike, or a horse, or later on, how to drive a car.
What about the times Dad called to check on you, just to make sure you were ok?
Remember those corny jokes he told you when you were a kid, and how you still laugh when you think about them?
Or the time Dad embarrassed you by grilling that guy with question after question when he showed up unannounced to take you on a date.
And those times Dad sat and listened to your sad story about how you were rejected?
What about the times you needed money for this or that.
And Dad was there.
Always.
For you.
And if Dad is no longer with you, pause.
Close your eyes.
Think of the little, itsy, bitsy, stuff Dad did just for you, the things he did that made Dad, well, Dad.
And even if he had some flaws, maybe some major ones, still, find something he did right.
And give thanks.
I’m thinking of my Dad, and yes, my father-in-law too.
And how anxious Dad was to reach for the ticket.
And of the time I got there first.