Today was Father’s Day and we didn’t do anything real special. Just spent the day relaxing. Come to think of it, it was like most Sunday afternoons, especially in the summer and especially during the fast when there’s nothing else going on anyway. My wife did prepare a very nice lunch with her newest dessert, a delicious lenten chocolate cake with Boston creme filling. Just for fun I took the kids down the street to the annual Father’s Day car show (see photo). We took a little stroll, bought some cotton candy and came back home. They got a little wet outside later in the afternoon and that was pretty much it. Just a relaxing day.
Nothing out of the ordinary. For that matter, I suppose most Sundays are Father’s days in my opinion. The only difference is that today people wished me a happy day. It’s a fun day with the kids. After all, they only learn to truly value their mothers and fathers as they grow older, which is natural I imagine. It’s only later in life that we come to really appreciate all the things the ones who loved and cared after us have done for us our whole lives. It’s as if we never even noticed. Or, as J. M. Barrie suggests in his children’s classic Peter Pan, we were asleep while it happened. Actually, he gives more of the credit to mothers than fathers. So, on this day of dads and fathers and papas I recognize our always vigilant and attentive mothers and share Barrie’s words:
“It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you can’t) you would see your own mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. when you wake in the morning, the naughtinesses and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind; and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.”