Why I Can’t Even Bring Myself To Hate Father’s Day
If you’ve read this far you’ve probably done more to observe Father’s Day than you need to. Or you liked the photo of David Beckham who is, it has to be said, a smoking hot dad.
Here are some links to help you understand my disinterest in a holiday that’s specifically designed to celebrate me and other flabby, elite members of the breeder patriarchy.
First, there’s the false equivalence of Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. As comedian Jim Gaffigan says, “My wife is amazing, we have five kids and she does 90% of the parenting. So that only leaves me with 10% which is — [BEAT] — too much.”
Second, though historically Father’s Day is cited as the independent idea of a couple of different women (Jane Addams, Sonora Smart Dodd) and one man (Harry C. Meek), its institutionalization (i.e. the acceptance of it as a national “thing”) is mostly due to the decades-long perseverance of the New York Associated Men’s Wear Retailers. So that’s why the neckties.
Third, there’s an International Men’s Day already. So lets celebrate fathers, paternal bonds, and the influence of men in society then.
Fourth, if you’re still reading you should probably buy your dad something. It’s not too late to get him whisky.
Dan Friedman is the executive editor, resident curmudgeon and whisky correspondent for the Forward. Follow him on Twitter at @danfriedmanme