As I was making my way through last Sunday’s newspaper, I encountered ad after ad, each beckoning me to buy something for my dad for this Father’s Day. From grills, cars and computer printers to DVD players, electronic shavers and flat-screen TVs, the ads seemed to know exactly what a father would want.
The ads all showed at least one male (who probably doesn’t even have kids) smiling next to a product that seemed to make the world a brighter place for him. And if the ad’s creators were creative, they might even have the male put his arm around a child, since this is blatant evidence of his fatherhood.
I have nothing against ads and understand the necessity of them, but the advertisers are forgetting one thing: the meaning of Father’s Day. To be a father is to raise a child. Any dad who takes pride in his fatherhood does not want a new grill, printer, flat-screen TV or an electronic shaver. A “father” is not made by the acquisition of such commodities, nor is fatherhood improved or sustained by such an acquisition.
Any father who is proud of his title wants that which is expressive of it. He wants “something” that shows his role is appreciated. And this “something” usually isn’t scientifically quantifiable. Things like love, appreciation, admiration, respect, etc., are generally in higher demand by fathers than computers, iPods, cameras and cellphones. In fact, if fathers could buy the former, the latter would soon be out of business.
But it could be that the whole idea of Father’s Day is simply misbegotten. Maybe fathers don’t “want,” in the sense we use the term, anything at all. Maybe they simply want that which is truly representative of their fatherhood.
Under ideal circumstances, fatherhood is a choice, one that demonstrates his desire to take on the responsibilities and obligations that come with having a child. It shouldn’t be something that just suddenly sounds good to him, a surprise emotion. Prior to his choice of deciding to become a father, a man should have asked himself why he wants to be a dad.
What’s in it for him? Will he enjoy caring for and guiding the child through the various stages of his life? Will he be satisfied with a child who may not meet his expectations? Will he still find value in fatherhood if it asks more from him than he had anticipated? Will he enjoy watching his child blossom?
And will those blossoming moments happily remind him of his childhood?
Therefore, if a man decides to take that step and have a child, then he already knows that having and raising a child are of value to him. Thus, to raise a child is to continually foster a value in his own life – a value that need not be substantiated by his offspring giving him a grill, or a year’s subscription to HBO.
It is a value that, if he is willing to put forth the necessary effort, has the potential to return exponential dividends.
The commercialization of fatherhood puts it in danger of being viewed as something without intrinsic value, something that is already present within the mere act of raising a child.
But most fathers won’t be fooled. Come Father’s Day, they know that when they receive a DVD or tickets to a baseball game, their rewards for the role they have chosen to undertake had already been coming long before.
Which is why, when people ask me, “What are you getting your dad for Father’s Day?,” I will always respond with: “Myself.”
Happy Father’s Day, dad.
Nick Nordstrom (nxixcxk@gmail.com) is a part-time massage therapist and a full-time student at Metro State College majoring in philosophy.
