The College Fix

As regular readers of The College Fix likely know, even fun holidays like Father’s Day aren’t immune from the grumblings of the politically correct set.

For example, check out yesterday’s Philly.com: Justine McDaniel lectures us on how Father’s Day cards reinforce gender stereotypes, yada yada yada, writing “How best to insult my dad with one of these ludicrously gendered cards?”

The title of the piece is “Instead of saying ‘I love you, Dad,’ society tells us to make a fart joke.” Wha-a-a? Maybe McDaniel  shops for cards in all the wrong places, for I’ve never had a problem finding cards that say “I Love You, Dad,” even at the local grocery store.

And I buy such cards for my dad. I have no problem saying that phrase to him, and never have.

Unfortunately, however, dad does commit the “sin” of laughing at “ludicrously gendered cards” when I do happen get him one. (My mom does too, by the way, on Mother’s Day and on birthdays.)

McDaniel goes to note pretty much everything her dad did and does, pointing out how he defies the male stereotype here and there. OK, good for her (and him). The thing is, despite how hard so many may argue otherwise, there are gender differences among us, and people do like to laugh at them at times. This is because most people enjoy humor and like to laugh, things which perpetually seem to elude the worshipers of political correctness.

(Left: Pop and me circa 1966.)

Even though my father is a political progressive and adored Barack Obama and Joe Biden (to be fair, being from the First State he’s always liked Joe Biden), he actually has a sense of humor. He’s rarely laughed all out, but when he does, watch out! Some moments when this raucous laughter occurred were during an episode of “Taxi” when Danny DeVito started singing into his microphone after making sure everyone else had left for the day, and again in the theater during a viewing of 1982’s “The Thing.” When several potential “Things” were tied to a couch, and then one of them began to transform into the creature … dad lost it. (He had to see the 1982 version because the original 1951 film scared the beejeebees out of him as a kid. He mostly just laughed at the newer one.)

My folks married young, and dad was only 21 when I arrived. It was great having young parents; more so now in my middle age (yep, my folks are alive and kicking, both in good health). Dad would often come out to play steady pitcher for the street’s kids’ backyard wiffle ball games, and steady quarterback for our Nerf football games.

He coached our neighborhood little league team one year, and in a move that would shock contemporary parents, he benched yours truly for one game for bunting without permission. (Oh, did I mention I made that blunder with bases loaded, two outs, and the bottom half of the game’s last inning?) He would show no favoritism, dammit!!

Dad continued to demonstrate his athletic prowess in my early years of teaching as we played together on a local softball team. We also ran quite a few 5Ks together in those years. Though he has some back issues now, he still cuts all his own grass and does all the yard work at the ripe age of 74.

Pop is also a musician. He taught himself to play the guitar in high school, and he played in various bands during those years.

(Right: My mom and dad in 1990.)

His interest in music led me to the saxophone in elementary school, and I continue to play to this day (although not very much, currently … and sadly). Dad taught guitar to people of all ages every night after he came home from work to make some extra money. On weekends he played in a wedding band called The Supreme Court. He was on the bass guitar in that band; guess who played the (regular) guitar: A student he had taught the instrument years before.

Every now and then dad would yell to me “Dave, grab your sax!” This meant I was to meet him in the music room he had built downstairs where we would jam on sax and guitar for an hour or two. Even though dad had no formal musical training, he never had any difficulty automatically making the necessary chord changes when we played together (since the tenor sax and guitar are of different keys).

Although there are many aspects of life with dad that I adore, probably the best is that, being that he was so young, I could talk to him. And, he would always oblige — whenever I wanted (or needed) to so indulge.

In those talks, a phrase he said often was “You’ll see one day,” meaning, when I became an adult — and a father — I would better understand what he was saying. Back in the day, sometimes I would scoff at the notion. Many years later, like now, all I can do is nod my head and say “Man, you were soooo right.”

Thanks, dad. For everything. I love you.

Pop and yours truly, 2014

IMAGES: jekson jl/Shutterstock.com, Dave Huber

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