Father's Day just doesn't have the pomp and circumstance of Mother's Day. Mother's Day gets more media coverage than a lunar landing although I don't think we go to the moon anymore, but I could be wrong. One giant step for Mom and one teenie tiny one for Dad. Mother's Day is a cash cow for Hallmark and 1 -800- flowers. Dads just don't rake in the $$$ . I know it's a dark day of guilt if I don't arrive at Mom's door with something in a Neiman's , Tiffany's, or Bloomie's bag - or teeter in with a flowering plant the size of a building. "Here Mom, Happy Mother's Day," I groaned as I fell over. "Thank you dear," she said and left me on the floor to go open my sister's present in Saks packaging.
It's hard to shop for Dad. He doesn't like much. For 25 straight years I bought him a tie for Father's Day. Stripes, solids, patterned or knit, he returned every one. I was relentless and undeterred and continued my search for one he'd keep. Never happened. I finally gave up and switched to books. That didn't work either, as we didn't have the same taste in reading. He'd open the package, grunt and put it down. Mom at least gushed upon opening. I almost bought him a bottle of his favorite wine, Mogan David, but my regular wine salesman stared at me in disbelief and disappointment; I broke out in a rash and had to leave the store.
What did Dad really like? This question plagued me. Then like a dream come true I remembered. He liked to eat cake. And candy when there's no cake. I'd come bearing cakes from bakeries as far west as Iowa. "Too dry," he'd discern and push the plate away after one bite. Curses! I switched to exotic chocolate which cost more than my new Kate Spade shoes. "Bitter, not sweet enough," he said as he wrapped it back in the foil. I ate the tasty chocolate and sadly returned the shoes.
This Father's Day I came bearing Twinkies and a Snickers bar wearing a new pair of shoes.