June 12, 2002

Father's Day takes on new meaning

By GARRET LEIVA
Herald editor
       Of all the things I never expected in life - a million dollars, nutritious Twinkies, being drafted by the Detroit Lions - this Sunday one is coming true. I will be on the receiving end of a Father's Day card.
      For men across America, the third Sunday in June means another tie they'll wear once, a tool they'll never use, or various gadgets and gizmos destined for the back of the closet. It also means the greatest gift in the world - fatherhood. Truthfully, I'm blown away by the prospect of wearing a "#1 Dad" T-shirt.
      Father's Day. Since 1927, a date on the calendar to honor dad, daddy, pops or the old man. It is the one day out of the year when fathers are forbidden to mow the lawn, encouraged to play golf and given total TV remote control.
      When I was a young lad, it was imperative to say "Happy Father's Day" in a big way. I adhered to a simple card shopping mantra: bigger is better. If I could hold the card in one hand, it didn't measure up despite the sentiment inside. To a kid, nothing says "I love you" like a greeting card milled from a forest of sequoia trees.
      Now it is my turn to receive a "You're a doggone great dad" card with cartoonish canines driving cars, mowing the lawn or performing equally impossible biped tasks. It boggles my mind.
      Over the past few years, Father's Day has taken on a new connotation as childhood friends started having children. Suddenly, the same buddy who once picked a fight with a brick wall is now a father of two. Fatherhood has also transformed irresponsible, cartoon-watching, beer-drinking, laugh-at-our-own-bodily-functions college roommates.
      Now my daughter is the one drinking from a bottle and messing her pants while I watch Sponge Bob. While time can change our childish ways, good cartoons never grow old.
      Undoubtedly, I'll cherish my first ever Father's Day. As I will each passing year, as I go from da-da, to daddy to dad to the old man. For now, however, I'm taking advantage of Ella hanging on every word and smiling at my attempts at humor. I'm also stockpiling up on hugs, kisses, and sitting on daddy's lap. This in light of the approaching terrible two's and door-slamming-eye-rolling teen angst years.
      While my dad received his fair share of tacky ties, Old Spice cologne and golf balls for Father's Day, I'll be spared these traditional gifts. Golfing is not my bag, ties are for weddings and funerals and I'm not the sea faring, Old Spice type (although my dad is no Ahab himself). Instead, I anticipate socks. Lots and lots of socks. Impractical people need serviceable footwear to keep grounded.
      Come Sunday morning, I'll forgo the funny pages and TV remote and open the envelope on the kitchen table addressed to someone I never thought I'd meet. This Father's Day there is no need for ties, tools, gadgets or gizmos. Not when the greatest gift is asleep in your arms.
      Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com