Meltzer is the rabbi of Ohr Shalom Synagogue in Bankers Hill and a lecturer in the Department for the Study of Religion at SDSU. He lives in University City.
I love Father’s Day. One of my absolute favorite days of the year. Huge fan. However, every year I am frustrated that I can’t find the right greeting cards. I go up and down the aisles, in multiple stores, and I have never found the cards I want.
I’ve scanned hundreds of cards, year after year, and I have never found the “To my wife on Father’s Day,” nor “To my children on Father’s Day.” Saved a lot of money, but I’ve had to make my own cards.
I am going to let you in on a secret. I am sure I am not the only one who feels this way, though I have never conducted a survey.
Married for over 23 1/2 years (and counting), the father of four, and one thing I know for sure — Father’s Day is not at all about me.
The proof that the day is not about me? Before Jennifer and I married and I became a father, it wasn’t about me at all. And now that I am a father and it is Father’s Day, the honor of the day belongs to those who have added the title “Dad” as a line on my curriculum vitae. Rather than spending this Sunday looking in the mirror, I spend it staring in awe at our four children and the woman who chose to spend her life with me, and make me a dad. It is on their that I am a father, and to them goes all the honor, and all my love and gratitude, on this special day.
And to be completely transparent, I love being a dad. A top three on my bucket list for life accomplishments. Maybe No. 1. But it’s pretty clear, I didn’t do it alone. I didn’t make myself a dad. They did it to me. And I am overcome with gratitude every single day. My life is like a perpetual day in the Magic Kingdom, sipping root beer floats and watching fireworks. Even the hard days.
And I’ve been doing this for a while. I have been a dad for 71 years. No, our eldest wasn’t born in the 1950s. I wasn’t born yet in the 1950s. Seventy-one is the sum of the ages of our four children. I can talk about being a dad to the collective — our four children — but the reality is I am dad uniquely to each of them: the father of Shayna, the father of Nadiv, the father of Maital and the father of Yael. Dad to each of them, totaling 71 years of fatherhood so far. I think it also means that I am aging four times faster than the average Joe.
Come to think of it, Jennifer has been a mom for the same 71 years, which means that together we have been parents for 142 years. Not bad for our first 23 years of marriage.
Not being able to find appropriate greeting cards is not my only frustration on the third Sunday in June. Gift giving is confusing. I used to give Father’s Day gifts to Jennifer and the kids, but I discovered that instead of making them happy, it kinda upset them. “Dad, we are supposed to give you gifts!” Seems they are as confused as the greeting card people. I stopped giving them Father’s Day gifts. Why would I want to upset them on their special day?
Same thing with making a special brunch and a special dinner. For 71 years of fatherhood, I have relished every opportunity to cook for this very special brood. Watching my children enjoy a meal that I have prepared fills me with more joy than eating itself. Craziest thing, it’s the only day on which I have to fight them for the honor of cooking. They team up against me on the question of who gets to make dinner, and I don’t always win. I never fight them over who gets to clean up.
So to the five of you who have made me a dad, for all that you have done and continue to do to make every day of my life Father’s Day:
I insincerely apologize when you get frustrated at me for buying you gifts when you think it is my day.
I will keep fighting you for the right to do the cooking on this special day.
I will remain immeasurably in love with each of you, and eternally grateful to the universe that has seen fit to make me your husband and your father respectively.
I hope you have a wonderful Father’s Day.
