On Father’s Day, millions
of men around the
world will receive gifts from
their children, all manner of
gifts: pens, ties, shirts, tickets,
and tools. Some of these
gifts, such as T-shirts and mugs,
will display tributes such as “World’s
Greatest Dad,” “Super Dad,” and “Dad of
the Year.”
I was very proud, a few years ago,
when my kids gave me a T-shirt that
said “Dad of the Year,” until I saw another
father wearing a T-Shirt that
said “Dad of the Century.” This year,
I hope to get a T-shirt that says “Dad
of the Millennium,” but then I’m likely
to spot someone wearing one that says
“Dad of Eternity.”
Actually, I’m a little self-conscious about displaying
any type of superlative. I know I’m not the “World’s
Greatest Dad.” I’m not even in the Top 100 in the World
Dad Rankings. But I don’t want to be too hard on myself.
I’m a pretty good dad—good enough that if my street
had a dad ranking, I’d surely be in the Top Fifty. (At No.
1 is the guy who has installed a skateboard ramp and
extra-large trampoline for his kids, as well as a zip line
from his home to the hospital emergency room.)
It’s wonderful that many children think their
fathers are worthy of the “Dad Hall of Fame.” But most
fathers, if we’re honest with ourselves, will concede
that we fall short of such lofty status. We may strive
to be perfect dads, but how often do we achieve that?
Perhaps two or three days a week.
What happens on the other days? Well, maybe
we spend too much time working. When our children
ask us to do something with them, we say, “Not now.
I’m busy.”
“Dad, you’re always busy,” they say.
“Not on Sundays,” we say.
“That’s true,” they say. “On Sundays, you are free
during the commercial breaks of the football game.”
To be a good father, it’s important to make time for
your kids. But it’s also important for your kids to make
time for you. Sometimes all I want to do on a Saturday
morning is go for a long bike ride with my three kids. It
would be great if it would go like this:
Me: “Kids, let’s go for a bike ride.
The weather is perfect.”
Lekha: “Great idea, Dad.
Let me get the bikes and
helmets out.”
Divya: “I’ll fill
some water bottles.”
Rahul: “And I’ll
check the brakes and
tires.”
But here’s how it actually goes:
Me: “Anyone wanna go for a
bike ride?”
Lekha: “Not now, Dad. I have a
chemistry test on Monday.”
Divya: “I already got my
exercise for the day: putting away
all my laundry.”
Rahul: “Can we do it later,
Dad? I’m watching something
really interesting on C-Span.
Members of the House of Representatives
are debating whether to amend the Dodd-Frank
Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act to
provide relief to nonbanks from certain stress test
requirements under the act.”
I’d prefer if my 12-year-old son were into sports, so
we could bond over football, tennis, and golf. But he’s
really into politics, so we have to bond over C-Span
and “Breaking News” alerts on CNN. I keep reminding
myself that a good dad has to be open-minded and
accept his kids for who they are: their talents and
interests, strengths and shortcomings, choices of
career, and soulmates.
But it’s not that easy, of course. Kids often make
the wrong decisions or fall into bad habits, and we have
to set them straight. We have to be strict with them. We
can’t always be patient and loving.
A good dad has to be willing to hug his kids—and
also bug his kids. (“Do your homework now!”) He has
to be willing to commend his kids—and also offend
his kids. (“That song you’re listening to has terrible
lyrics!”) He has to be willing to inspire his kids—and
also make them perspire. (“We’re going for a bike ride
NOW whether you like it or not!”)
Compiled and partly written by Indian humorist MELVIN DURAI, author of the novel Bala Takes the Plunge.
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