This Father’s Day I pondered what to get a man who routinely refers to such days, and for that matter, most holidays and celebrations, as a “load of sentimental capitalist shit”.
Actually, he doesn’t just feel this way about celebrations, it extends to death and funerals too. When I distant relative died recently and I told him I was sending flowers, he said my act was, “bullshit. They are gonna have a house full of flowers and they are all just gonna die. No one wants flowers”.
Being such a difficult person (in general) to buy for, it seemed the obvious route to take would be to make something, but the question was, what? It would have to be practical, and in no way sentimental, and if it could help with keeping the bird shit off that back porch, that would be a big bonus too.
I decided to observe my dad for possible clues as to what he might need and appreciate. And this is what I came up with (outside of intensive mental health treatment, which was way outside my budget):
A GPS
Given that no small amount of ‘quality family time’ has been lost due to my Dad’s hopeless sense of direction, a GPS could well be the perfect gift. Admittedly too late to be of an use in avoiding the ‘Blois disaster’, where we spent the first half a day trying to escape the confines of this trickster French city to the tense tune of ‘fuckeddy fuck fuck’ and the second half doing frantic circles trying to find accommodation as night descended and we realised we were going nowhere, fast (Chevy Chase eat yr heart out), a GPS could still well serve to be the saving of any future family holidays.
Although my own self imposed ‘handmade’ restriction means that my GPS is probably going to come in the form of a stapled collection of hand drawn road maps, coloured in by The Boy. And while this seems like a daunting task – hand drawing an entire street directory – I actually figure it will only need three pages; our house to the RSL club, our house to Bunnings, and our house to the Bottleo, which makes it a bit of a cinch.
A Hearing Aid
Ever since getting into some old fashioned fisty cuffs with a man twice his size in our old home town, Tough Town, my Dad has been deaf in one ear. This has been the cause of innumerable misunderstandings, that I can help but feel I could fix if only I fashioned a home made hearing device out of a tin can, some string, and a leather type harness fastening this contraption to the right side of his head.
This would be so handy in avoiding the kind of misunderstanding he and my mother had just the other day involving a ‘white plastic bag’. As my Dad was taking the rubbish out on his way to visit my brother and his girls my Mother came rushing out with another white plastic bag full of new goods she had brought for the girls. Thrusting them into my Dad’s hands she said, “give these to the girls for me”. My Dad, being both deaf in one ear and soft in the head, took this to mean, “throw these in the rubbish with all those other white plastic bags”.
Later, when my mother queried him about the gifts, my bewildered Dad explained that he had thrown the bag in the rubbish. My mother, taking into consideration that he was half deaf, made sure to raise her voices a few octaves when she shouted, “you have got to be fucking kidding me” as she raced out to rescue the goods while my Dad muttered useless defences under his breath like “who gives someone a ‘white plastic bag’ full of new goods when he is taking out the rubbish…”.
I just cant help but think what life would be like if only I could make him something to hel him listen….
A Plate of Green Vegetables
When my Dad got home from his only second ever trip overseas, where he went to the seat of the empire, he seemed awfully preoccupied with the lack of vegetables his holiday had yielded. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how America wasn’t a country crippled by scurvy. In the entire month he was there, he swears he ate only one vegetable, and it was “a fucking zucchini flower. Battered. And fried”.
For a long time afterwards he would walk around the house, shaking his head and muttering to The (vegetarian )Yang, “you’d be dead in 24 hours mate, dead in 24 hours”.
I think the man needs a plate of greens.
Binoculars
These can easily fit the homemade bill if I just stick two empty toilet paper rolls together and attach a washer as a focus ring. And they would be a great gift for my Dad giving him that added bit of insight, that only really comes from peering down a toilet roll, into what kind of home improvements the neighbours are doing, so that he can devise his own home made, budget, equivalent. Like how in a bid to keep up with the ‘cement rendered wall’ phase that is sweeping the neighbourhood, my Dad simply brought a bucket of paint, mixed a bit of cement through it, and painted the front walls of the house so they looked like cement. Cost saving, to say the least.
A Security Guard
Initially, I thought the cost of this option a little steep, but then I remembered that there is this immigrant kid from down the road that owes me a favour from that time I agreed not to call the National Security Hotline and report that he was carrying a Koran on the bus. He owes me. If I could just get him to come and stand watch on the back porch with Dad’s air rifle, I think I will have found the perfect gift.
My Dad is forever fretting about the Miner birds that descend on his beloved back porch and shit everywhere. He responds to this problem with the kind of zeal of an American Border Patrol Guard, reaching for his air rifle and firing off plastic projectiles if any threaten to come near. When he was due to go away on holidays recently the hole that he would have to leave in this line of defence was truly troubling him. He is a man that asks little or nothing of no one, and it was hard not to be affected by the trace of hopeless hope in his voice when he turned to The (pacifist, animal loving) Yang as he was leaving, held up his air rifle and said, “you’re not going to be wanting this for shootin’ those birds, are ya mate?” He knew there was no point waiting for an answer, and the disappointment was palpable.
I think a security guard would make him really happy.
In the end though, I settled on my mother’s suggestion and got the old bastard nothing.
I used to work as a Security Guard in England, you could give him me! Other people’s parents seem to find me delightful for some reason….
That’s because you *are* delightful JJ! And its a great offer to have you, but are you sure you would be up for being the front line of defense in a raving lunatic’s backyard?!
How about a nice set of Emperor’s New Clothes?
Um, would it look like he was wearing a dress? cuz he totally wouldn’t be up for that….
a beautiful, thoughtful piece Ruby. Surely having such a witty daughter is present enough?
Ah, thats a lovely thing to say Kirsty, I’ll be sure to suggest it to him this Christmas!
Have you read ‘my family and other animals’ by Gerard Durrell? He writes about his family too. There are less expletives and not any vegetarians, but its a romping, rollicking good read. Gerard’s family used to be my favourite literary family; not anymore. Your family – and specifically your dad – are now my favourites. I’d have bought your dad a t-shirt that says ‘i exist to amuse – and exterminate’.
A good tip, a compliment and a new T-shirt – its my lucky day! Durrell sounds great, I love when people turn family misfortune into entertainment, and feel pretty damn proud (in a backward kind of way) that I have out- dysfunctioned him my father ramblings! I think we can expand that T-shirt idea into a whole range, next up – “pot bellied and taking pot shots”….
i refuse to contribute any more clutter to my mother’s collection of ‘stuff’, so that means everything must be consumable. food. no booze, as she doesn’t drink (that’s for me when i visit her). flowers. and i take her out to play – theater, shopping, wheeling her around in her wheelchair, she takes great delight at poking people in her way with her cane… it’s the best gift ever.
for your father, however, it seems the security guard option would be quite festive! i’m sure the neighbors would love it!
I don’t know your father but I love him already. And given the fact of my emotional investment in his happiness, as well as my now extensive knowledge of the man’s inner workings I would suggests the GPS. It will do a world of good and it’s something he would never ask for or buy for himself. He won’t even ask for directions. (You know how he gets!)
I agree with Dad’s assessment of America’s nutritional Mal. The whole country would live on Kentucky Fried Baconnaise and pork rind sprinkled ice cream if they thought no one was looking.
Haha, I enjoyed hearing about America’s secretly desired diet! You know (and from the sounds of it, you do) my Dad is hardly the King of Culinary Cuisine, so its a pretty sad assessment when a ‘meat and three veg’ man is complaining about the menu!
But I have to say, that GPS is not gonna happen, *as if* I’m gonna spend my spare time drawing the man a map. Nup, its like I said, I got him nothing, and guess what? It was the perfect price!
Pork rind on ice cream? Now why didn’t I think of that?
As something to put on the nutritional menu at the Gimcrack?
No as something to eat in bed every night before I go to sleep 😉
Hahaha! This was hilarious, RTS! I was a little worried at first, because it sounded like your Dad could be my soul mate (whenever I get flowers I can’t help but think they’re going to die anyway and why the hell couldn’t he have just given me the cash?). And that would be, well, awkward.
But thankfully, when I got to the part where he takes out the trash, I realized that we couldn’t be more different.
I say go with the GPS system. Only because if he doesn’t want it, I do. (I’m doing a post on directional sculptures and I think it would fit perfectly!)
A little worried?! I’d say a ‘whole lot fucking worried’, but then, I do know him better than you, so I guess I cant expect you to be as suitably alarmed at the prospect of calling my nutcase father yr soul mate! Thankfully, you saw the error of yr ways.
Like I said to Scott, drawing that man a map is not gonna happen – but making a contribution to yr ‘directional sculptures’ post – consider it done! (but I should warn you, according to my art school teacher, I have the artistic skill of a four year old with one arm)
What a thoughtful daughter you are. I tired to be a little more thoughtful this year and brought a magazine to go with the usual lottery pack. Of course he didn;t appreciate the mag, only commented that it would have cost too much and we should have saved the money. I’ll remember your mum’s advice from now on.
Love your dad and the many laughs he gives us. Thanks for sharing them RTS.
Hope those birds get the message and piss off.
Haha, I bet we could do a killer post together about the crap both our Dads do and say – I love that yrs accepted his gift so graciously by telling you to, what, save five bucks?!! Maybe next time you will have to get him a *special* man’s mag, and see if that makes him happy!
I’m glad you liked the stories anyway – I love seeing you here!
Get him a pie, shove it in his face, Yell “Surprise! The police are on their way here” and scatter like the winds.
Well, this certainly fits the ‘homemade’ bill, and has the added bonus of getting the police to come and take him off my hands!
I love the security guard idea. And the pie idea from Oscar.
Maybe I could combine them, by getting my Dad to ‘pie’ the security guard, then having the security guard shoot him in retaliation, which would then serve as his lesson on what its like for those poor birds…
Great post! your dad sounds like a real character. 🙂
Thanks Lisa. He is a bit of a character, but sometimes, I must admit, I wish I could treat him like a make believe one that lived in a Kingdom Far Far Away…ha, I’m kidding. Kinda…