KAREN WIGHT -- No Place Like Home

An editor at the Daily Pilot is convinced that very few men read my

column. I’m not sure if that’s true, but to those of you who are secure

enough with your manhood to read No Place Like Home: Happy Father’s Day,

high fives and go Lakers.

Around here we celebrate Father’s Day with the traditional male wish

list -- no, I’m not talking about that -- I’m talking about food, sports

and meditative time on the couch. You know, a nap.

Every year the kids and I ask Ben what the preferred activities are on

his list, and he comes up with the same three things year after year.

Although one year, he said he wanted to sky dive. I told him if he

increased the amount of the life insurance, the sky was his oyster. He

hasn’t jumped out of an airplane yet.

Another year, he went on a Baja fishing trip, but that was a little

anticlimactic for the kids and for him too, because we weren’t around to

make a fuss over him.

But those are the exceptions, not the rule. The rule is three meals of

his favorite foods, control of the television and time to himself.

Today, this means eggs Benedict for breakfast; wishing that the Lakers

game were today and not tomorrow; and something red, rare and barbecued

for dinner. I suggested a swordfish salad for dinner tonight and was met

with a glare that would melt metal. I’ll be putting the steaks on the

grill in a few hours.

Just to keep me on the edge of my seat, I think he has plans to put

the ladder up and take the kids on the roof to jump into the pool. It’s

not skydiving, but this is as close as he’s going to get this year.

The nap part is always the most difficult thing to pull off. Between

eating, games on and off the television, and some manly physical

challenge, the nap is the toughest part of the wish list. Maybe it’s

because the house is never very quiet, maybe it’s because there are so

many things to do in one day of adoration or maybe it’s because naps are

much more satisfying when they’re spontaneous.

Then there’s always the whose-Father’s-Day-is-it-anyway issue. Do you

celebrate your own father, the father of your children, or your spouse’s

father -- separately, simultaneously, not at all?

There’s more than a little guilt in all of our families to extend all

the way to next Father’s Day if we let it. We’ve decided while the kids

are still under our wings, that our nuclear family gets first dibs on

Sunday. The rest of the gang can have early or delayed gratification.

That way they can actually take their naps on Sunday.

Then there is always the issue of gift-giving. Since Ben rarely wears

a tie, that old standard is not an option for our kids. And we’re fairly

maxed out on the outdoor grilling accouterments. Chore coupons from the

kids are always a great idea, except at fulfillment time. The pool is so

filled with inflatable toys that I can barely see the water (not quite

what I had in mind when we remodeled the backyard).

For this year’s gift, we bought some of those gold-and-purple car

flags for his truck. I’m not sure if it’s manly to drive around in a big

truck with purple flags waving in the wind, but, hey, it’s playoff

season. Real men wave purple flags, eat quiche and read No Place Like

Home.

* KAREN WIGHT is a Newport Beach resident. Her column runs Sundays.