PETER BUFFA -- Comments & Curiosities

“Father.” Just one word, but so many meanings. Let us count them all.

“Father” means a love to warm us and a strength to protect us. It means a

quiet love that asks nothing in return. “Father” means -- it means this

is making me nauseous. Yak. Was that sappy enough? OK, let’s get busy.

Whose idea was this anyway?

Historically, that’s easy. Nearly a century of bad ties and the wrong

cologne can be attributed to a woman named Sonora Smart Dodd of Spokane,

Wash. On a sunny Mother’s Day morn in 1909, Smarty was at church,

listening to a sermon about mothers and the importance thereof.

The Mother’s Day thing was only a few years old, having been started

by a Philadelphia woman named Anna M. Jarvis in 1907, in honor of her

mother, Anna Reese Jarvis -- why did these people have so many names? --

who crossed over in May of 1905.

Grab your bags, Edith, it’s back to Spokane. As Sonora the Smart

listened to that fateful Mother’s Day sermon, she became exceedingly

bummed -- and not just because her mother had passed away when she was a

little girl. Smarty had been raised by her father, Henry Jackson Smart

(again with the names) whom she worshiped.

It bothered her that there was a Day of the Mom, but not a Day of the

Dad. Ergo (Latin for “therefore”), since Hank’s birthday was in June,

Smarty organized a community “Father’s Celebration” on June 19, 1910.

People liked it. They liked it a lot. It grew like Topsy. In 1924,

Calvin Coolidge -- a profoundly humorless person -- proclaimed the third

Sunday in June “Father’s Day.” By the way, in those days, wearing roses

was a big deal for both men and women on Father’s Day. Red for living

dads and white for dads who were, well, not living.

So much for history. On to reality.

Let’s be honest. Mothers are what make the world go ‘round and

Mother’s Day is a major league big deal, as well it should be. Father’s

Day is very nice, but it’s an also-ran, a runner-up, a familial

footnote, the Boston Red Sox of “days.”

Father’s Day exists for one reason and one reason only -- the very

same reason that Sonora Smart Dodd, silly name and all, started the whole

thing -- sheer, unmitigated guilt.

On the Day of the Mom, everybody goes ga-ga with flowers and brunches

and gifts, yadda, yadda, yadda. A few days later, they slap their

foreheads and say “Uh oh. What about the old man? Oh yeah, there’s that

thing in June.”

Fine. We can deal with that. Not a problem. Real men don’t whine, even

when something is totally unfair and hurts our feelings, especially after

everything we’ve done and nobody even says thank you the other 364 days

of the year.

Don’t give it a second thought, really.

As a dues-paying member of the Father’s Union for more than 30 years,

I am painfully aware of our limitations. Fathers are like fire

extinguishers. Most of the time, you barely know they’re around. But when

you need one, there is no substitute.

Fathers are excellent for high things. If you need a high thing, they

are very handy. Mothers are OK for silverware and ice, but if you need

that bowl on the top shelf with the creamer, the love-bird salt and

pepper set and the gravy boat all jammed inside it, a father is what you

need.

Bug control is very important -- “Omigod, what is that? Get it!!” --

and, of course, lectures. I gave my share of the obligatory father

lectures over the years. But I could tell no one took them seriously.

Least of all our kids.

I did find some interesting, though totally meaningless, information

about this very special third Sunday in June. Someone with way, way, too

much time on their hands did a study of who calls, or doesn’t call, the

fathers of America on their big day. Men and women are each as likely to

call the old man as the other. The average Father’s Day caller is 33

(that’s depressing), married and a high school graduate.

How on Earth do they know this stuff? Does someone break in on

Father’s Day calls and say, “Excuse me, caller. How old are you?

Thirty-eight? Great, thanks, sorry to interrupt. Go ahead please.”

Men are more likely to take the paternal unit out to celebrate than

women, who are more likely to visit or give him a gift. Ah, the Father’s

Day gift. Never mind. About a third of the calls are made to people other

than the caller’s father -- brothers, uncles, grandfathers, etc. -- and

women are more like to make quasi-father calls than men.

The most likely almost-father figures are, in descending order of

frequency, fathers-in-law, brothers, grandfathers and male friends who

have been father figures in one way or another. As for calling pop the

rest of the year, women are almost three times as likely to make non-Dad

Day calls.

And finally, an encouraging note for all the psychotherapists out

there -- about 17% of Americans never call their father. That’s never as

in “not ever.” Oops. Let’s move on, shall we?

Personally, what I like best about “dad” is that it’s a palindrome.

You know -- racecar, civic, kayak, level, madam. Words or phrases that

spell exactly the same thing in either direction. Wait, this one is

great. Desserts can cause stress, but read “stressed desserts” backward.

How cool is that?

Where were we? Oh yeah, dad. So show a little respect, go easy on the

ties and if you’re in that 17%, call the old poop. Life is too short. I

gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays.

He may be reached via e-mail at PtrB4@aol.com.