Vocal point: Sentiments feel phony for some card shoppers

Father’s Day is a time of mixed feelings for many men and women.

Some of us had a decent, upright father. We worshiped the ground he walked on and wanted to grow up to be just like him. Dad became our best friend and confidant. With a dad like that, Father’s Day is easy. Find a sentimental card, talk about his favorite car or sports team, have a nice meal and reminisce about the old days. Maybe go to the park and play catch.

Others grew up with an abusive, addicted or absent father. We grew up despising, if not outright hating him. We grew up saying “we would never be like him,” and we wouldn’t dream of confiding our deepest feelings, afraid of his criticism, shaming and ridicule. With a dad like that, Father’s Day is a dark, brooding time and a struggle with deeply conflicting emotions.

Most of us had fathers somewhere in between. At times we looked up to him, as children always will, but at other times we were afraid of him, too. Is Daddy coming home angry tonight? What if he starts drinking?

Life could be like magic, full of sunny days and laughter. Or the clouds might roll in and we’d jerk away as if from a hot stove.

It should be no surprise that picking a Father’s Day card can be an ordeal for a lot of people. They’ve got to find one that’s safe, that says you remember him but doesn’t lie about how you really feel.

I once overheard a young woman searching for a Father’s Day card say “Why do I do this when I hate him?”

Bingo.

“You were always there for me” – nope, he was late for my wedding, he was late for concerts, he was late for absolutely everything.

“When I hurt myself you always comforted me” – no way; he would say I was a sissy and laugh sarcastically. A trip to the emergency room was a huge inconvenience. How could he be angry at me when there was blood everywhere, and I needed stitches?

“You taught me how to love others” – well, not really. He never said anything good about anyone, not the neighbors, not the pastor and certainly not about some minorities. Oh yeah, and he used to have horrible fights with Mom, late-night yelling and screaming fests, but the bedroom was closed so we weren’t supposed to hear. I’d have cried myself to sleep if I hadn’t been scared spitless. I’m not sure I even love him; well, maybe a little.

“Happy Father’s Day, thinking of you” – here’s the card I can live with, it’s honest but the words don’t come near any old wounds. The card is plain, just like my feelings. There’s nothing special on the cover, just some standard masculine imagery – a bat and ball, a car and a hand tool.

Years ago, I observed a young dad teaching his daughter to ride a bicycle. She would crash after a few feet and was getting frustrated. Crying softly, she said “I can’t do it, Daddy, I can’t!” But dad would not let her quit. He insisted she keep going. So she tried again and she crashed again. “Daddy, I can’t do it!” she sobbed, now louder. Dad stood firm. She crashed again and again. Each time the wails got louder, but dad would not give in. I finally had to turn away.

Some time after that, while taking a walk near 16th and Progress, I ran across a completely different example of a dad and a daughter learning to ride. When she crashed and started to cry, dad rushed up, held her close and comforted her. After a few minutes in his arms, she’d gather up her courage and try again. This dad never insisted his daughter keep on going. She wanted to.

It’s been almost fifteen years since I observed these two contrasting examples of a father’s love. And I wonder which of these daughters has the hardest time picking out a Father’s Day card today?