Got several mug orders recently as Father’s Day bears down on us.  One guy said it was a special gift for his dad, who reads the blog every morning.   “Then he makes me read it out loud to the whole family so he can laugh all over again,” he said.  My apologies to you and your family, if you’re the one who got that mug.  That’s a lot to put up with.  I almost sent it to you for free of charge.  Almost, not quite.

Father’s Day is really kind of a tough day for fathers.  It’s not like Mother’s Day is for mothers.  Men are generally opposed to gifts, whether giving or receiving, and nearly all displays of emotion.  If there is something we want, we just go out and buy it.  To try to explain color, size, wattage, fit, brand, model number, return policy, Consumer Guide rankings, adapter requirements, electrical or cordless, hard back or soft cover, whole bean or course ground, classic fit or trim fit, pocket or no pocket, extended warranty or no extended warranty is all just too much to have to convey.  We prefer to just handle it ourselves.

Of course, you don’t believe us when we tell you that.  You want to spend hard earned money on things you just know we want. And because of our previously stated aversion to emotions, we accept them and do our best to appear excited, as excited as we can allow ourselves to pretend to be.  We toss the gift receipt, saying “I wouldn’t change a thing” because to return it would be emotional.  

Instead it goes on a shelf in the garage next to the Christmas gifts, to be sold at an estate sale after we die and you’re cleaning out the house so the deal can be closed.  “Can’t believe he never even opened that,” you’ll say.  “I could have sworn that’s what he wanted.”  Then the $200 gift will be sold at the estate sale for a price negotiated down to six bucks to someone who will give it to their dad for Father’s Day, but will  have only wasted six bucks.  The cycle perpetuates itself.

It took decades, but I finally learned the secret of gift giving with my own father before he shuffled off this mortal coil.  Hanes white cotton briefs.  Size 38.  The classic tighty whitey.  Christmas.  Birthday.  Father’s Day.  A 9-Pack in a gift bag.  No Hallmark card, just a Post-It note on the outside that said “Thanks, man”.  There was never a hug exchanged, just a knowing nod.  It required minimal emotion and almost no planning.

Unfortunately, the ‘Hanes Solution’ would not work in my own case, my stated  preference being to go Commando unless the temperature in Fort Stockton dips below freezing, a rarity.  This decision eliminates the easy gift choice for my family, but has the added benefit of guaranteeing I almost always sit by myself at family summer barbecues, when shorts are  mandatory.

The problem, I’m afraid, is that we men are mistakenly thought of as ‘complicated’.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  We are a simple bunch.  We can easily be entertained by simply watching a construction site.  It’s so common that in Italy they actually have a name for it: umarell.  It goes along with the masculine urge to dig.  It’s primal, much like not being able to resist the urge to pick up a rock and throw it into a body of water.  The larger the rock, the bigger the splash, the greater the sense of satisfaction.  I’ve seen men actually have a huge smile break out on their faces when the perfect rock penetrates the right body of water.  Of course, this public display of emotion is quickly brought under control, unless alcohol has been involved.

Men, dads in particular, can walk through a room during the opening credits for a two hour movie, stop, stand in the same spot until the movie has finished, then go on to whatever they were doing.  To sit down on the couch for the entire film would be to give into a force that is to be avoided.  We stand up to watch TV, just like we do to pee. We will not be lulled into complacency while performing either of these acts, but remain vigilant and upright for each, should the need for quick action present itself.

If a guy walks under a low-hanging sign, he’ll jump up and try to hit the bottom.  I don’t care if he’s 16 or 82.  It’s in the male DNA.  We memorize the favorite lines from our three favorite movies and throw them out, regardless of the audience or event, as though we are dispersing wisdom that the world has not yet experienced.  And coffee tables made with resin.  Resin is an element that is vastly under appreciated by those who are not familiar with its properties.

Tell me if you are one of perhaps maybe a dozen people in the entire United States who have not shared this moment in a driveway or parking lot:  Using ropes or tie-downs, perhaps a come-along if you’re from the South, a father has lashed down a load in the back of a pick-up truck.  Following some inane sense of how it should be done communicated to his ears by God himself at a decibel level only he can hear, he will then pluck at the bindings and say confidently, “That’s not going anywhere.”  The sense of satisfaction at such an event is surpassed only by posing with a fish just caught in a photo that is more important to him than all of his kid’s school pictures.  

Gifts?  The best gift would be a campfire and a long stick.  We can amuse ourselves till the cows come home if we are able to constantly poke a fire with a stick.  Too impractical?  Can’t figure out how to wrap that?  Then just ask us what the secret ingredient is we put in our chili that makes it better than any other chili you’ve ever tasted.  We almost get emotional taking about our chili.

There you go.  You’ve been given a free primer on fathers for Father’s Day.  You still have time.  Order your dad a Captain My Captain mug if you have to get him something.  If you need to ask him if he’d be willing to donate a kidney, go all out and wrap up the mug in a 9-pack of Hanes tighty whiteys.  If you need him to cover the co-pay for the transplant, take him to a campsite where there’e a fire going and give him a long stick along with the mug and undies.  You’ll get everything you need.  Just don’t expect him to get emotional. 

Too much.